The Never-Ending Playlist 4: Influences

The Band w/ Ronnie Hawkins

There are six playlists in this series. This is number #4, though I’m annotating it second (just because I’m posting this before a summer long weekend). These are songs and artists covered by the Tragically Hip in their infancy, and people who influenced them otherwise. The Hip always tried to avoid obvious choices in their cover songs; I tried to do the same when putting this list together. I certainly didn’t want this to merely sound like classic rock radio on any given day. Some are choices based on stories in the book; some are entirely conjecture on my part. Hopefully it’s illuminating for both long-time fans as well as those new to this band and their music.

Spotify link here. 
Tidal link here. 

1. Stompin’ Tom Connors, “The Singer (Voice of the People).” Okay, right out of the gate, I have no idea if the Tragically Hip have any affection for the man most dedicated to capturing Canada in song, or if they think he’s a rube. (They did, of course, cover “Sudbury Saturday Night” when they played Sudbury once.) But I love Stompin’ Tom, and this is a song that has haunted me ever since I first heard it used in the Bruce McDonald film Roadkill. I quoted it in its entirety as the epilogue to Have Not Been the Same. It’s the first song I wanted to hear when I learned of Tom’s death a few years back; it’s the first song I wanted to hear the day Gord Downie died.

2. Lord Creator, “Kingston Town.” Again, I have no evidence the Tragically Hip are even aware this song exists. But it’s an underrated reggae classic, and I contemplated titling one of the first chapters with the chorus lyric: “There is magic in Kingston town.”

3. Velvet Underground, “Sweet Jane.” The first song of the first set when Gord Downie first performed in public with the Slinks, his first high school band, at a KCVI school dance. Downie loved Lou Reed. If you’ve never seen him sing “How Does It Feel” with Kevin Hearn and Reed’s band, check this out link.

4. Rolling Stones, “Dance Little Sister.” This band is the single biggest influence on early Hip; I could populate an entire playlist of the Hip’s favourite Stones tracks. Picked this one because Rob Baker has said that it’s Mick Taylor’s guitar solo here, which he first heard when he was just learning how to play guitar, that he feels sums up his own approach to lead work.

5. Howlin’ Wolf, “Smokestack Lightnin’.” Although I cringe every time someone describes early Hip as “blues rock,” there’s no denying the band’s deep love for the genre. Howlin’ Wolf in particular was a favourite of Downie’s, both for his vocal approach and his longevity. He marveled at stories of Wolf’s performances, like this one, from Robert Palmer’s book Deep Blues: “Where was Wolf?  Suddenly he sprang out onto the stage from the wings.  He was a huge hulk of a man, but he advanced across the stage in sudden burst of speed, his head pivoting from side to side, eyes huge and white, eyeballs rotating wildly. He seemed to be having an epileptic seizure, but no, he suddenly lunged for the microphone, blew a chorus of raw, heavily rhythmic harmonica, and began moaning.  He had the hugest voice I had ever heard — it seemed to fill the hall and get right inside your ears, and when he hummed and moaned in falsetto, every hair on your neck crackled with electricity. …  He was the Mighty Wolf, no doubt about it.  Finally, an impatient signal from the wings let him know his portion of the show was over.  Defiantly, Wolf counted off a bone-crushing rocker, began singing rhythmically, feigned an exit, and suddenly made a flying leap for the curtain at the side of the stage. Holding the microphone under his beefy right arm and singing into it all the while, he began climbing up the curtain, going higher and higher until he was perched far above the stage, the thick curtain threatening to rip, the audience screaming with delight.  Then he loosened his grip and, in a single easy motion, slid right back down the curtain, hit the stage, cut off the tune, and stalked away, to the most ecstatic cheers of the evening.  He was then fifty-five years old.”

6. Junior Wells, “Messin’ With the Kid.” Several early covers the Hip did were lifted from the Blues Brothers, the band that featured, of course, fellow Kingstonian Dan Aykroyd. But because I think the Blues Brothers are hot garbage, I’m going to include the original artists’ versions here instead. (BTW, did you know there are Blues Brothers tribute acts making the circuit? What’s the point of that?!)

7. Don Covay, “Mercy Mercy.” I do not think the Stones are hot garbage, but my tolerance for them is limited. So, again, this playlist contains the original tracks that the Stones covered; the Hip learned their versions from the Stones, and then sped them up.

