When the Hip book hits the fans

 

I meant to post this eons ago. I have a new book out in three months, about a generation of musicians that came after the Tragically Hip. Today would have been Gord Downie's 58th birthday, so it's as good a time as any to finally get around to this. 

 

Since the release of The Never-Ending Present in April 2018, I’ve been interviewed by many of the country’s best journalists, both on stage and off. But the deepest dives I got into were on the Hipbase forum, where the Tragically Hip’s geekiest fans grilled me with some insightful questions.

 

I’d been lurking on the site while researching the book; I wanted to read honest appraisals of my work and assess what fans thought about the book both before and after it was published. So in August 2018, four months after its release and after I’d done a round of Ontario touring, I popped up and told them to ask me anything.

 

Here is a slightly edited version of our exchanges. The full conversation can be found here. (Registration required to read.) Apologies for the use of abbreviations for album and book titles.

 

 

Sean Bonner asked: "Did any of your research involve listening to any of the available audio/video bootlegs?"

I only listened to bootlegs of the earliest years, because that's what I was most curious about—that was all new to me, hearing them with [saxophonist] Davis Manning, hearing what covers they were doing and how they did them. It was extremely enlightening: they sound like a COMPLETELY different band than we hear on the EP. It's like Steve Jordan says in the book: when you went to see the Hip, you DANCED. I don't think of the Hip as we know them as a dance band, but they were absolutely an R&B band in their infancy—and a great one, not unlike Van Morrison's Them. (I always liked Them's big hits, but didn't dive deep into their whole discography until a few years back.)

I was also grateful to hear the Chris Wardman demos for Up to Here; hearing that early version of "Three Pistols" and realizing that, yes, I can see why it was cut from UTH and refined before making it on to Road Apples. And realizing that Don Smith likely did whip those songs into shape; he was more than just a great recording engineer.

I've never been a big bootleg guy into the nuances of night-to-night performances, so I don’t really listen to anything from the taper crowd—for the Hip or for anyone else. I'm a big Rheos fans and love how different their shows are night to night, but I prefer to experience that live and be surprised, not to revisit it later. The never-ending present, and all that.

Dire Wolf asked: "Just curious, was there a particular reason given for why they chose not to participate? Or did they just send you a message saying ‘nope,’ and that was it?"

Here's the entire text of my email from manager Bernie Breen in April 2017, when I told them I'd signed a book contract:

"Hi Michael, We have our own plans for a book and we will not be able to assist nor endorse your project. Best, B."

I decided to write the book anyway. I really wanted this book to exist, whether I wrote it or someone else did.

I certainly didn't expect the band to be gung-ho; it was still an emotionally sensitive time, to say the least, and I get that. I always knew it was likely they would not participate.

As a fan who had never enjoyed ANY official documentation out of the Hip camp until Long Time Running (the FC box set was good, but flawed and the text was poorly edited; John Kendle's liner notes in Hipeponymous are great, though far too brief), I didn't actually trust them to put out a good book.

I decided to do the work: do the research, do the interviews, and then come back to them and let them know I was serious and that this was an important book, and see if they would reconsider and be of any assistance, however small. (There were some key non-Hip interviews I wanted, but could not get.) I met with Bernie and Patrick Sambrook in September 2017 and detailed exactly what the book would look like, because it was never my intention to be sneaky about this, and I know that this is a band with a tightly controlled narrative who does not like to be surprised. Bernie and Patrick were very pleasant and cordial, but restated that the band has decided not to participate, and so they as the managers have to respect that decision. I did as well. I did not approach any members of the Downie family or anyone on the Hip payroll. I knew this would be their story told through the eyes of others: friends, peers, producers, managers, opening acts—eyewitnesses, as well as a few other observers for extra colour.

