The Tragically Hip played what was likely their final concert ever last night. In front of a sold-out crowd at the K-Rock Centre in the band's hometown of Kingston, Ontario, and also witnessed by a national television audience watching a commercial-free broadcast on the CBC.
I gave up luxury box/corporate suite seats at the Lansing Lugnuts baseball game in order to stay home and watch the concert--alone in my living room with only two cats and a dog for company (my wife and my two sons went to the ballgame). There you have it, the life of an American Hip fan.
I know I've probably been driving my Facebook friends crazy over the last several days with all my Hip-related posts. But this has simply been "the Summer of the Hip" for me, ever since that terrible morning in late May when the world received the news about Gord Downie's cancer diagnosis.
A month after that, I bought the Hip's new album Man Machine Poem and have watched the band's tour unfold from afar. My attempt to obtain tickets for the London (Ont.) show were immediately obliterated, both in the pre-sale and when tickets went on sale to the general public. I underestimated demand, and the stealth of the "bots" that also scooped up tickets. I eventually resigned myself to sitting this tour out--and considered it as primarily an event for Canadians to celebrate their band. Meanwhile, I've followed the shows on Periscope and through first-hand reports on the Tragically Hip Facebook Fan Forum. Along with all other Hip fans, I've marveled at Gord's flamboyant stage attire and his utter defiance in the face of mortality.
So if January of 2016 brought on "the Winter of Bowie," and the shocking April death of His Purple Highness ushered in "the Spring of Prince," "the Summer of Gord" commenced on May 24. Of course, the major difference is that Gord Downie is still very much with us. He is beautifully, defiantly, gracefully still with us; wearing his shiny metallic leather suits, designed so brilliantly by Toronto's Izzy Camilleri. Gord is staring down cancer and has given every fiber of his being into his performances. Oh sure, he may not be as physical and free-wheeling as in the past, but considering what he is enduring, he has been a dynamo. It is truly remarkable that Gord has been able to perform so brilliantly on this tour.
Last night was no exception. Gord and the band brought it strong in a show that lasted almost three hours with three encores; including a raw display of emotion by Gord at the end of "Grace, Too" in which he unleashed several cathartic screams near the end of the song. And in what is a rarity for Gord Downie, he made a pointed political plea--directed towards Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who was in attendance--demanding attention be paid and help given to the depressed First Nations people in northern Canada. (Thank you, Gord, for educating me on the troubles and struggles of the First Nations people).
I always knew that the Hip were big in Canada (duh), but even I have been overwhelmed by how much love and adoration has been showered on the Hip by Canadians. As some have already stated, the Hip are so adored by Canadians perhaps primarily because the band never broke big in the United States or elsewhere. Add to that the fact that the Hip pepper their songs with Canadian cultural references, and their countrymen have fully, completely embraced them and become protective of them.
When the concert ended just shy of 11:30 PM, I simply felt dumb. I didn't weep--though there were some misty moments throughout the concert--I just turned the TV off and sat on the couch for several minutes, blankly staring and attempting to absorb it...and I'm still trying to process it.
I can honestly say that I can't imagine my life without the Tragically Hip, much like I can't fathom life without my kids. (In fact, it's sometimes hard to imagine that I once had a life before my children entered the picture). Just as my kids have taught me such lessons as how not to be completely self-absorbed (just a little self-absorbed), along with the joys of grade school orchestra concerts,
chess club tournaments, Forza Horizon and GTA 5 on the Xbox; the Hip have taught me about Bobcaygeon, Tom Thomson, David Milgaard, Attawapiskat, Algonquin Park, and Bill Barilko. For that, I will be forever grateful.
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