8. Monkees, “I’m a Believer.” Other than the Stones, the Hip’s other big early influence seems to be… the Monkees? Yes, there was a lot more to this cartoonish TV band than meets the eye, as generations of hardcore music nerds will tell you ad nauseum. The Hip were those guys. Downie would often introduce this song as “a song by Neil Diamond”—which is true, and the kind of little-known fact music nerds like to wield. The Hip even took their name from a TV skit on a show that Monkee Mike Nesmith created in the early ’80s, Elephant Parts.

9. Dale Hawkins, “Susie-Q.” This is the original; the Hip could have learned this set staple from the source or any number of cover versions, including the epic jam by CCR.

10. Roy Head, “Treat Her Right.” The kind of ’60s R&B obscurity the early Hip specialized in—and they got to it before George Thorogood covered it in 1988, and before it was featured in the 1991 film The Commitments.

11. Them, “I Can Only Give You Everything.” Van Morrison’s ’60s R&B band is, to these ears, far superior to the Rolling Stones’ earliest days. This is a song Downie did with Baker in the Filters, and carried over to early Hip sets. It’s also the title of the book’s second chapter. After the book was published, I heard Jake Gold tell an interviewer that this song opened the set the Hip played the night they auditioned for Gold and Allan Gregg. They signed a deal that night. Both parties gave the relationship everything they had. 

12. Pretty Things, “Don’t Bring Me Down.” Confession: I know next to nothing about this band, other than by reputation. The Hip were obsessed with ’60s British garage bands who drew from the blues, and this group usually ranked right beside the Stones and the Yardbirds as the Holy Trinity of original influences for the Hip. It’s why, along with Them, each gets more than one track on this playlist.

13. Rock Roll, “Bedrock Twitch.” Yes, this is from an episode of The Flintstones. How the Hip managed to learn this song is a mystery: if I had to guess, I’d say someone’s family was an early adopter of the VCR and recorded the episode (the ’60s show was still in wide after-school syndication in the ’80s). This was a popular live favourite. Almost everyone I talked to about the Hip’s earliest days would mention this song in particular. It’s safe to say no one else covered it.

14. Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs, “Wooly Bully.” I don’t doubt the Hip played a lot of frat parties at Queen’s and Western. This would have been a set necessity.

15. Monkees, “Mary, Mary.” It was years before I knew from where Run-DMC sampled the chorus of their 1988 hit; the Hip were covering this song well before that. It’s definitely the funkiest Monkees.

16. Marvin Gaye, “Hitch Hike.” Another soul classic plundered by the Stones, and later the Hip. The riff also inspired the Velvet Underground’s “There She Goes Again.”

17. Them, “Baby, Please Don’t Go.” This is the direct inspiration for “New Orleans is Sinking,” in terms of the guitar riff, the structure, and the lyrical reference. There are plenty of versions of this blues classic, but you can bet the Hip learned it from Them.

18. Yardbirds, “Train Kept A-Rollin’.” Everybody covered this song, including the Stones. And the Hip.

19. Pretty Things, “Come See Me.” See above, track 12.

20. Doors, “Roadhouse Blues.” Perhaps the most obvious song in the Hip’s early repertoire, and a guaranteed crowd-pleaser at any beer bash. Because audiences didn’t know what to make of Downie’s stage presence, he was often compared to Jim Morrison—because, you know, weirdness. It is true that Downie was asked to join the Slinks because he knew all the words to “The End” (or it could have been “When the Music’s Over”—Downie gave varying accounts of this story), and that the band was once offered steady work as a Doors cover band in London, Ont.—an offer they laughed off because, as Baker said, “We didn’t even have a keyboard player!”

21. The Band w/ Ronnie Hawkins, “Who Do You Love?” A Bo Diddley jam that ticks several boxes for this list: it’s a song the Hip covered, it’s done here by Canadian icons The Band (“Robbie Robertson was like God to me,” Baker said), sung by Ronnie Hawkins, who ruled the roost at some of the same century-old Ontario hotels the Hip would play 25 years after he did—Downie would even swing from exposed pipes above the stage, something my parents told me they saw Hawkins do at the Embassy Hotel in London in the early ’60s. This version, of course, comes from The Last Waltz—which is now, post-2016, the second-most-important farewell concert to be filmed.

