October 22: Calgary
I’ve
never been to Calgary. When my band toured out west, we spent a lot of time in
Edmonton, a city whose music scene I’ve always loved. Calgary was always a
mystery to me. Until Chad Van Gaalen came along, I was hard pressed to think of
a single Calgarian artist I dug. I’m excited to finally explore and rectify my
Central Canadian ignorance.
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| Phantom of the National Music Centre |
Upon
arriving, I immediately head to the National Music Centre, which I’ve been
reading about for years and am thrilled to finally witness. I’m given a guided
tour by program director Adam Fox, who once lived in Toronto and fondly
remembers my writing for Eye Weekly. I get the behind-the-scenes special tour
of the vintage synth collection, including the legendary Tonto, as seen in Phantom
of the Paradise, one of my childhood favourites. My gig here is not until
next week, but that day will be busy, and I needed to come here first because
I’ve had my books for this leg of the tour shipped here.
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| Luka Symons |
Dinner
is with my old campus radio friend Luka Symons, who went on to be a well-known
DJ at CKUA, heard throughout Alberta. She’s regrettably out of that scene now
and working as a nutritionist, but her love and passion for music still run
deep, and her enthusiasm is always infectious.
I’m
staying with Patrick Finn, a U of C professor I interviewed for the book. He
first came to my attention as someone who uses Downie’s lyrics in curricula; in
2016 I was commissioned to write a slight story for Maclean’s university issue.
Finn and I had a great conversation from which I could only use a couple of
quotes in the story, and when I called him again a year later, we had a
fascinating chat about Downie’s entire approach to performance. I asked him to
host my Calgary event; he agreed and also offered me his basement suite. We
chat for a couple of hours with video of the Hip’s final show playing in the
background, which I haven’t seen since I wrote the chapter about it.
October 23: Calgary / Heartland Café, Medicine Hat /
Lethbridge
I wake up in Calgary and Patrick Finn takes me on a hike up
nearby Nose Hill, with a beautiful panorama of Calgary, the Rockies and the
Prairies. Then it’s off to Medicine Hat.
I booked this stop when I thought I'd be driving west from
Winnipeg and thought I'd need a stop between Regina and Lethbridge. Long story
short: it would cost me $600 to rent a car in Winnipeg and return it there; it
would cost me $3,300 to rent a car in Winnipeg and drop it off in Vancouver.
Hence the decision to fly to Calgary, rent a car for a few days, and hop on
planes for the rest, which is surprisingly cheap and far less tiring.
I listen to Albertans Corb Lund’s Five-Dollar Bill and
Rae Spoon’s Bodiesofwater on the drive. I don’t have any Jr. Gone Wild
on my iPod, sadly.
My first stop is at the local TV station for a spot on the noon
show. After I’m ushered on to set, I hear a booming, welcoming voice: “Anybody
who wrote Have Not Been the Same is always welcome in my studio!” The
host is Dan Reynish, a New Brunswicker who’s lived all over, including a stint
in Toronto where he worked at HMV’s flagship Yonge Street location. He’s very
excited to talk about The Never-Ending Present. He’s one of the only
people in town who is, apparently.
What to do in Medicine Hat? I have a lot of time to kill. I
hang out in the beautiful library for a bit. I laugh out loud at a sign for
Gaslight Dental (“That didn’t hurt a bit!”). I marvel at the intact ’50s neon
sign for the otherwise dive-y looking Assiniboia Inn on the main drag (I later
learn it’s nicknamed “the Sin Bin”). I go to the thrift store to buy a
perfectly fitting suit jacket—for $5.
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| Heartwood Café |
I pull up to the venue, a quaint little café beside the
railroad tracks, where they tell me they hide the fancy teacups when a local
metal band books a gig there. The metal band has posters up; I don’t, despite
sending some in advance. Maybe a listing ran in the paper? Maybe the café’s FB
page would draw some folks? The girl behind the counter tells me, “My parents
are both Hip freaks. I was dating a guy who didn’t like the Hip. I had to break
up with him.” I’m cautiously optimistic.