As you know, Rob has mused about writing his memoirs. That may or may not happen. He's also clearly stated that he's not interested in writing a chronological history of the band, or talking about their influences or their influence on others. Those are all things that interest me. If and when he writes a book—or if someone in the Downie family, or Billy Ray writes a book—it will be very different than mine, and complementary. I wrote the macro book. Someone in the camp will write the micro book. Both are essential parts of the narrative. Personally, I'd love to see a book by Billy Ray with dozens of photos from Richard Beland and David Bastedo. I would be first in line to buy that.

There are more stories here, of course. I'll tell you those in person—maybe—if I see you at a book event somewhere.


Dire Wolf also asked: "When did you first begin the project? Was it just after Gord's diagnosis?"

I started doing those Maclean's articles in July 2016, once the tour was under way. I didn't know what I was going to write for the mag: a history of the band? a contextual piece? It ended up being more of the latter. Before I even started writing it, I posted the Q&As I had been doing: Steve Berlin, Sarah Harmer, Peter Garrett, John K. Samson, etc. People seemed to love those. The Maclean's cover story was very well received. People told me I should write a book. For personal reasons, I didn't really think about it until six months later. In April 2017 I started researching. In August 2017 I started writing. I handed in my first draft on Oct. 31, 2017: so that’s seven months from inception to completion of the first draft. Spent a couple of months making it better. Signed off on everything on Feb. 1, 2018. Book came out one year to the day that I signed the contract and started researching (not counting the Maclean's stuff).

Escape @Hand asked: "Just curious as to the most interesting story/issue/random information that you came across while researching the book? Anything surprise you about the band?"

As I said above, hearing those early bootlegs was amazing and revelatory.

 

The Coke Machine Glow chapter was a favourite of mine. I've always loved that record so much, and I loved hearing the recording details from all the key players (Josh Finlayson was the only one who declined to speak—and did so very graciously, I might add).

I didn't know that much about the 2000s; I always listened to the new records, but didn't pay a lot of attention or follow the band during that time. I only saw them once b/w 2001-15, and that was in 2009. A lot of that information was new to me: including the bit that one fan posted (not here, I think it was Hipfans.com) about Downie admitting that the songs on World Container were going to be a solo record he was to make with Bob Rock, until Baker decided the Hip should do them instead.

I also did an off-the-record interview with someone who worked closely with the band during that decade. I said, "Here's my theory, just as a listener: Downie puts out two solo records in 2001 and '03, and that's also when they switch management. The band seems somewhat adrift and unsure in their musical direction then; for me, personally, those are my two least favourite Hip records. IVL is a softer record that tries to rock but doesn't really, and then the pendulum swings back to rock on IBE, and then it sounds like they're trying too hard [I realize there are thousands of IVL and IBE fans who will fight me.] It sounds like there's a real musical split in the band between different camps on those two records. Then there are two Bob Rock records, which to me seem very Downie-driven: new emphasis on melody and singing, more musically diverse, more pop than even the Berlin period. It doesn't seem like a coincidence that he doesn't put out any solo records during this period. Then almost everybody puts out solo records, and they come back together as a band on Plan A. Am I correct about any of that?"

"That's pretty much it, yeah," said the source, who was in a position to know.

I found that period to be perhaps the most fascinating: once you already are a successful band, how do you maintain that? How do you keep yourself interested? How do you keep your band together? How do you get people excited about your 12th album? Being in my mid-40s, these questions resonated more than if I had written this book as a younger person.

 

 

Four Pistols asks: "It seemed like the band was starting to break in the States with Trouble at the Henhouse. I remember MTV playing ‘Ahead by a Century.’ What could have the band or its management done to break through completely at that time?"

I don't know that they could have done anything better. So much of breaking the States is luck and timing. What the Hip needed was a national radio hit beyond just a few regional ones, or some crazy gimmicky video that made people pay attention. Or, as is argued in the book, they could have moved there for a year and played the U.S. exclusively. But they didn't want to do that. 1996 was also when three of them had their first kids; there were babies at home. The Hip always wanted to play their own game—and because of their Cdn success, they had the luxury of doing that.

