07-18-2007, 01:15 AM
All-Canadian band rocks the Garage
Crowd drinks up classics, Downie's antics at Tragically Hip concert
Amy O'Brian, Vancouver Sun
Published: Saturday, July 14, 2007
THIS REVIEW FIRST RAN ONLINE FRIDAY AT <!-- w --><a class="postlink" href="http://WWW.VANCOUVERSUN.COM">WWW.VANCOUVERSUN.COM</a><!-- w -->
If it weren't for the massive roof over our heads, the Tragically Hip's Thursday night concert at GM Place would have been the perfect summer show.
The band's unique brand of Canadian rock has been a staple on the soundtracks of lakeside barbecues, summer road trips and late-night cottage parties for the better part of the past two decades. It's music that's best appreciated under an open sky -- preferably one of those uniquely pink or orange 10 p.m. northern sunsets.
So it somehow seemed wrong to be inside a stadium, listening to the Hip's summer anthems when the sun was still hanging low in the sky outside.
But the nearly sold-out crowd didn't seem to mind. And, if anything, the heat outside had worked them into a beer-swilling frenzy that had many of them double-fisting plastic cups of over-priced draught and swaying unsteadily in their seats by the time the Hip took the stage (which was suitably adorned with a summer sky backdrop).
Spontaneous cheers had been breaking out throughout the stadium for half an hour before Gord Downie and the band strode out at 8:45 p.m., greeted the crowd and began the set with The Lonely End of the Rink, off their latest album, World Container.
Downie undoubtedly said something cryptic and wonderfully confusing to open the show, but I didn't catch it because I had one of the band's younger fans yelling something in my face about having a great time. (The hot sour smell of a man who's had way too much beer, yelling in my face was intermittently distracting until he was eventually removed by security).
The audience politely welcomed the opening song, but their reactions to nearly all the band's new material was noticeably less enthusiastic throughout the show -- proving it's the classics off Road Apples, Fully Completely and Up to Here that still draw the crowds.
But while the fans love to sing along to the classics, another component of the Hip's magnetic draw is the astoundingly energetic show the band delivers -- or, more precisely, that Downie delivers.
The rest of the band -- Paul Langlois, Gord Sinclair, Rob Baker and Johnny Fay -- are unquestionably talented, but Downie's superbly eccentric, uninhibited antics and charades make up the entertainment portion of the show. The 43-year-old strode and mimed and leapt across the stage, while his boyishly expressive face was magnified on the giant screens above.
The audience's initially cool reception immediately warmed with the first notes of New Orleans is Sinking, which -- with four guitars going strong -- is one of the band's best bluesy rock numbers. Heads were bobbing strong and fists punched the air down on the crowded floor.
The slowed-down thoughtfulness and poetic lyrics to Ahead by a Century were beautiful and by the time the band reached Courage, their eighth song, everyone was singing along and Downie's pants were beginning to show the first of what would be a not-so-slow creep of unfortunate sweat patterns.
The band kept the pacing smooth with a deliberate spacing of new material among the older hits. The pared-down instrumentation and slow blues beat of 1991's Long Time Running was juxtaposed with In View, the fast-paced first single off World Container.
In the middle of At the Hundredth Meridian, Downie sat and rocked in the cradle of his mic stand, put a white handkerchief over his face and let the guitars maintain the energy. At other times he imitated an ape or went through the motions of treading water, reminding the thousands in the audience that if they ever end up at a charades party with Downie, they must fight to get on his team.
The crowd's energy hit a new level when the band blasted through three old favourites -- going from Bobcaygeon, to Fully Completely and then seamlessly launching into Blow at High Dough -- which had nearly everyone screaming, clapping, and stomping.
A large part of the success of the show was that Downie didn't always stick to the lyrics and the band often strayed into refreshing improvisations. Combined with his theatrics, it made for a truly engaging performance that could never be called predictable or dull.
Downie's oddities, combined with his poetic lyrics, might explain why the Hip have yet to break out in the States. His musical honesty and complete lack of inhibition might make some Americans very uncomfortable.
But on the other hand, if the Hip were to break out down south, I can't help but wonder if they might lose some of their fiercely patriotic Canadian fans -- the ones who like to think of the Hip as some kind of Canadian secret, the ones who could still be heard cheering "Hip, Hip, Hip" well after they'd left the stage.