The venue has a couple of tables of eating families about
half an hour before I start. There is a darts tournament in an adjoining room.
The families eventually leave. The dartists (?) stay on their side. At the
appointed hour, there is no one sitting in the rows of chairs in front of me.
There’s no one there 15 minutes later, either.
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| An excited crowd in Medicine Hat |
Then a table of three people come and sit at a table off to
the side. One of them is wearing a Hip hat. That’s a good sign. I approach,
welcome, and explain the situation: I could go up there and read, or we could
just sit here and gab over a couple of pints. They opt for the latter. I’m not
drinking on tour. The trio includes Jeremy Appel, who works at the local paper
and apparently tried to get in touch with me for a preview piece. His friend
Whitney works in admin at the paper, and her man, David, the guy in the Hip
hat, works at a car dealership.
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| The lifesavers of Medicine Hat: Whitney, Jeremy and Dave |
They apologize for the turnout; apparently the
last time the Hip played Medicine Hat, in 2015, the venue was half full. Not a
lot of acts make a stop here at all; this trio often drives to Calgary for
shows. What could have been an absolutely disastrous opening to this leg of the
tour was rescued by these three. Not sure what I would have done without them:
just packed up and left?
When we’re done, I hop in the car and drive to Lethbridge.
The booker there has booked me in a hotel, one of only four I’m staying in
during the 19 gigs this month.
October 24: Lethbridge, the Geomatic Attic / Fernie, B.C.
I’ve been sent to this town with some very specific tasks. My
lady spent several years of her childhood here, and so I have to go and
photograph the family home, the school across the street, a cemetery, and
various other landmarks, as well as visit the university where her dad did grad
work.
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| Feelin' coulee |
Lethbridge is beautiful. The houses are lined with
mid-century modern homes. The downtown is developed but retains the small-town
Prairie charm. (I also see posters for the gig, which is a good omen and a
welcome change.) I had an amazing Mexican meal for lunch. The architecture of
the university, built into the coulees (note to self: check spelling), is
gorgeous. Then there’s the coulees themselves, the rolling hills in the valley
between the town and the campus, where I spend most of the day on a long walk.
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| Mike Spence of the Geomatic Attic |
I’m a bit skeptical of the venue’s location: on the far east
side of town, away from campus and the downtown, in an industrial mall surrounded
by car dealerships. The guy running the space is Mike Spencer, who runs his geomatic
business on the main floor of the venue, which, as the name suggests, is on the
second floor. "I try to make money downstairs, and try not to lose it
upstairs," he tells me. He also books shows at larger downtown venues, and
an annual festival that’s attracted the likes of Steve Earle and Los Lobos. The
venue itself is staffed primarily by volunteers committed to making culture
happen in Lethbridge.
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| Steven Foord, John Wort Hannam |
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| Everyone in Lethbridge shouted, 'Medicine Hat!' |
This show is fantastic. Professional stage and lighting.
Solid crowd of about 50. The musical guests are outstanding: Steven Foord, who
runs his own venue downtown, and John Wort Hannam. They bookend my reading with a song each. John does
"New Orleans is Sinking" as an open-tuning blues and found his own
unique way into "Courage." Steven does haunting versions of "38
Years Old" and "It's a Good Life."
At the end, I sincerely thank
everyone for being there and ask for the house lights to go up so I can take a
picture of the crowd: I ask everyone to say, “Medicine Hat!” This is perhaps
the best night on the Western leg.
I leave town after the show and drive
halfway to my next gig, staying overnight in Fernie, B.C. Seeing the Rockies
emerge from the darkness as I approach is truly magical. Listening to the Low
album Double Negative makes it extra spooky.
October 25: Canal Flats, B.C. / Golden, B.C., Golden Taps
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| Canal Flats, B.C. |
Driving through the Rockies, I stop
for lunch in Canal Flats. I do that thing where I bring a copy of the book and leave it on
my table, just in case anyone notices and wants to talk about it, or buy one. It
works.
