PILGRIMAGE TO KINGSTON
Saxberg attends Hip show
When Gord Downie let loose that howl of anguish during Grace, Too, the reality of his situation hit me like a brick.
In his primal outpouring, I heard rage, sadness and a shriek of injustice, the voice of a guy who knows he’s not going to be around forever, and isn’t ready to go. Not that anyone is ever ready.
“Have a nice life,” Downie said near the end of Saturday’s concert, his words carrying a grim air of finality.
I’m not ready for him to go, either.
The Hip has long been one of my favourite bands, and I’m in awe of Downie’s talent as a lyricist and inimitable performer. I’ve interviewed him and the other band members numerous times over the years, and I’ve seen more than 30 shows, including several out-of-town dates that called for a road trip.
I love the music, and the sometimes precarious balance between the band’s guitar-driven rock and Downie’s poetically charged lyrics, often depicting places and people in Canada. I consider Day for Night their career masterpiece.
For me, the weekend jaunt to Kingston was a pilgrimage of sorts, a chance to pay tribute to an artist whose work I’ve been following for decades. The band’s hometown was the final stop on the band’s Man Machine Poem tour, and considering Downie’s diagnosis, possibly their last concert ever. Plus, knowing the Hip fans of the old days, it was bound to be a terrific party.
Sure enough, a celebratory spirit pervaded the city as thousands flocked downtown to watch the concert on a big screen in the market. Crowd estimates ranged from 25,000 to 50,000. Similar viewing parties took place across the country.
In Kingston, downtown streets were closed to traffic. Buses were free for the day. Hotels and restaurants were jammed. Families picnicked in the park, and long lines formed anywhere a Hip T-shirt was being sold. A local brewery even untapped a tasty new Hip-inspired beer for the occasion.
About 7,000 of the people in town actually got into the show at the K-Rock Centre on a street called Tragically Hip Way. I was one of the lucky ones.
In person, it was an amazing concert, full of energy and love. The prime minister was in the house. A huge Canadian flag made the rounds of the stadium, passed over people’s heads. While waiting for the music to start, the crowd sang O Canada and chanted Hip-Hip-Hip or GordGord-Gord.
It was an emotional rollercoaster, too, the blissful highs clouded by an underlying sadness. The quintet played all the songs I was hoping for, and a couple I’d almost forgotten.
The entire band rocked; guitarists Rob Baker and Paul Langlois traded licks that bobbed and weaved while drummer Johnny Fay and bassist Gord Sinclair locked into a pocket and refused to budge. The acoustic songs were exquisite.
Like everyone, I couldn’t take my eyes off Gord, the eccentric showman, in his feathered top hat and glam leather suits. Postchemo and radiation treatment, his performance on this tour has been less wildly physical than in the past, but he conveyed the same level of intensity through his facial expressions and hand gestures. When tears fell, he made no effort to hide them.
Adding to the momentous sense of occasion on Saturday was the call-to-action Downie levelled at Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, urging him to take action on indigenous issues.
“He cares about the people way up North, that we were trained our entire lives to ignore, trained our entire lives to hear not a word of what’s going on up there,” Downie said between songs. “And what’s going on up there ain’t good. It’s maybe worse than it’s ever been ... (but) we’re going to get it fixed and we got the guy to do it, to start, to help.’’
After three encores, the concert no one wanted to end finally concluded with a resounding display of gratitude between Downie, the band members and those of us in the crowd.
Back at a motel on the far end of town, there was another round of Hip tunes, performed on acoustic guitar by Rory from Sudbury as trucks barrelled by on the 401. But the raw edge of Downie’s scream still rang in my ears.
It was a cry for help, a call to action and a rant all rolled into one heart-wrenching sound. The message was clear: Cancer sucks. Let’s find a cure.
The concert no one wanted to end finally concluded with a resounding display of gratitude between Downie, the band members and those of us in the crowd.