Four Pistols asks: "Day for Night has always struck me as their darkest album, in subject matter if not always in sound. Which would you deem their darkest work?"

All their records are pretty dark, lyrically. Downie is not really a sunshine-y guy. That's why I like him.
Musically, yes, of course, DFN and TATH are dark and sludgy.

Four Pistols asks: "Was there ever any thought to a longer final tour? Did it ever include any U.S. dates? Did it not include the U.S. for insurance reasons?"

I've only heard rumours that yes, if things went well, they didn't necessarily consider Kingston the final show. I do know that the message from management to all media outlets was not to refer to it as the final show (which of course many did anyway).
When I was in Buffalo in April, someone told me the Hip had a hold on a venue there for a date in the fall of 2016—after Kingston.

Kieffer asks: "Were there any stories you really wanted to include but couldn't because of a lack of sources or able to verify?"

Yes. (Ahem.)

There was also lots of very personal stuff people told me about the band members and their families, which I did not include. I didn't feel it was my business, or yours. I didn't bother verifying that stuff. They never put their families in the spotlight; I respected that decision.
But in case you're wondering, the stuff I'm talking about is just entirely human travails. Nothing criminal, nothing even douchebaggy. Just stuff that every family goes through, that everyone getting old goes through or knows someone who does.

Kieffer asks: "What did you find most frustrating in writing this book?"

I was pretty positive that no one in the band (especially Downie, for incredibly obvious reasons) would talk on the record. That was made clear from the outset.

As I was finishing the book, though, other roadblocks started being thrown my way, which were more than frustrating, right up to the week before it went to the printer.

On an emotional level, the answer is obvious: I didn't know if my principal subject would still be alive when it came out. (To be clear: that's not something I'd define as "frustrating," if I'm answering your question directly.) Many of my interviews that summer ended with both myself and the other person in tears. I wanted the book to be something Downie would be proud of, even though from what I know about him he was never happy with anything anyone else wrote about him.

 

The emotional weight of the whole thing was a challenge, to say the least, and not something I would expect to encounter with any other writing project for the rest of my life.


Kieffer asks: "Were there any topics you wish you could have went deeper into but couldn't due to a lack of information?"

I had a lot of trouble finding out information about Man Machine Poem, because the band did no press for it and nobody who made it was willing to talk on the record. I love that album and really wanted to get deeper into it. But Baker did do an interview with Sirius Radio, and a couple of podcasts that year, and I did get one off-the-record chat (not from the band) about the album.

I also really wanted to talk to Bob Rock about those years. I made repeated requests, but never heard back.

And obviously, I'd have loved to talked to Don Smith—but he died in 2010.

Not being able to interview Breen and Sambrook is also a fault with the book.

Kieffer asks: "Beyond the band, was there anyone you wish you could have spent more time interviewing?"

Of course. Many. Mostly people on the Hip payroll: Breen, Sambrook, Mark Vreeken, Jon Erickson, Dave Powell [who died in December 2018], Tristin Chipman, Ricky Wellington, Richard Beland, Bastedo, and obviously Billy Ray. But because the Hip was not involved, this was not possible. I found Davis Manning and heard back from him, which was... a weird exchange. In the end he just said, "Ask Bernie, he'll know what to do." So I just left that alone.

Kieffer asks: "Finally, if you were to write a sequel to this book what would you want it to focus on?"

This story is over.

The only thing left, as I said before, is for a book by Baker or Billy Ray or, hopefully, a glimpse at what Downie himself was writing those last two years.

I also think a Jake Gold memoir would be very entertaining.

 

 

SpotTraxx asks: “It seemed to me 9/11 had an impact on the band’s concerts in border towns. IMO the attendance plummeted (at least around my hometown of Detroit/Toledo which used to command very large numbers...pre 9/11. For example The Hip had played The Palace, Cobo (x3) and packed Pine Knob (x4) and then ended up playing smaller theatres for the rest of their tours here … Did anyone reference this in interviews or do you have an opinion?

