A Poet After Dark
Everlasting words of wisdom from Canada's hero, Gord Downie
I’ve been thinking a lot about the power of telling stories through songs (which I wrote about, in praise of Colin Meloy, last time). Probably the songwriter I’ve admired the longest is Gord Downie, the late poet and singer of The Tragically Hip. Downie was a more abstract storyteller than Meloy is, but both of their writings infuse history with poetry, yielding powerful songs. One important distinction was Downie’s quintessentially Canadian voice. For four decades, he was our poet rock ‘n roll troubadour historian laureate.
Last month, “The Hip” – as they’re known by millions of fans, most of them Canadian – released a four-part documentary series on Amazon Prime, No Dress Rehearsal. The title is taken from “Ahead by a Century”, which opens with an enigmatic stanza that’s emblematic of Downie’s poetry – a beautiful fusing of the everyday with the profound:
First thing, we'd climb a tree
And maybe then we'd talk
Or sit silently
And listen to our thoughts
With illusions of someday
Cast in a golden light
No dress rehearsal
This is our life
No Dress Rehearsal is an incredible music documentary, but I am biased, as I’ve been a fan of the band for thirty years. I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried heavily while watching the final episode. Five years ago, I shed many tears listening to Canadian broadcaster George Stroumboulopoulos narrate The Never-Ending Present: The Story of Gord Downie and the Tragically Hip by Michael Barclay.
To cut a long, heroic and heart-breaking story short, The Tragically Hip are the most beloved band in Canadian history and, after announcing in 2016 that Downie had incurable brain cancer, they embarked on a cross-country farewell tour. I was working in Edinburgh that summer, and I watched clips and read setlists as the tour travelled east from BC to Ontario. I desperately wanted to be in Canada to see them say goodbye. The band’s final show, in their hometown of Kingston, was broadcast live on the CBC and watched by 11.7 million Canadians. That’s one-third of the entire population. That’s how important The Hip were to Canada.
My first memory of the music was seeing the video for “Courage” from 1992’s Fully Completely. They were a huge band in Canada by then, unavoidable on rock radio and music television. Even though I was only nine years old, and frankly more interested in Nirvana and Pearl Jam, I recall being mesmerised by Downie.
A more significant song emerged from Fully Completely: “Wheat Kings”, a Canadian history lesson which became a compulsory singalong at any occasion where an acoustic guitar was present. In the 90s and early 2000s, everyone knew the lyrics to “Wheat Kings”, therefore an entire nation learned the story of David Milgaard’s wrongful imprisonment and exoneration. (The title of this post is a nod to the brilliant fan website, A Museum After Dark, whose title paraphrases a lyric in “Wheat Kings”. I highly recommend reading the entry about the song, then listening to it below.)
It was the band’s subsequent two albums, Day For Night (1994) and Trouble at the Henhouse (1996), that firmly grabbed a hold of me. The former contained the epic tale “Nautical Disaster” and the latter had the aforementioned hit, “Ahead by a Century”. A deep cut from Trouble at the Henhouse, “Flamenco”, holds great emotional significance for me – a story for another time.
My Hip fandom was cemented on November 23, 1996, at Cobo Arena in Detroit, when I saw them live for the first time. It was an incredible show, clear in my mind 28 years later. The band considered it their peak performance from that tour and released it the following year as Live Between Us. I feel incredibly fortunate to have my first live experience of one of my favourite bands cemented in history as an official release. I remember playing the CD in my parents’ minivan on a family road trip. I sang along to every lyric, including Downie’s many ad-libs, and I recited every line of between-song banter. I’ve included “Nautical Disaster” from Live Between Us on this playlist because this version captured how unconventional and unpredictable a live performer he was, weaving his own words and melodies with interpolations of songs by Jane Siberry and The Rheostatics.
Gord Downie was renowned for improvising on stage, often going on lyrical tangents while his bandmates held down a groove. A favourite example amongst diehard fans is the “killer whale tank” story within “New Orleans is Sinking”, performed on May 3, 1991 at The Roxy in LA. Thankfully, this rumoured rendition was officially released in 2022 for all to hear.
The high point of my Hip admiration occurred in November 2006. I was working at a music booking agency, my first full-time job after university, and The Hip were represented by them. To support the release of their album World Container, they played five nights at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver. This was remarkable because the band could easily sell out a 20,000-capacity arena, and the Commodore held 1,000. I attended two of the five shows.
After the first show, I hung around the venue for the afterparty. I stood by the stage door and waited as the band members came out and headed to the bar. Eventually, I was the only person left standing. Gord Downie emerged last. He casually approached me and shook my hand. We chatted amiably about the show, and how I worked for the agency. Fans and friends approached him and he was gracious, mellow, soft-spoken. I stayed by his side for an hour. At one point he introduced me as “my friend Josh.” What a thrill.
For the record, I’ve worked with a fair number of famous people in my career, and I’ve never once asked for a photo. It seems imposing and unprofessional. Plus, I don’t want to separate myself from them – we’re just two people. The interaction with my new friend Gord that night was natural and sweet, it wasn’t fanboy-meets-rockstar. So I didn’t feel awkward asking a friend to take a photo of us. I’m so glad I did.
This photo sits on a shelf in my living room, above my musical equipment and records, alongside a wood engraving of the most famous lines Gord Downie ever wrote:
No dress rehearsal
This is our life
Those seven words, and thousands more like those, are his everlasting legacy, cherished by millions of listeners. This Thursday will mark seven years since his passing. His poetic potency persists because of the power of music to tell stories, to impart truths, to enrich lives. We’re all richer for having heard The Hip’s music.
Thank you for your words and wisdom, Mr. Downie.
Sincerely, your one time friend,
Josh
Great post!