<!-- e --><a href="mailto:aobrian@png.canwest.com">aobrian@png.canwest.com</a><!-- e -->
© The Vancouver Sun 2007
Crowd drinks up classics, Downie's antics at Tragically Hip concert
Amy O'Brian, Vancouver Sun
Published: Saturday, July 14, 2007
THIS REVIEW FIRST RAN ONLINE FRIDAY AT <!-- w --><a class="postlink" href="http://WWW.VANCOUVERSUN.COM">WWW.VANCOUVERSUN.COM</a><!-- w -->
If it weren't for the massive roof over our heads, the Tragically Hip's Thursday night concert at GM Place would have been the perfect summer show.
The band's unique brand of Canadian rock has been a staple on the soundtracks of lakeside barbecues, summer road trips and late-night cottage parties for the better part of the past two decades. It's music that's best appreciated under an open sky -- preferably one of those uniquely pink or orange 10 p.m. northern sunsets.
So it somehow seemed wrong to be inside a stadium, listening to the Hip's summer anthems when the sun was still hanging low in the sky outside.
But the nearly sold-out crowd didn't seem to mind. And, if anything, the heat outside had worked them into a beer-swilling frenzy that had many of them double-fisting plastic cups of over-priced draught and swaying unsteadily in their seats by the time the Hip took the stage (which was suitably adorned with a summer sky backdrop).
Spontaneous cheers had been breaking out throughout the stadium for half an hour before Gord Downie and the band strode out at 8:45 p.m., greeted the crowd and began the set with The Lonely End of the Rink, off their latest album, World Container.
Downie undoubtedly said something cryptic and wonderfully confusing to open the show, but I didn't catch it because I had one of the band's younger fans yelling something in my face about having a great time. (The hot sour smell of a man who's had way too much beer, yelling in my face was intermittently distracting until he was eventually removed by security).
The audience politely welcomed the opening song, but their reactions to nearly all the band's new material was noticeably less enthusiastic throughout the show -- proving it's the classics off Road Apples, Fully Completely and Up to Here that still draw the crowds.
But while the fans love to sing along to the classics, another component of the Hip's magnetic draw is the astoundingly energetic show the band delivers -- or, more precisely, that Downie delivers.
The rest of the band -- Paul Langlois, Gord Sinclair, Rob Baker and Johnny Fay -- are unquestionably talented, but Downie's superbly eccentric, uninhibited antics and charades make up the entertainment portion of the show. The 43-year-old strode and mimed and leapt across the stage, while his boyishly expressive face was magnified on the giant screens above.
The audience's initially cool reception immediately warmed with the first notes of New Orleans is Sinking, which -- with four guitars going strong -- is one of the band's best bluesy rock numbers. Heads were bobbing strong and fists punched the air down on the crowded floor.
The slowed-down thoughtfulness and poetic lyrics to Ahead by a Century were beautiful and by the time the band reached Courage, their eighth song, everyone was singing along and Downie's pants were beginning to show the first of what would be a not-so-slow creep of unfortunate sweat patterns.
The band kept the pacing smooth with a deliberate spacing of new material among the older hits. The pared-down instrumentation and slow blues beat of 1991's Long Time Running was juxtaposed with In View, the fast-paced first single off World Container.
In the middle of At the Hundredth Meridian, Downie sat and rocked in the cradle of his mic stand, put a white handkerchief over his face and let the guitars maintain the energy. At other times he imitated an ape or went through the motions of treading water, reminding the thousands in the audience that if they ever end up at a charades party with Downie, they must fight to get on his team.
The crowd's energy hit a new level when the band blasted through three old favourites -- going from Bobcaygeon, to Fully Completely and then seamlessly launching into Blow at High Dough -- which had nearly everyone screaming, clapping, and stomping.
A large part of the success of the show was that Downie didn't always stick to the lyrics and the band often strayed into refreshing improvisations. Combined with his theatrics, it made for a truly engaging performance that could never be called predictable or dull.
Downie's oddities, combined with his poetic lyrics, might explain why the Hip have yet to break out in the States. His musical honesty and complete lack of inhibition might make some Americans very uncomfortable.
But on the other hand, if the Hip were to break out down south, I can't help but wonder if they might lose some of their fiercely patriotic Canadian fans -- the ones who like to think of the Hip as some kind of Canadian secret, the ones who could still be heard cheering "Hip, Hip, Hip" well after they'd left the stage.
<!-- e --><a href="mailto:aobrian@png.canwest.com">aobrian@png.canwest.com</a><!-- e -->
© The Vancouver Sun 2007