That's not something I was aware of. I didn't talk to a lot of fans for the book, and I didn't talk to the band or current management; I didn't think to bring this topic up with Jake Gold. My impression was that the Hip's trajectory in America was always moving up, however incremental. I wasn't aware of any setbacks in the 2000s, but you may well be right. You would certainly know more about this than I would.

SpotTraxx also asks: "Any hints on who the anonymous peer musician was who wrote the email [at the beginning of chapter 13]?"

That was an email sent to me in confidence from someone who turned down my request for an interview. It was entirely off-the-record. I included it because it was brave enough to say what I've heard a lot of musicians and friends say over the years. It doesn't matter who said it; it summed up a common sentiment, and did so in an amusing way, which is why it's in there—and why I've only ever revealed the identity to my spouse and to mutual friends I have with that person who are their direct musical associates (i.e. members of their band).

I will say that I showed that quote to another mutual friend (not a musician), someone who knows the person in question much better than I do, and said, "Hey, can you tell who might have written this?" They had no idea. That made me feel better about including it.
Needless to say, I find the speculation very amusing—and unnecessary.

Andrew Sharpe asked: "As a huge fan were you disappointed that Rob was openly critical about the factual accuracy ... especially his line about 'spit out my coffee?' "

Of course. It was pretty galling, after he refused a fact check. There are a lot of catty things I could say here, but I won't.

I will say that I'm aware of only two factual errors in the book. One is about the release date of a Willie Dunn record—can I assume Baker is a huge Dunn fan? I am, and I'm embarrassed about this and I will correct it in future editions. (Tangent: go listen to the 2016 compilation Native North America, if you haven't already.)

The other is about the timeline of the Slinks' breakup, which is information I got directly from a member of the Slinks: Joe Pater, on his blog. I’d contacted him after reading his blog, and he said he didn’t really have anything more to add. He then wrote to me after the book came out saying that another Slink, Steve Holy, sent him a different Slinks timeline; Pater now realizes his original one, which I quoted, is inaccurate.

I can't see Baker losing any coffee about any of those facts, so I honestly don't know to what he's referring. I'd appreciate knowing. If anyone on here is aware of anything factually wrong, I want to know. Someone mentioned something about me misidentifying a bootleg.

 

[update, February 2019: before the paperback edition went to press, I reached out again to band management to correct any factual errors they might be aware of in the book. They did not respond. I also reached out to personal friends of Downie and others who might be in a position to correct anything in the book. Nothing. I put out public calls on social media, several times, and only heard back about two or three extremely trivial points—which I did correct in the new edition.]

A funny thing is that after the book came out, Jake Gold told me Bruce Dickinson's account of the Massey Hall/Horseshoe shows, where he signed the band to MCA, is full of falsehoods and not nearly as dramatic as Dickinson paints it (cancelled flights, etc.).

 

HOWEVER: Jake said, "But I'm glad you printed Bruce's version. It's a much better story." I found that hilarious.

I later told Bruce that Jake disagreed with him, and Bruce stood by his story. Here are two guys as close to the Hip's story as one can possibly be without being in the band, and they don't remember the same events the same way. I'm pretty sure that after 40 years of Willie Nelson and wine that the four surviving members of the Hip would also have different versions of various stories. THIS IS WHAT HISTORY IS. Every university history student takes a first-year course called "Historical Methods," for which the story above would be a textbook case.

FWIW both Jake and Bruce have said very flattering things about the book. As have many other people in the story, including very close friends of Downie. I don't doubt there are some who take issue with some stories, from whom I'm not hearing (yet), but I think that was inevitable.

My guess is that Baker had no idea who I am (I'm certainly not suggesting that he should have). Again, knowing that most of the band considered the Cdn music media laughable (and not entirely without reason), I don't expect he would have read HNBTS, though he's probably seen it on friends' shelves. And I was told that nobody in the band read the Maclean's pieces, or anything else anybody wrote during the summer of 2016. I don't blame them. I wouldn't either in that circumstance.

