Music is amazing, because you get to take it into your office or your living room or wherever you get to know it, and later you bring all those personal connections into a room with thousands and thousands of people.
Ah come on, these streams of light are not so subtle. All along the ditch, signs of life in sinking puddles!
Despite everything that is going on our climate and injustice in our country, we can't forget to come together celebrate the number of times the Tragically Hip helped bring us together and have our hearts moved. That is us honouring the life force, whatever that is. Celebrating is a duty.
No offence to Hugh MacLennan, but you don't even have to know or understand any deep philosophy that's being espoused, you can just have the feeling of those words together, and that you know them and can sing along with that melody with your fist up in the air. It's a wild vehicle for sentiment, because it's so powerful on the musical front.
Because I'm a musician aspiring to write good stuff and put on good shows, I'm hyperaware of what they're doing and what they're putting out. But listening now in a less critical way, I'm appreciating and admiring it even more.
As with any music that one feels quite close to, I'm very critical, too. I care a lot. I pay a lot of attention.
Gord [Downie] does so much Waterkeeper stuff. They were involved in [protesting clearcuts at] Clayoquot Sound [in the early '90s]. It's hard sometimes to use the capital you have as a beloved rock band and put it to various causes, especially when they're a bit more controversial, like energy issues.
I remember getting up and singing with them at Mile One arena in St. John's. It was such an honour that they asked me, but all I could think of was, "But I'm such a fan!" Later I sang on one of their records, that was awesome.
[Gord] Downie has become more animated than the early days, but he's still the same charismatic performer. And as a whole, that band is really the result of each individual member. If one member was not a part of it, it wouldn't be the Hip. They're all crucial to the whole thing.
I was just thinking of Rush. I went to see Rush a few years ago, because my record label guy in the States really wanted to go. We had crazy good seats. It was fascinating watching the crowd - mostly men - who were so moved by these really esoteric lyrics. I don't know Neil Peart's lyrics super well, but they're not that straightforward to me.
My friend worked at a record store in Burlington and I really liked R.E.M. and a lot of music, but I didn't go to see much. I was 16, so I wasn't in bars unless I knew the band and could get in.
My drummer right now, who was also the first drummer in Weeping Tile, Jon McCann, told me that [Hip drummer] Johnny Fay took drum lessons from [McCann's] dad, who taught a lot of the drummers in Kingston. He said that when he was in Grade 9, the Hip were the model; the goal was to get an agent and gig as much as possible.
Maybe I'm not giving people in the audience enough credit for actually thinking about what they're singing, but it's awesome when a rock'n'roll groove and melody can transport something from Barometer Rising or whatever [ed: it's from 1958's The Watch That Ends the Night] into [Toronto's] Molson Ampitheatre and have people just owning it.