22. Neil Young, “Tonight’s the Night.” This is a song Downie’s Country of Miracles covered live; there’s a great story in the book about doing it at the Edmonton Folk Festival in 2001, going on after Baaba Maal. It’s also a song Downie references in the 2002 song “All Tore Up”: “Play your tonight’s the nights right / and don’t clear the place.” This album is a “difficult” one in Young’s discography (along with dozens others, mind you) in that it was decidedly ragged and rough, and its release was delayed for several years after the mainstream success of Harvest. It’s a total don’t-give-a-fuck triumph, and it’s the Neil Young album that the most hardcore Neilheads adore. Confession: I had never listened to this album all the way through, until I read Jimmy McDonough’s bio Shakey (which I did on the recommendation of Steve Jordan when I started writing this book).

23. Patti Smith, “Dancing Barefoot.” Not aware of the Hip ever covering this song—though their friends Crash Vegas often did. This song is structurally very similar to several Hip songs, and I’d be shocked if Downie didn’t take some cues from Smith’s writing and performance. Because men are never compared to women, nobody really talks about the direct line between Patti Smith and Gord Downie. Nobody, that is, except the Constantines’ Bry Webb, who first suggested it to me.

24. The Clash, “Brand New Cadillac.” If you were a teenager in a rock band in the early ’80s, you probably covered this song. The Slinks, the Rodents, and the Filters all did.

25. The Stooges, “Down on the Street.” Jason Schneider, co-author of Have Not Been the Same, is convinced that “Locked in the Trunk of a Car” was inspired by this guitar riff. I don’t think he’s wrong.

26. David Bowie, “Watch That Man.” The Hip were huge Bowie fans; Man Machine Poem was originally going to be called “Dougie Stardust,” for some reason. Downie sings a bit of “China Girl” on Live Between Us. They covered “Queen Bitch”—a song Arcade Fire once did with Bowie himself—on the 2006 tour. This song, from Aladdin Sane, is a less obvious choice, but it was one covered by the Slinks.

Teenage Head

27. Teenage Head, “Picture My Face.” Confession: I never got the appeal of this iconic Canadian band, but I think that’s because I never saw them live with Frankie Venom. Geoff Pevere’s recent biography, Gods of the Hammer, was an entertaining read; he argues, convincingly, that Venom was the greatest frontman of his time around these parts, and inspired countless performers—including Downie and Hugh Dillon. This song was on the Slinks’ set list. I’ve also heard the Sadies do a great version live.

28. Rush, “In the Mood.” From the very first album, with John Rutsey on drums. Apparently Rob Baker saw them on that tour; he would have been 12 years old.

29. The Clash, “I’m So Bored with the USA.” It’s very funny to me: the idea of teenage Gord Sinclair and Rob Baker playing this in the Baker basement and then going on to form a band where they’d constantly be asked about American success or lack thereof.

30. Go-Gos, “We Got the Beat.” I read somewhere that this was covered by either the Slinks, Filters or Hip. Don’t know if that’s true, but it’s fun to imagine. It does have a beat that rides the floor tom, which Downie once told Johnny Fay is something guaranteed to make him move. Imagine the "Little Bones" riff played over this beat. 

31. Talking Heads, “Pulled Up.” Downie once cited Byrne as an influence, though I’m not aware of him or the Hip ever covering Talking Heads. If they did, this is what I imagine they’d pick.

32. Rick James, “Super Freak.” According to the Slinks’ Joe Pater, this was in the band’s repertoire. Who wouldn’t want to hear Downie do this one?!

33. Doug and the Slugs, “Making It Work.” I don’t know if the Hip liked this band or not, but I can guarantee they saw them at the Lakeview Manor. I imagine the two bands likely shared a love of the Monkees. Singer Doug Bennett was one of the most entertaining frontmen in Canadian music in the early ’80s. Keyboardist Simon Kendall would play with Baker in Strippers Union years later.

34. David Wilcox, “Downtown Came Uptown.” Another frequent flier at the Lakeview Manor.

35. Payola$, “Eyes of a Stranger.” Featuring guitarist Bob Rock, who later produced World Container and We Are the Same—though perhaps he’s most famous for his supporting role in the Metallica documentary Some Kind of Monster. Singer Paul Hyde is/was a great storyteller in song. This band, much like the Hip later on, spent most of their career explaining to the Canadian press why they didn’t break in America. As if that matters.

36. Red Rider, “Human Race.” Tom Cochrane’s first band is much more interesting than one would expect if you only knew “Life is a Highway.” Guitarist Ken Greer is a wizard. He also produced the Hip’s debut EP.