 

And so Baker is likely angry someone he didn't know wrote a book about him without his permission. Making a statement like that gives him plausible deniability if there's something in the book that makes him look bad. (Which: I don't know, is there? I don't think so.)

Finally: that quickie e-book by Marc Shapiro, which came out in the summer of 2017, is, in a word, hideous. It is most definitely "laughably wrong." The fact that it was rushed out after the final tour is nothing but a cash grab, which he basically admits, and the work is beyond sloppy (despite the fact it quotes extensively from HNBTS). Knowing that book existed—by an American, no less!—was certainly a kick in the pants for me to write this book. The idea of fans buying that in the absence of anything else was galling. Unfortunately, I think it definitely coloured impressions of what I was doing, for those inside the Hip camp and for a certain group of fans.

 

A man known only as Potsie had lots of excellent questions:

1. You briefly mention that Downie has recorded a concept record about a train derailment with Bob Rock. Can you expand upon this with any further details about the album? Do know who is in charge of shepherding the unreleased Downie solo material?

That's literally all I know about it. Several people very close to Gord confirmed its existence. It's quite old; not sure how old. Lac Megantic happened in 2013; if it's remotely inspired by that, I'd guess it was made between 2013-15. One friend told me, "It's just been sitting on [Gord's] hard drive."

I don't know who's in charge, no. Management, I would guess, or the brothers. I'm pretty sure the Hip have nothing to do with Gord's solo projects. 

 

[2022 update: it's coming out soon, according to something Bob Rock told Strombo in a recent interview]

2. The book is subtitled ‘The Story of Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip,’ for obvious reasons which you point out in the preface. In the past the band has often projected an overly idealistic outward image of a truly democratic band of brothers. Yet I’m wondering if in talking to the band’s musical peers you ever got a sense that at any time in their history (particularly the early to mid-2000s), this was a façade and that the band were functionally operating as Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip when it came to some of the creative decisions that were made? Do you feel that Downie’s vote carried more weight than others? The two examples from your book that lend credence to this idea are Downie strong-arming the band into going with Bob Rock for producer of World Container and Downie vetoing the ‘rock’ mixes of NFPA.

Bingo. As I said earlier, that was my theory, and someone who worked closely on the Hip's business end confirmed this. Another referred to those years as "Gord Downie and the Kingston 4." Pure speculation here, but I think the band knew that Gord was willing and able to leave the band if he wasn't satisfied with the artistic direction—though, considering his deep love for his bandmates, he didn't really want to. I see the entire decade of 2000-10 as a series of compromises between the band members. Which is not at all unusual for any band at that point in their career. I do think MMP, and to a lesser degree NFPA, sounded more like genuine group efforts. Again: only my opinion.

3. There is a dearth of stories regarding crazy antics or road tales from the band, the type of stories that populate most rock biographies. Was your original intent to write a book that focused more on the music and less on tales of debauchery or did this direction present itself as the best way forward during the writing process? Do you feel the appeal of the book, and hence the commercial prospects, is slightly narrowed due to this?

There will never be a book about the Tragically Hip that reads like Motley Crue's The Dirt (thank god). I think I erred on the side of portraying them purely as nice, polite Cdn boys, but that really is what most people will tell you about them.

Even if I had access to salacious stories, I don't think I would have printed them. That's not who I am, and unless those stories were super interesting or illuminating and essential to the narrative or unbelievably hilarious—or, of course, criminal—then it's not really my business.

 

[update: One of my interview subjects in 2017 told me, “Did anyone tell you about the bust in Saskatoon?” “No!” I responded. “Okay, well, I’m not going to be the guy who tells that story,” he said. I later found out what he was talking about. And a Saskatoon radio host actually asked me about it on air in the fall of 2018. We both danced around it in a weird, inside way that must have mystified most listeners.]