“How's that book?” asks the waitress, whose 81-year-old aunt
started this diner 32 years ago. “It's great,” I say. “I wrote it.” “Really? I
must have watched that documentary five or six times. Cry my guts out every
time.” We chat a bit more. I order. She serves. “So can I find that in a store
in Cranbrook?” “I'll sell you one out of my trunk right now.” “Sold.” “Can I
take your picture?” “Nope, nope, nope. I don't do pictures!”
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| Somewhere near Radium, B.C. |
I then have a great chat with a couple who saw the Hip three
times, most memorably Another Roadside Attraction ’95 with Spirit of the West
and Ziggy Marley. They run a foresting company in Fernie and are taking six
months off to backpack across Nepal, India and Sri Lanka. They school me on the
history of the Columbia and Kootenay rivers.
Always talk to strangers.
I stop at the Radium Hot Springs—because it’s there. But it’s
really just a big outdoor pool. Not that thrilling. The nearby forest and drive
and vistas nearby, however, are stunning.
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| Tanya Hobbs |
In Golden I’m staying with an old pal, Tanya Hobbs. We played a lot of music together in Guelph in the
'90s: she in Corduroy Leda, me in Black Cabbage. There were many other
adventures as well. She now lives on a mountainside just outside Golden, with
her husband, stepson, some chickens and a pig. I haven’t seen her in years. We
have a lot of catching up to do.
The gig is at a local pub, and once
again I find myself orating to a tiny group of people interested and a lot of
people who are not—including a table right in front of the stage. At least I
have a microphone here, unlike in Saint John. This gig is not great, although I
do sell a couple of books—including one to someone at the talkative table. I
don’t really care. I’m mainly here to see Tanya, who has booked me to speak to
her high school English classes tomorrow.
October 26:
Golden, B.C. / Calgary
 |
| High school is in session |
I haven’t been back to high school
since I left it. I have no idea what to expect here. Tanya’s classes are doing
a creative writing unit, focusing specifically on biography. I’m here to help
them do that. I do an extremely abbreviated reading, eliminating everything
that no one under 30 would get. I then talk about my work and my career. The
students have questions that range from the token to the rather penetrating: “How do you know
everything in your book is true?”
The students’ assignment is to
profile a Canadian musical artist. They claim they don’t know many. Drake,
obviously. Avril Lavigne's intergenerational
reach is wider than I thought. And in this part of the world, Dean Brody is
much bigger than Justin Bieber or Alessia Cara. Best comment: "Why
does Michael Bublé only appear at Christmas?"
 |
| The (former) Golden Rim Motor Inn |
After
classes, I hit the road. On the way out of town I take a selfie at a Days Inn
that used to be known as the Golden Rim Motor Inn, immortalized in the Hip song
“Luxury,” from Road Apples. This
is where the band was stranded when their tour bus's transmission broke down
outside Golden. Everyone in town made sure I knew this story. Essential local
lore.
The drive through the Rockies back to
Calgary is overcast and misty. My soundtrack includes Basia Bulat’s Good Advice,
Jeremy Dutcher’s record, Jordan Klassen’s Javelin, a k.d. lang
collection that includes “The Valley” and “Barefoot Through the Snow,” and Emmylou
Harris’s Wrecking Ball. I stop at the Banff Cultural Centre for dinner.
I’m intrigued by this place, but don’t have much time to check it out. It’s
dark by the time I leave. Driving out of the Rockies toward Calgary, the most
enormous harvest moon I’ve ever seen is rising in the east over the Prairies.
It’s majestic and awe-inspiring.
October 27: Calgary, National Music Center / Vancouver
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| Rik Emmett's camel toe |
I
wake up at Patrick Finn’s again. We head to the NMC and spend more time taking
in the regular exhibits. They have a lot of crazy things here: Walter Ostanek’s
accordion, k.d. lang’s Juno-acceptance wedding gown, Nash the Slash’s violin,
Rik Emmett’s camel-toe onesie.
