Saturday night was a strange television evening. On the last full day of Olympics, the CBC pre-empted prime time Olympic coverage for a rock concert.
I was uncertain I was going to watch the final Man Machine Poem Tragically Hip concert, broadcast live from the band’s hometown of Kingston. Being a huge Hip fan through the entire 1990s, I was uncertain how the effects of terminal brain cancer would affect frontman Gord Downie and to be honest, I was not certain I could endure the emotional toil the tragic medical diagnosis has had on all Hip fans.
I have seen the Tragically Hip live at least five times. I have seen them in hockey arenas and outdoor festivals and at the National Arts Centre. The shows are always spectacular. I wore out my 1992 cassette Fully Completely and had to upgrade to the CD.
The band is quintessentially Canadian. They never quite broke through to the USA and in many ways that now seems appropriate, they are ours.
The music combines late ’80s alternative style with deep guitar riffs. But it is Gord Downie’s lyrics, enigmatic personality and hypnotic stage presence that made the Hip what it was.
Many of Downie’s lyrics contain obscure references; hidden meanings will sometimes be found or debated. Often it’s best just to enjoy them, as only the author knows the true message.
Many of the songs told Canadian stories. I was unaware that there is a town in northern Ontario called Bobcaygeon. Similarly, I did not know the story of Toronto Maple Leaf defenceman’s Bill Barilko’s ill-fated fishing trip. Others are more familiar: Wheat Kings, the story of the wrongful conviction of David Milgaard, or the line in Fireworks “If there’s a goal that everyone remembers, it was back in old ’72.” There’s nothing more Canadian than the disclosure of the Bill Barilko legend than “I stole this from a hockey card.”
Gord Downie is Canada’s unofficial poet laureate.
But on this Saturday night in August, it was the more subtle references that were the most poignant. Gord Downie and I are the same age, 52. His struggle forces he, his family, his bandmates and all of us to process grief and to contemplate our own mortality.
“Courage,” “Do you think I am scared? That’s what I do; I’m not prepared, but here’s what I propose to do,” “It’s better for me if you don’t understand,” “No dress rehearsal: this is our life” and “Wheat kings and pretty things: let’s see what the morning brings.” All lines with much more meaning, as its author battles a cruel and fatal opponent.
I doubt if few other artists could bring this, or any other nation, to a virtual halt. Thousands of adoring fans filled public spaces to watch the concert on large jumbotrons – 30,000 in Kingston alone. Social media displayed packed bars, which would normally show sports on a Saturday night, catering to Hip fans. Live streaming allowed Canadians to watch the concert wherever they might be situated. And there were references to hall and backyard viewing parties, large and small, from coast to coast to coast.
And social media? The Twitter-verse took a rare night off from its usual nonsensical vitriol and trashing each others’ favourite sports team or political persuasion to come together to salute the man, the band and its 30 years of Canadian storytelling. Fans shared stories of how a certain song got them through a bad breakup or where they were the first time they heard a certain Tragically Hip classic.
And finally, I want to give a shout out to the public broadcaster. The CBC aired the nearly three-hour spectacle commercial free, even though it exceeded its 2.5 hour time slot. No announcers or analysts, no roving mikes interviewing fans or the band backstage, no talking heads of any kind. Just the show from start to finish for us to enjoy, the occasional f-bomb included.
The CBC endures criticism from time to time. To celebrate such a Canadian icon, however, taxpayers got their money worth.
The still unfinished story of Gord Downie and the Tragically Hip is undoubtedly both tragic and hip. Saturday night’s celebration viewing and social media commentary confirms that the band has meant so much to so many Canadians.
The low key classic Scared concludes with the surreal line: “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” No Gord, the pleasure has been all ours.
Brent Rathgeber, QC is a St. Albert lawyer and former MP.