Here’s another story, though: Two key biz figures in the book ran into each other at some industry function shortly after I'd interviewed them. "You talk to Barclay?" one asked the other. "Yep.” “You tell him everything?" "Nope. Did you?" "Nope."

4. A couple of factual errors I noted in the book: On p. 271 "Grace, Too ended the final encore of August 14, 2016, the second of three Toronto shows." Grace, Too actually closed out the third show. The release date of DFN is also likely incorrect. You can’t be faulted for that since your source was likely the Hip website, which has it listed the same as your book. However, in discussion that took place among some fans on here, it is strongly felt that the album was released on a Saturday, most likely September 24th. This is an archived article from Billboard that supports this claim.

You're probably right. I thought I fact-checked this. I was at the second show, the one with the "I love you" moment. If you're correct, I was probably conflating the two shows.

5. Regarding the email from the peer who states “they are mostly terrible”… his (her?) beef also seems to be with the fans (“challenge their shittier fans”); I would have loved to have seen Gord’s response to this “unfocused hate.” You can’t hate fans! I'm less interested in the breaking the anonymity of this person and more interested in exactly why he feels the fans, and the band, to be terrible. Was this ever elaborated upon or are we seeing the email in its entirety in the book?

That is pretty much the email in its entirety, yes. I trimmed a couple of sentences for repetition.

As to why they feel the band is terrible, that's an entirely subjective opinion. Again, not uncommon.

I know SO MANY PEOPLE in my life as well as fellow musicians who, since the beginning, have always felt the need to qualify their appreciation for the Hip by saying something along the lines of "Yeah, but, the fans..."

Part of this fan-hate is pure snobbery from people too refined to have ever polished off a 2-4 of Molson Canadian with a couple of friends while watching HNIC. These are the kinds of people for whom AC/DC is a "guilty pleasure" (like me). These are mostly people (like me) with a university education, and/or people who are drawn to low-self-esteem music (like me). These people also tend to resist anything massively popular (unlike me), assuming that it must have been dumbed down somehow to reach a wide audience.

But let's face it: Hip shows back in the day were rowdy affairs. Not everyone there was a loogan, but that did describe a good chunk of the crowd. Someone very close to me was sexually assaulted by a group of bros in the mosh pit in the early '90s, which turned her off the band for at least 15 years. The Daniel Lanois story haunted the Hip audience's rep among fellow musicians. Hip fans can also be aggressively tribal: "What, you don't like the Hip? And you call yourself Canadian?" That's a huge turnoff for potential new fans or the mildly curious.

As to Gord's response to all this, I think he made it pretty clear here:
http://www.hipmuseum.com/nextus.html

6. I believe it was you (in Have Not Been the Same) that first pointed out that "She Didn't Know" and "When the Weight Comes Down" were written by Paul Langlois. In your current book, when discussing the decision to credit all songs to the Hip, you state "This was a lot to swallow for Gord Sinclair, who had written two-thirds of the songs at that point, both music and lyrics." I would like to challenge you on that "two-thirds" comment and hope that you can clarify. We know that Sinclair wrote 5 on the EP, meaning that 7-8 were his songs on UTH if we are to take the "2/3" comment at face-value. This doesn't work out. Even if we credit him for "I'll Believe", "Boots", "Everytime", and "Another Midnight", that gives him 9/19, less than 50%. Do you have any further insight on UTH lyrics authorship?

My memory is muddy, what's this river that I'm in? On this subject, I know as much as you do, and likely less. I based the 2/3 ratio on the EP. The Langlois theory was [Have Not Been the Same co-author] Jason Schneider's; I'm not sure where he got that from back then, but Jake Gold agreed with it. Gold couldn't remember, however, which on UTH were Sinclair’s; he posited that perhaps "Boots or Hearts" was one. Only someone inside the band could answer this question directly. Believe me, this was certainly a question on my fact-checking document I submitted.