37. The Police, “Synchronicity II.” Johnny Fay wore out several copies of this cassette when he was 12 years old, and collected enough Police bootlegs to spot subtle changes in Stewart Copeland’s drum fills through the years. Years later, he’d hire producer Hugh Padgham for In Violet Light. Interviewing the legendary Padgham was one of the greatest joys of writing this book.

38. Replacements, “Bastards of Young.” Contemporaries of the Hip, this band recorded at Ardent Studios in Memphis just before the Hip arrived to make Up to Here. The Hip covered this song on their 2006 tour.

39. Keith Richards, “Talk is Cheap.” Engineered by Don Smith, and released right before he got the gig producing Up to Here.

40. Steve Earle, “I Ain’t Ever Satisfied.” A new Americana movement in the late ’80s, spearheaded by Earle, Lucinda Williams and others, undoubtedly influenced the sound of the EP and Up to Here.

41. R.E.M., “Pretty Persuasion.” The Hip were often touted as “R.E.M. meets the Rolling Stones” in their early years. It became a cliché, but it’s not inaccurate. Downie shares many similarities with Michael Stipe: both are unusual, enigmatic, poetic frontmen at a time when that was in short supply in rock’n’roll. Musically, both bands shared many influences: ’60s garage rock, Americana country, punk and new wave. Pretty sure R.E.M. were never into Rush, though.

42. Yardbirds, “Heart Full of Soul.” This playlist stops being chronological here, as we wind down the pines, so to speak. But this seminal Hip influence flows nicely out of R.E.M., no?

43. Gordon Lightfoot, “Sundown.” From Gord to Gord: the elder was an enormous influence on the younger. “As a ten-year-old kid listening to ‘Sundown,’ it sounded like a secret, from you to me,” Downie told Lightfoot in an on-stage conversation between the two of them and Laurie Brown. “It blew my mind to know that a song could be so mysterious and sound so dangerous—it’s a dangerous song. I think about your austerity and economy every time I put pen to paper.”

44. Bruce Cockburn, “Tokyo.” In the mid-’90s, the Hip were asked in an online chat what songs they might like to cover. Gord Sinclair picked Sons of Freedom’s “Circle Circle.” Gord Downie picked this song. The guitar shapes played over a pulsing root-note bass in the verses are not unlike those heard in "50 Mission Cap."

45. John Martyn, “Don’t Want to Know.” A ’70s psych-folk song later covered by Dr. John and Blackie and the Rodeo Kings, this was slipped into the middle of “New Orleans is Sinking” by Downie at Halifax’s Misty Moon, at a show taped for broadcast by MuchMusic. Yet another example of Downie’s delight in diving deep into his record crate for references.

46. Cowboy Junkies, “Misguided Angel.” Contemporaries of the Hip, they seemed to have little in common other than a love of Americana. But at the very least, Downie was a huge fan of The Trinity Session (who isn’t?), and borrowed the band’s accordionist, Jaro Czerwinec, to play on Coke Machine Glow.

47. Led Zeppelin, “Black Mountain Side.” As children of the ’70s, of course everyone in the Hip loved Zeppelin, and it was the thrill of a lifetime to tour and hang out with Jimmy Page and Robert Plant in 1994. I don’t hear a lot of Page’s electric work in Rob Baker, but I do hear a similar approach to acoustic guitar, as this track shows: think of the intro to "Wild Mountain Honey" or the open-tuning intro he was playing to "Ahead by a Century" on the final tour. 

48. Rolling Stones, “2000 Light Years From Home.” When the Hip covered the Stones early on, they mostly covered the covers, not Jagger/Richards originals. This is an exception.

49. Jimi Hendrix, “Third Stone from the Sun.” Rob Baker would usually segue into this song in the middle of “2000 Light Years from Home.”

50. Neu, “Hallogallo.” I have no idea if the Hip ever listened to this German art-rock band of the early ’70s, but Johnny Fay conjures this “motorik” beat often, particularly on “Escape is at Hand for the Travelling Man,” especially with Baker and Langlois’s interwoven guitars there sounding specifically like this track.

The Never-Ending Playlist 1. The biggest hits

This is the first of several playlists that can function as an unofficial soundtrack to my book, The Never-Ending Present: The Story of Gord Downie and the Tragically Hip, published by ECW Press in April 2018. The first two playlists feature 40 Hip tracks each: one set of greatest hits for newcomers (or a refresher for lapsed fans), one of deep(er) cuts and less obvious selections. Later we’ll feature Gord Downie solo tracks, influences, peers, and more.