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| k.d. lang's Juno wedding dress |
I
also remember that I actually wrote a bunch of the display copy; years ago,
before this place opened, I was part of a group of writers tasked with writing
blurbs for various artists. I totally forgot that I’d written about Arcade
Fire, Sarah McLachlan, Bob Rock and others. I do remember that I had to write
about Roch Voisine, and my editor asked me to punch up the short bio with more interesting things
to say about his music—an impossible task.
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| Patrick Finn |
My
event is in a large, atrium-like space. Lots of room. No one to fill it:
there’s maybe a dozen people here, despite the high profile of the venue’s programming,
and a large, lovely feature in the Calgary Herald by Eric Volmers. So that’s
disappointing. But Finn, of course, is a great interviewer. There are tons of
tangents we could go into, but we try and keep it relatively straight and
narrow.
In
the adjacent café over lunch with Luka Symons, I meet Pat Steward of the Odds,
who notices my book and comes over to ask about it. He’s with a guitarist who
used to be married to Sass Jordan (and looks remarkably like her, which is
weird) and the two of them are playing some corporate cover gig across the
street at the King Eddy. We have a nice chat. Canada: a small country.
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| Greg Lettau |
I
then hop on a plane to Vancouver. Once in the Calgary airport, I realize I left
my passport in the rental car. Whoops. Good thing I’m staying in Canadian
skies. In Vancouver, I’m met by one of my oldest childhood friends, Greg
Lettau; our parents met at university. We had a lot of ridiculous teenage
adventures together. He takes me out drinking, which I’ve been avoiding on tour
but make an exception for time spent with this guy. I’ve barely seen him in the
last 25 years, so this feels good.
Staying
with another old Guelph friend, Tawny Darbyshire, with whom I stayed on my
first professional trip out here to work for the CBC in 1998. The pace of this
tour is finally starting to get to me, but the social times are the best.
October 28: Vancouver, The Heatley
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| The Mighty Anicka Quin |
Brunch with Anicka Quin, editor of Western Living and
Vancouver Magazine, old friend from Guelph, ex-girlfriend, former co-worker at
Id Magazine. She’s lived out west for almost 20 years now; much like Greg
Lettau, I’ve only seen her a handful of times since, and only fleeting. So
moments like this are to be cherished.
I didn’t know what to expect from Vancouver. None of my
friends here are Hip fans. I didn’t know where exactly to hold the event. The
lovely folks at Red Cat Records offered to help, but figured a standing-room
only event works for music but not for a book talk. CBC Radio host Grant
Lawrence suggested the Heatley.
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| Grant Lawrence |
Almost 20 years ago I wanted to be on Grant’s Radio Escapade
show so badly that I flew out to Van on my own dime and he gave me eight hours
of national overnight radio. After setting me up at the board, he said, “You're
okay here, right? I'm going to head back upstairs.” There I was, making
national radio on a board that belonged on the deck of the Starship Enterprise,
alone, entrusted that whatever I did would be great. Grant's support and even
his endless teases and taunts have meant the world to me over the years. It was
an honour to lend a small hand with the manuscript of his first book, Adventuresin Solitude, and to see his success as a writer as well as a more
mainstream broadcaster, breaking out of the indie rock ghetto we were both in
back then.
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| Rob Baker... I mean, Joe Foley of the Hip Show |
The crowd here is small, which is disappointing for one of
Canada’s four major cities—but not surprising, really, after Calgary. There was
no press or radio in advance, and there were no posters in the venue, which
meant anyone there found out about it through the FB page I set up for the
book. Other than my friends, the crowd also includes Joe Foley, of Hip tribute
band the Hip Show, and Yaron Butterfield, who I mention in the book as someone
who has lived with glioblastoma for a whopping 14 years—which is practically
unheard of for such a brutal and swift disease. It’s an honour to meet him.
Because he’s such a huge Hip fan, he was thrilled to be mentioned in the book.
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| Yaron Butterfield |
Grant has had a successful side career lately, promoting his
books by hosting ticketed evenings of “stories and songs,” featuring another
writer and two musical guests. He started doing this after too many gigs
resembling my current tour. Now he gets good crowds all over the western
provinces, everyone gets paid, including him, and it’s turned into a thing. I
have a lot to learn.