7. Can you comment on the decision to create chapters that could be read independently? In my opinion this disrupts the flow of the book and in particular dampens the excitement of the early chapters by serving to take the reader out of the story. By choosing to organize the book in this manner you've created more of a 'reference' book than a 'story' book. I have almost no qualms about the material that was covered in those interspersed chapters (except the cover bands... worth touching upon, but too long!), and they all read well, but did you at any point consider trying to incorporate this material into the story, or potentially move it to the end of the book?

Certainly a valid opinion, and one I've heard before. No, I never considered a structure other than the one I settled on. I thought those tangents would be far too distracting in the middle of the narrative, and I found it more effective to talk about, say, hockey by talking about all the hockey songs at once and talking about Downie's personal connection to the game. Likewise: stopping every chapter to talk about the opening band on that tour would not work; it reads much better with those bands talking about their communal experiences all in one spot.

The end of the book is naturally dramatic; I didn't want to follow it up with a bunch of extended appendices.

I know a lot of people hate the cover-band chapter. I love it (except the part about me, which I lobbied to remove; my spouse and my editor wanted it in). I recognize that as the first thematic chapter, it stops the flow of the book cold. But there's no other place to put it. It would be even more jarring at the end of the book. I think no matter what the first thematic chapter was going to be, it would elicit the same reaction. I placed it where I did because after talking about the Hip's origin as a cover band, it was interesting to explore how and why they inspired so many cover bands of their own, perhaps the only Canadian act to ever do so.

As I say on the very first page: it's very easy to read every second chapter of the book if you want to stick to the narrative. For non-Hip fans who read the book, many have told me that they often skipped through the narrative chapters and focused in on the thematic ones. To each their own. I think part of the reason the book has been so successful is that it appeals to both audiences.

As for the cover-band chapter being too long: at 13 pages, it's one of the four shortest chapters.

8. The discussion of the impact of videos and MuchMusic on the band's popularity is lacking. Videos, and some of the creative ideas around them (through interviews with the directors) would have also made for a good independent chapter. Is this something you didn't give much thought to or did you view it as an idea not worth spending time on?

I stopped watching videos when I left high school in 1990, so that's a personal thing: I don't care about videos, then or now (unless they're by Bjork and/or Michel Gondry). Having watched all of the Hip's in the last year, I also think they made exceptionally shitty videos until Phantom Power. (And a few shitty ones after that, too, of course.) I love "My Music at Work." "In a World Possessed" is pretty good. And actually, "Blow at High Dough" is pretty awesome for its low-budget kitschiness, which is exactly what they were trying to achieve (and I do talk about that in the book). But aside from my personal thoughts about the medium itself, I also think videos are hard to write about in an interesting way, and they're not remotely important to the larger narrative, unless you're talking about a game-changing act like Madonna or Michael Jackson. If the Hip had a video hit that launched them in the U.S., that would be a different story.

 

 

Schaggs asked: "Do you happen to know what Steven Drake is doing now? He seemed to pivot from the Odds to the engineer/producer role, and I haven't seen him credited on anything in a really long time. I'm either missing it, or it's 'nothing.'"

He's still making music and producing. Nothing particularly high-profile, from what I can recall. He's an incredibly talented guy, and was easily one of my favourite interviews in the book. He's an odd one (no pun intended), and for sure, others have told me he's difficult to work with, a mad genius type who's burned some bridges. I got the impression he's still in touch with Johnny, and they played in Stellar Band of Neighbours together, along with Kevin Kane (Grapes of Wrath), with whom Drake made a record.

Re: videos. I'll walk back on another: I think "Grace, Too" is amazing, and so deliciously weird. I can't believe it was ever played on MuchMusic, and I mean that in a good way. I don't mean to downplay MM's influence on the band's popularity; MM was a bigger driver of hits than radio was in the '80s and '90s, IMO. Personally, I didn't find it that interesting to talk about, though I considered it. I did mention the importance of the Misty Moon show; I knew people who clung to their bootlegged copies of that.