The Never-Ending Present Playlist #1: The biggest hits

Spotify link is here.
Tidal link is here. 

1.  “Blow at High Dough.” The first song on the first album was many people’s first impression of the band. “They shot a movie once in my hometown”: this is clearly a once-in-a-lifetime event in the locale, long before Canada became a popular and economical place for U.S. studios to shoot films. “Down at the speedway, some kind of Elvis thing”: Hollywood vs. the hayseeds; the big time and the small potatoes. And then, before our ears, with a suspended stop and one ringing power chord—a moment filled with the tension of a cliff diver right before he makes an impact—this bar band from a tiny Ontario city transforms into stadium-worthy status alongside AC/DC. Rob Baker once said that his favourite part of any Hip show was during this song, when the whole band kicks in after the opening. He’s not alone.

2.   “Small Town Bringdown.” The first Hip song I ever heard (on Q107 in Toronto), the first song on the EP, the first single released to radio. This is also the song Bruce Dickinson heard in his New York City kitchen, when he played a sampler CD for an upcoming music conference and decided he had to see this band and sign them to MCA Records.

3.   “Last American Exit.” How could we tell this band was Canadian? “I’m on the last American exit to the north land … to my homeland.”

4.   “38 Years Old.” An entirely fictional story set during a very real event, the biggest prison break in Canadian history, which took place 10 miles away from Downie’s childhood home in Amherstview. “It was pretty exciting at the time,” he said, “the biggest thing to ever happen where nothing ever happens.” It was 1972; he was eight years old, with an older brother named Mike and two older sisters, but that’s where the real-life parallels end. Though a fan favourite, this was left off set lists for years.

5.   “New Orleans is Sinking.” The first of many Downie songs about death in the water. Based on a guitar riff from Them’s version of “Baby Please Don’t Go,” this was played at almost every Tragically Hip show since it was written. Often, a jam in the middle would be a place to workshop new material, including some of the band’s biggest hits, like “Ahead By a Century.”

6.   “Boots or Hearts.” This longtime favourite was the first song of the first show, in Victoria, of the Man Machine Poem tour in 2016. “When things fall apart, man, they really fall apart.” Except they didn’t.

7.   “Little Bones.” Written in New Orleans while recording Road Apples, where it was humid and “so sticky” that Downie needed to “butter [his] cue finger up” to play billiards in the converted mansion where the band was recording. Upon arriving in the city, a cab driver recommended a local eatery with advice, “Eat that chicken slow, don’t worry about them little bones.” Downie was reading Timothy Findley’s Last of the Crazy People at the time, in which there is a cat named Little Bones. This wonderfully surreal set of images culminates in a chorus that mutates on a different series of puns each time, all set to one of the band’s greatest rock riffs.

8.   “Three Pistols.” This song was left off Up to Here; it wasn’t deemed strong enough. Which seems shocking, though demos from the time validate the decision. After another couple of years playing it on the road, it had morphed into another one of the band’s barn-burners, with a lyric referencing Tom Thomson—again, death in the water is a theme, as is a missing icon (see: Bill Barilko).

9.   “Fiddler’s Green.” Written after the death of Downie’s five-year-old nephew from a congenital heart condition, this was left off set lists for years, despite being an acoustic campfire favourite among Hip fans. It returned around 2006, and was on the set list at the last show, where Downie dedicated it to his sister, who was in the audience.

10.  “Fifty-Mission Cap.” The only non-novelty hockey song to ever make the Top 40, this song about the mysterious disappearance of Bill Barilko came out in the fall of 1992, when the Toronto Maple Leafs were considered a Stanley Cup contender for the first time in decades (spoiler: they didn’t make it). By sheer coincidence, the Leafs were also retiring Barilko’s sweater that year; plans to do so in April ’92 were delayed by a players strike, so it was bumped to October—11 days after Fully Completely was released.

11.  “Locked in the Trunk of a Car.” This lyric sprung from a short film Downie worked on at Queen’s as well as a narrative captured on a live version of “Highway Girl.” Mixed in with a bit of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Downie claimed it was actually a metaphor for a relationship. But it made a lot of people—including Downie—feel queasy, despite being one of the band’s biggest hits. It rarely made set lists in later years.