Grant does a great interview of course, informed by our
long-standing tradition of roasting each other in public. He tries to bait me
on several points, including the long-standing assumption that the Hip were
really only ever popular in Ontario, and that 54.40 and Spirit of the West were
a much bigger deal here. (Is that true? Neither ever filled hockey arenas in
Vancouver or anywhere in the country, to my knowledge.) We then conduct a straw
poll in the crowd: How many people here are originally from Ontario?
Almost everyone puts up their hand. Grant: you win.
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| Tawny Darbyshire |
Photographer and fellow Polaris Prize juror Christine McAvoy invites
us out to Save on Meats, a Gastown diner recently reinvented as a socially
progressive enterprise. Tonight, it’s a venue: Her favourite Vancouver band,
Said the Whale, is having an album launch there. Grant is a big fan, but he’s
solo parenting this week and has to head home. Others bow out as well. I head
there with Greg Lettau and a friend of his, but we don’t last long. The music
is not our bag. But what do we know? We’re from Ontario.
October 29: Edmonton, the Almanac on Whyte
I’m here to meet a man named Fish.
 |
| Fish Griwkowsky |
Fish Griwkowsky has been one of the smartest and most
entertaining music critics in this country for years, and so of course I asked
him to host my event. I didn’t peg him as a Hip fan until I read his review for
the Edmonton Journal of the 2016 tour stop, which was the most moving piece I
read about the entire tour. Our musical guest is Joe Nolan, who, I only found
out recently, also started a Hip cover band after Downie’s diagnosis, much as
Dennis Ellsworth did out east.
I’m staying with another Guelph friend, Michael Hunter, who
played in several bands around the same time I did. He married an Edmonton
woman and moved here many years ago. Keep in touch with your university pals,
folks: it pays off years later.
The crowd here is, again, tragically small. Other than Michael
and his friend, and a table of Fish’s friends, there are only six other people
here. And only two of them—my friends—are from Ontario. Apparently we’re
competing with a popular monthly tribute night across the street, featuring
many local players; this month they’re all covering… Limp Bizkit?!
Too bad, coz Fish is a great interviewer, and tells the story
of where he was watching the final show: he was outside a powwow, listening to
a radio signal that kept fading out until he finally lost it; he then listened
through his smartphone, and the battery died right after the last song.
Joe Nolan does absolutely stunning versions of “Bobcaygeon,”
“Nautical Disaster,” “So Hard Done By” and “Escape is at Hand”—the latter half
are two of my favourites that I rarely see anyone do.
October 30: Saskatoon, McNally Robinson
The Paris of the Prairies! I no idea what to expect here. I
know nobody in this town. It’s one of the two cities I booked a hotel room: in
this case, I chose the 110-year-old Hotel Senator, where, indeed, the elevator
and certain fixtures appear to be originals.
At the airport, shortly after landing, I do a phone hit with
a local talk radio station. He asks me specifically about the Hip’s
relationship with Saskatoon, and if it’s true they boycotted the city for a
long time. I don’t claim to know the fine details of the Hip’s tour schedules,
but I know exactly what he’s alluding to. “Didn’t it have something to do with
law enforcement?” asks the host, cagily.
During my research, I heard an off-the-record story about the
band once being busted for drugs here, and one of their staff taking the fall
for it. I can’t confirm that, of course, which is why I don’t mention it in the
book—although I do refer to it cryptically, so that those who know will know
that I know. If you know what I mean. Which this radio host does, and we have a
very amusing on-air dance around the topic—which I’m sure confused most
listeners.
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| My name in lights |
The event is at McNally Robinson, a large independent
bookstore (I believe it’s the biggest indie in Canada, in terms of floor space)
located in a mall on the other side of the river from downtown. Things look
promising: after I get off a public transit bus, I see my name in lights. Quite
literally: my headshot is digitized on a large billboard in the parking lot, on
a scroll with other mall happenings. I take a pic and send it to my friend and
Maclean’s photo editor Liz Sullivan, who took my headshot.
