Rochester Democrat and Chronicle
Two decades in, and still Hip
Jeff Spevak
Staff music critic
(March 8, 2007) — The Tragically Hip may be as good as it has ever been. More, even, if you subscribe to the theory that experience trumps youth. As Canadians, the Hip have probably seen this scenario unfold time and again in the National Hockey League playoffs.
But this great rock band, which plays today (March 8) at the Harro East Ballroom, knows that time is also the enemy when you dare to walk onstage with a guitar in hand and a rock audience at your feet.
"The record when they were 18 can never be surpassed in their lives," guitarist Rob Baker says. "I'm the same way. The Rolling Stones will never make another Exile on Main Street. It's not that they can't make records anymore, that they can't play guitar anymore. But when I was 15 years old, and I bought that record, it rocked my world."
This is the inevitability faced by the Hip. U2, which has invented and re-invented itself at least three times, is a rare exception. The road to pop-culture success has paved over thousands of Three Doors Down. Very often sooner, or later, a rock band's time drifts away.
But the history of the Hip, like U2, is unlike most rock bands. It is vastly popular, particularly in Canada and pockets of the American Midwest. Yet it has maintained an underground coolness, perhaps because it has never really broken big in the United States. From its start in the late '80s, the Tragically Hip had everything that R.E.M. offered at the same time. Huge, dynamic, complex songs. An adoring fan base. And a frenetic, enigmatic front man, Gordon Downie, who you can't take your eyes off of.
So, why not the Tragically Hip?
"Mistakes were made; we had a manager who rubbed people the wrong way," Baker says. "There were press releases describing how we were huge in Canada, and how we had to check into hotels under assumed names. I know, as a music fan, if I read that kind of hype, I wouldn't want to be on that bandwagon. Everyone wants to get in on the ground floor of their own bands.
"Plus, every country nurtures its own. You look at the British charts sometimes, and you say, 'Who are these people?'"
Yet, by many standards, the Hip are a success here.
"When we tour the States, most nights we play to 1,000, 2,000 people," Baker says. "Any band that can play to 2,000 people a night, that's a good career. Ninety-nine percent of the bands out there would kill for that. What we have built in America, we came about honestly. Without a lot of national press, without a hit record."
And actually, without an Exile on Main Street. The Hip built its reputation on its stunning live shows. "I would agree with that," Baker says. "You do the best you can, but the studio isn't live. You're either a studio band or a live band. I can't think of many who did both. And the bands we emulated were live bands."
Bands that released plenty of records, but whose sound sprang from the raw side. "The early Stones, Yardbirds, that kind of a vibe," Baker says. "The Animals, the Pretty Things, the early English R&B things."
The Hip is so intent on remaining relevant that it resisted the call for a retrospective, a box set, of its work. "We were fighting that 12 or 15 years," Baker says. "It's taking time out from the journey, and the journey is a forward journey. You don't want to stand there, stopped, looking over your shoulder."
But when the band finally caved, in 2005, and looked back at its two decades of work, it learned one thing about itself: "It was time to make a really good record."
World Container, their latest, may be that. It is all that the best Hip has always been: loud, rocking, introspective, obtuse. But what standards should we use to judge a great record?
"I just bought the new Vince Gill record, the four-CD set," Baker says. "I love it. Vince Gill, he is the complete package. And the new Tom Waits record. It's so sprawling, all over the map. Eclectic and very real, in an age that doesn't put a lot of value on things that are real and timeless."
Has the Hip created its timeless piece yet?
"Certain songs, I think: 'It's clever,'" Baker says. "The ones that are timeless are the ones that get hit by lightning. You can spend two years writing one song, 20 minutes another. 'Long Time Running,' off the Road Apples album, aside from the lyrics, musically it didn't have to be written. It just had to be felt. You pull 'em in like a radio station. Others, you impose your will on. Those great songs, we pulled out of the ether."