12. “Wheat Kings.” This song is ostensibly about the wrongful conviction case of David Milgaard, but you wouldn’t know that from the lyrics, which are characteristically opaque for Downie. Either way, it’s full of some of his strongest images, and is the one Hip song you’re most likely to hear at a Canadian campfire. Even the loons join in.

13. “Grace, Too.” A mid-tempo boom-bap beat, a melodic bass riff, and layers of guitars that suggest they’re building up to something, but never do—which is the point, in tune with the unresolved narrative in the lyric about the plotting of a crime. Baker’s guitar never takes the lead exactly, but it starts off like a mist and gets increasingly dense with richer textures until he’s conjuring snow squalls. By the time the song ends, he’s making whale music. Considering it’s one of the Hip’s most popular and enduring songs, “Grace, Too” is remarkable for what it isn’t, rather than what it is.

14. “Nautical Disaster.” Again, unlikely hit-single material: an endlessly circular chord progression with linear lyrics that never repeat, with neither a chorus nor even a single rhyme. So many lines are bone-chilling, starting with the opening stanza, with the “screaming that filled my head all day.” Downie thought the song was haunted: he found an early notebook with “endless drafts of it—endless, but they don’t really change.” If he ever got remotely distracted while performing it, “the song may as well end.”

15.  “So Hard Done By.” “Interesting and sophisticated / refusing to be celebrated.” This song was recorded as a rote rocker for Fully Completely, and wisely rejected. By the time they got to New Orleans to record Day For Night, it became sultry and slinky, an album highlight.

16. “Gift Shop.” Like “Grace, Too,” this is ostensibly a song where nothing much happens—and again, that’s the point, this time for an otherworldly, out-of-body lyric. Unlike “Grace, Too,” this song has a catchy bap-ba-da-da chorus, and some haunting Hammond organ. Baker’s guitar was recorded in a barn in -40° C. “That’s what really cold air sounds like,” mixer Steven Drake told me.

17.  “Springtime in Vienna.” In later years, Downie said this was his favourite Tragically Hip song in the band’s entire discography. It’s hard to imagine a more succinct single line than, “We live to survive our paradoxes.”

18. “Ahead by a Century.” You may have heard this one before. I hear it every week when it’s played in the hallways of my child’s school, right before the Indigenous land acknowledgement and the national anthem. Fitting.

19. “Bobcaygeon.” Just because Downie drops the loaded term “Aryan” into the bridge of this song doesn’t mean it’s about a 1933 Nazi riot in Toronto, as is widely assumed (Downie never talked about the lyric in public): there were plenty of neo-Nazi incidents and police riots in Toronto in the 1990s, from which the narrator of this song is escaping when he heads to his lover’s place in cottage country. This is one of only a handful of Hip songs Downie ever performed in a solo set. “It’s my song, I wrote it,” he told one collaborator.

20. “Poets.” This tongue-in-cheek send-up of popular perceptions of poetry also happens to be perhaps the most ridiculous set of lyrics Downie ever wrote—as anyone who’s ever covered it or sang it at karaoke can tell you. It’s also the grooviest rock song they wrote post-Road Apples, one in which their Stones influence came right to the forefront.

21. “Fireworks.” This is one of the Hip’s greatest rock songs in a pop format, as opposed to blues-based numbers that defined their work up to this point. There’s a classic riff with a boogaloo push, with hints of the Romantics’ new wave hit “What I Like About You” and the Who’s “I Can’t Explain.” Contrary to popular belief, and from what you would infer from the opening line, this is not a song about hockey, but about marriage.

22.  “My Music at Work.” This title was borrowed from an ad campaign at a Toronto easy-listening station, EZ Rock. The station’s general manager, Marc Paris, told journalist Marc Weisblott, “We figured it would be a good idea to promote the station as something to listen to from nine-to-five. As a way of life.” Talking about a song with the lyric about avoiding trends and clichés, Paris went on to admit, with no apparent sense of irony, “We thought about having some fun with [the song ‘My Music at Work’] during our morning show. Then we decided against it. There is a phobia that our audience will tune out any fads. [“Avoid trends and cliché,” sings Downie.] We wouldn't want to compel them to go away and start listening somewhere else, and [playing the song] would mean introducing something to the audience they don't know. We don't want to do that. Weird we are not.”

23. “Putting Down.” “There’s reasons for the road, I guess / to document the Indigenous.” Huh.