Turns out I didn’t need a big space at all. Only four people
show up: Nisha, Eric, Steve, and Steve’s lady whose name I didn’t catch. But
they’re the best four people. They’ve all read the book already and have
effusive praise. I’m not going to sell any copies here, but the flattery is
certainly nice.
 |
| Stephanie McKay |
At their request, I go ahead with my formal reading and
Q&A with Stephanie McKay, a former Polaris juror and arts writer at the
Saskatoon Star-Phoenix. (She’s now head of comms at a major local art gallery.)
She’s wonderful and game and pretty quickly the whole thing turns into an
informal chat with everyone in the room. Eric is a superfan who loves Coke
Machine Glow, and asks me about Downie’s potential inheritors, which
prompts a discussion of Joel Plaskett, Kathleen Edwards, John K. Samson, etc. Nisha
was born in 1982 and got into the band through her older brothers—one of whom
worships the band and has so far refused to read my book. Steve read my book
just before he was released from prison this summer, and found it emotionally
difficult to read. This kind of night has become a theme on this tour: yeah,
maybe there’s only a handful of people here, but they’re the best people.
The gig ends early. Stephanie drives me back to the hotel.
What does one do in Saskatoon on a Wednesday night? Not much, apparently. I go
to the downtown cinema and see A Star is Born. It’s fine. Lady Gaga is fantastic,
especially the parking lot scene, but the rest of the movie is merely a
pleasant distraction that I’m only enjoying because I’m on tour. I’ve seen
episodes of Nashville that are better than this.
October 31: Saskatoon / Regina, the Artesian on 13th
 |
| WTF am I doing up at this hour?! |
I rise bright and early to do a spot on CTV Saskatoon; I have
to be there by 6.30 a.m. The studio is close to the hotel. I get there and the
producer is literally dressed like the Mad Hatter. Oh right, it’s Hallowe’en!
Still, a weird sight before dawn.
I’m taking an inter-city bus to Regina; it’s actually more of
a Red Car-type service, as Greyhound is about to abandon its Western routes.
The office appears to be within walking distance of downtown. It’s—well, it’s
not, really. I break my suitcase’s wheels dragging it—weighed down by books I
have yet to sell—through an industrial park on a northern edge of town, rushing
to catch the bus in time. Why am I doing this? Why am I doing any of this?
But I’m en route to the second-last gig of this tour and my
hubris is in full effect. On the bus I listen to Joni’s Hejira and the
latest record by locals Kacy & Clayton.
It’s Hallowe’en! What kind of writer holds a book event on
Hallowe’en, in a town where he knows no one and hasn’t visited since his first
time there 23 years ago? This guy, that’s who.
Most of my options for a Regina gig either didn’t want to do
a Hallowe’en gig or presented alternate dates that didn’t fit with my schedule.
(Although, in retrospect, seeing how I’m hopping planes for most of this leg, I
have no idea why I felt compelled to maintain a straight west-east trajectory
as if I was driving.) The one option open was this converted church. The catch?
I’d have to rent it.
 |
| Darlene Barss |
OK, so if I have to rent a venue, I should charge admission.
And if I’m going to charge admission, I should have a band. I don’t know any
musicians from Regina, other than Andy Shauf, who a) is too big and b) doesn’t
live here anymore, and Rah Rah, who broke up a while back. I did a lot of
research and reached out to fellow Polaris juror Darlene Barss, who gave me
plenty of great suggestions. Everyone was either busy or didn’t respond, except
for Dustin Ritter. The rootsy singer-songwriter was immediately up for it.
Turns out he and his band do a monthly live karaoke night, and they’ve had to
learn their share of Hip songs over the years. I place all my trust in him; he
assembles a band and a cast of guest singers from the local scene. I’m
basically asking him to do for me in Regina what I did at the Horseshoe in
Toronto.
I’m staying with Chris Macenz, who is the cousin of my
next-door neighbour in Toronto. She picks me up from the bus station, and
shuttles me to a CBC Radio interview. The kindness of strangers continues to
amaze me.