In my Downie interview for HNBTS, I asked him about videos. He didn't have much to say (also I'm sure my question wasn't clearly defined). He seemed more interested in MM's ability to draw attention to causes like WarChild. He liked Denise Donlon. He liked Sook-Yin Lee. But he didn't have much to say about his band's videos.

Potsie says: "1. There is an interesting comment (on p. 234) from an unidentified Hip producer about the unnecessary complexity of Gord’s lyrics. He implies that there was an ‘arrogance’ to the idea that Gord could write what he wanted, presumably without any great thought given to how it would be received by the audience. You don’t identify the source of the comment; was this intentional? It feels like it might have come from Steve Berlin. Given that the Music at Work album, out of all the albums in the catalogue, suffers most under the weight of esoteric lyrics leading to underdeveloped melodies, it would fit. Can you identify the producer?"

Of course it was intentional! If I wanted you to know who said it, I would have ID'ed them. This was something someone told me off the record, so I didn't put their name beside the quote. I will say this, though: things that Berlin said in that chapter contradict the tenor of the quote we're talking about. So, no, it's not Berlin.

2. The Toronto Music Awards in November 1988 is a seminal moment in the band’s career. You describe the unusual performance of the two songs that convinced Bruce Dickinson to sign the band, yet you don’t mention what the two songs were. I’m interested in what the band felt were their two best songs to make a statement with at that point in their career. Do you know which two they played?

Wish I did, but I don't. I should have asked Jake or Bruce this. They would know (or maybe they'd disagree!). Maybe it's in that 2016 National Post interview with Bruce, can't recall.

3. Not a question, more of a comment… the discussion of Downie’s social awkwardness (on p. 266) is bang on: the gears always turning, the lack of linear thought, the search for a tangential expression, always one step ahead in the conversation. As you point out, this is often evident in interviews. I’ve rarely seen an interview with Downie where I would consider the conversation free-flowing and relaxed. His mind is always searching and he gives the appearance that it is all very unnatural. One of his great contradictions is that he appeared to be more comfortable talking to 15,000 people than he did to one person.

This is based on my own interactions with him as well, over the years. Even his emails were like that.

Edgoffin asks: "Question #1, when do you think it started to become more of a business for the band? (I will add, I don't think they ever lost touch with that original creative spark)"

In a way, it probably was almost from the very beginning—because it was the principal source of income for everybody in the band. I don't know if they ever held a job after the band started getting busy around 1985. Certainly not after 1986 when they signed with Gold & Gregg. So I'd say at least 1986. But here's a difference b/w the Hip and almost every other band: they knew it was a business, and they were smart about it. They were as invested in all business decisions as much as they were creative decisions. I don't think there was a divide there. A lot of other musicians would prefer not to think about the biz side, which leads to trouble.

Question #2: What interview were you most surprised to be granted?

The fact that I got to Chris Tsangarides through a simple Facebook message, and that he responded so quickly and enthusiastically, was a pleasant surprise. (I'm also a huge Concrete Blonde fan.) Hugh Padgham took a bit of digging, but not that much, really. Talking to him was a real thrill: the man made "In the Air Tonight!" And Peter Gabriel's third album! And Synchronicity, and Kate Bush, and, and, and...

 

Both those Brits were perfect gentlemen, and so lovely to talk to. (And in the case of Tsangarides, incredibly timely, right before tragedy struck—he died six months later.)

Peter Garrett was also a thrill. I saw Midnight Oil at the Concert Hall in Toronto the month that Diesel and Dust came out in 1988, and that was a life-changing show. Still in my top 5 of all time. He was relatively easy to find because he'd retired from politics, and had put out a solo record that year and a memoir, and was touring in Australia, so he had an active publicist.

Of course there were many Canadian heroes of mine that I talked to as well for this book, but I wouldn't say I was surprised to get those interviews. Those people are much more accessible.