24. “Lake Fever.” One of the Hip’s rare forays into smooth adult pop, this song has aged considerably better than its initial reception would suggest.

25.  “It’s a Good Life If You Don’t Weaken.” This was a band who always led with a rocker. That this was chosen as the first single from In Violet Light was an unusual move at the time: it’s a ballad, it’s moody, it’s weird, the title is extremely long. But it was not only the catchiest song on the album, it was also one of the band’s greatest lyrical and musical triumphs, and a song many returned to during the fateful summer of 2016.

26. “The Darkest One.” This song got more attention that it might have from radio thanks to a video featuring Don Cherry and the Trailer Park Boys.

27.  “Silver Jet.” A man with many Gords and Cheryls in his audience penned this priceless gem: “There's a still in the night, a tuneless moonlight /
Just the I-need-you-and-here's-whys of snoring Gords and Cheryls.”

28. “At the Hundredth Meridian” (live). Confession: I’ve always hated the Fully Completely version of this song, which sounded like tuneless, flaccid funk best left in the ashes of the ’90s. But live, it was always a jam. By 2004, when the Hip recorded That Night in Toronto, it was monstrous. (Another confession: I don’t think anything from 2004’s In Between Evolution is worth including on this playlist. Fight me.)

29. “Yer Not the Ocean.” Yes, Bob Rock polished this band, bringing out their melodic side and more musical complexity. But with results like this, why argue?

30.  “The Lonely End of the Rink.” A crushing riff, a reggae lilt to the verses and a ska bridge, a soaring lead guitar, and an incredibly personal lyric from Downie—written about his father, Edgar—adds up to one of the most underrated singles in the Hip’s canon, and certainly the most musically diverse inside a single song. The story behind this song is one of the most beautiful in the book, bringing tears to the eyes of this non-hockey-playing writer every time.

31.  “In View.” Hip purists hated this perfect pop song—what’s with that plinky toy piano and synth riff?—but it gave the Hip one of only three No. 1 singles of their career. “That song keeps giving you more and more,” one of their peers told me. “It has four choruses. I’ve listened to that song with musicians while in a van on tour, and I’d say, ‘No, wait! There are two more more choruses that are going to hit.’ It doesn’t stop, it’s so good.”

32.  “Love is a First.” A bass line from Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer.” A Johnny Marr guitar riff. A solo that sounds like Tom Morello from Rage Against the Machine. What’s going on here? Who cares? It totally works. It also gave the Hip one of their last radio hits.

33. “Coffee Girl.” Another much-maligned single, primarily because it doesn’t sound like anything most people expect the Hip to do, with its hip-hop drum beat, its Herb Alpert-esque trumpet solo and the surprisingly non-creepy image of a middle-aged man observing a young barista. Belongs on a mix tape with “Cat Power and classic Beck.”

34.  “Morning Moon.” Another outlier: a somewhat straightforward country song, perhaps the only time Gord Sinclair played a root-fifth bass pattern in the Hip. The lyric deals with both a partner’s anxiety and the economics of environmental destruction (“When something’s too cheap, someone’s paying something”). Seek out the version Sarah Harmer performed on CBC Radio’s Q.

35. “Now For Plan A.” Speaking of Harmer, she appears in the video and sings harmony on this gorgeous ballad, the Hip’s greatest since “It’s a Good Life.” That it took the old friends this long to collaborate on a Hip album is kind of shocking.

36. “At Transformation.” When it was revealed that Downie’s wife had struggled with and beat breast cancer, it was assumed this was one of the songs that addressed it: “I want to help you lift enormous things.” In fact, this debuted at the Bobcaygeon show two months before she was diagnosed.

37. “Streets Ahead.” For all their musical progression, the Hip were still capable of bashing out a quick rocker reminiscent of their earliest days.

38. “In a World Possessed By the Human Mind.” “Just give me the news.” That was the first lyric of the first single released after fans found out about Downie’s diagnosis. Thankfully, the strength of this song signalled that this band wasn’t going out with a whimper. It was a good omen: Man Machine Poem was their best-reviewed album in almost 20 years.

39.  “Tired as Fuck.” Rob Baker’s jazz influence rarely came to the fore in the Hip, other than some early, never-recorded songs and some later B-sides—and here, the most unlikely single the Hip ever released to radio.

40. “Machine.” The last song on the last Hip album (to date) is epic and soaring, and should have become a live staple had fate not intervened.