I’d arranged to have books shipped here from Toronto, on the
ridiculous assumption that I’d have already sold out of the ones I’d had
shipped to Calgary and Vancouver. (I already shipped a box back from Vancouver,
at my own expense.) They didn’t arrive. Will I have enough books to sell
tonight? Turns out that won’t be a problem. At all.
I arrive at the beautiful venue as the band is still
arriving. The soundcheck sounds great. I take the core band out for dinner.
Guitarist Travis Rennebohm tells me he saw the Hip 13 times; a good friend of
his saw them 30 times. He once met a guy who say the Hip a whopping 250 times;
he had earned his “250-mission cap,” the guy boasted.
 |
| The best sausage party in Regina |
Back at the venue, I work the door when I’m not on stage.
Darlene is doing the interview; she’s super nervous. Though she’s on the Polaris
jury, she’s neither a journalist or a broadcaster; she’s an enthusiast, a
serious listener and a blogger who started in the CBC Radio 3 fan community.
But she’s not used to interviewing on stage, and I try my best to make her
comfortable. She does just fine.
The band is wonderful and gives it their all. The singers all
do a great job.
Here’s how it broke down:
Travis Rennebohm of Tiger Charmer: Bobcaygeon, Wheat Kings,
Long Time Running, Lake Fever
Christopher “Tiny” Matchett: Scared
Tim Rogers: Blow at High Dough
Ethan Bender of Tiger Charmer: Three Pistols, Fireworks
Tyler Gilbert: Poets
Dustin Ritter: Something On, Boots or Hearts, Ahead by a
Century
Bryce Van Loosen: Little Bones, Courage
Marshall Burns of Rah Rah: Escape is at Hand, Grace Too
Bryce introduces his songs by saying, “The Hip made us simple
farm boys believe we could be smart and dig poetry.” Amen. Mission
accomplished.
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| Marshall Ward (Rah Rah) with Dustin Ritter (Jaws shirt) et al |
At the end of the night I meet the singer known as Belle
Plaine, and her husband Blake Berglund; both are local lights of the country
scene, she more traditional and he more modern. I’m not familiar with either of
their music, though when I get home I fall in love with her latest release.
This town is full of great talent; I feel like a completely ignorant Toronto ass—which
I am.
The gig ends up pulling out 30 people. It’s enough for me to
cover the rental. I’m definitely losing money on this tour, but I give Dustin a
few C notes from my own pocket to pass out to the core band to thank them for
their hard work. I have no idea why I tried to pull this off. But, you know,
YOLO and all that.
November 1: Winnipeg, Good Will Social Club
I woke up in Regina to see that Ben
MacPhee-Sigurdson’s lovely piece for the Winnipeg Free Press is in today’s
paper. Lesson learned from this tour: whether or not anyone shows up to the
gig, you’ll get way more media just by showing up in town than by staying home.
Something to remember later tonight.
 |
| Keeping it Riel |
I’ve never been to Winnipeg. On that
one western tour I did in 1995, we didn’t have a gig here and drove straight
through it, both ways. Of all the major cities in Canada, I probably have more
friends who grew up here than from anywhere else. That includes Julie Penner,
violinist to the stars and radio producer, who relocated back to her hometown
shortly after having her first kid. I’m staying with her tonight; I won’t see
her husband, ex-Weakerthan Jason Tait, who is out on tour with Bahamas. She’s
working during the day, so I set out to see what I can of the town on my own.
Downtown is what it is: former Eaton’s building, Portage and Main. I head to
the Forks; it’s impressive. I stroll past the iconic legislature building, and
the Louis Riel statue. Wish I had more time to take in the Human Rights Museum.
The gig is at the Good Will Social
Club, which is co-run by Cam Loeppky, a well-travelled sound engineer. I asked
my dear friend Jill Wilson, of the Free Press, to be the interviewer. Like
Regina, I tried to get some live music at this thing, but everyone I contacted
was busy and/or out of town. The club booked Liam Duncan, a young guy who until
recently fronted a band called the Middle Coast. He’s 22 years old, which means
“Ahead by a Century” was on the charts the year he was born. His parents always
had the Hip in their truck’s tapedeck in Brandon; he thought “Wheat Kings” was
about a local hockey team.
 |
| Jill Wilson at Good Will Social Club. Photo by Julie Penner. |
Uh, really? I should know better
than to engage, but I do anyway. “Well, there will be an election next year,” I
say, “so if you’re looking for change, that will be the time.”
“Nah, the system is rigged. There is
no possibility of democratic change.”
“Why is that?” I ask. He pauses,
smiles, clearly delighted that someone has asked, and then launches into a rant
about the Rothschilds (here we go…) and how Russia is not the villain and how
the U.S. is the real terrorist and how NATO expansion was a blatant act of
aggression. I’m not the least bit surprised that someone who buys into Putin
propaganda is also susceptible to anti-Jewish banking conspiracies.
“You’re telling me Russia is a
paragon of virtue? You think you’d be more free under Putin?” I ask, against my
better judgment.
“No,” he responds, “but at least
they’re honest about it.” He wishes me luck with the book, and leaves.
Too bad. I could have used the
audience.
 |
| Jill Wilson and John Kendle |
Julie is there, and legendary local
rock critic John Kendle, who I’m excited to finally meet. Two others are
friends of Jill’s. But when the gig starts, there are only three other people
there: two women who were mostly silent, and a guy named Ryan who heard about
the gig on the Hipbase message board. Again, I ask if we should just can the
formalities and sit around a table, or if we should do the reading and Q&A
as scheduled. Everyone wants the real deal.
Which is good, because Jill is
predictably excellent. She challenges the notion that Secret Path was
particularly revelatory to non-Indigenous audiences; she points out that the
history of residential schools has been part of Manitoban curricula for a long
time. Which makes sense to me: Indigenous issues are impossible to ignore here,
and in much of the western centres; compare that to southern Ontario, where I’d
argue Indigenous communities are largely invisible (with the exception of
Brantford and Peterborough).
 |
| The last photo of my trip, with these beauties |
After the official talk, we all sit
around over pints and John Kendle tells stories. He has quite a few. At least one
of them I can’t tell you. Some I can.
Kendle is the same age as the
members of the Hip. He wrote about them on their first western tour, where he
helped rally the town around them after they got fired by a local promoter for
being “too weird.” They always stayed in touch, and Kendle would always be at
the Winnipeg after-parties. In 1994 he pitched Rolling Stone on a story about
the “Land” single benefiting Clayoquot Sound protesters; he talked to the Hip,
Lanois and Midnight Oil. The mag spiked it and paid him a kill fee. Jake Gold
was angry that the story wasn’t going to be just about the Hip.
In 2016, Downie—who did very little
talking at any of those final shows—took time to acknowledge Kendle from the stage at the Winnipeg show. The writer went to the Fairmount after, because he
knew that’s where the after-party would be. The Hip’s longtime security guy
Ricky Wellington was working the door. Gord Sinclair saw Kendle and waved him
in, telling Wellington that Kendle was welcome anywhere. Sinclair warned Kendle
that Downie was not good with names lately, due to what he simply referred to
as “the injury,” but remembered faces. Downie eventually surfaced at the party.
Kendle introduced himself. Downie looked him in the eyes and told him he loved
him.
Our entire table is weeping when
John tells this story.
Julie and the three strangers
eventually head home, leaving John, Jill and I to close the bar. I am drunk,
for only the second time on this tour. I am standing outside the club on a
chilly Winnipeg street with two of the smartest, loveliest, most passionate
music lovers in the country, and was headed back to the house of another one.
Tomorrow night, I will be in my own bed.
 |
| The Forks and the road |
I feel incredibly blessed. I’ve
learned so much: about this country, this music, about myself. I’ve met
beautiful strangers and reconnected with dear old friends. Writing can be a
lonely pursuit, if you let it. This book has been anything but.
FINAL NOTE: Most photos here are by me or someone standing next to me. I have some great video that I hope to have ready by the book's third anniversary. Apologies for any/all copy editing mistakes, especially when I stray in and out of never-ending present tense.
Next: Encores
Also in this series: Spring; Summer; East Coast
