The Tragically Hip: No Dress Rehearsal

Hip! Hip! Hip!

The Tragically Hip were more than a rock 'n roll band.

Right from the beginning, to those final moments on the stage,

there was something magic there.

Ireland will have U2. The UK will have the Beatles.

In Canada, we'll have The Tragically Hip.

I remember watching them going, "Holy fuck!

These guys are from Canada and they're so good."

Having the biggest band in the country

singing songs and telling stories about us,

giving a soundtrack to this beautiful, powerful, important country.

They were just doing what they were inspired by.

I mean, was there ever a more authentic Canadian artist?

They had the audience in the palm of their hand.

And who is this weird guy spewing poetry in front?

Gord Downie had the poetry and lyricism of a brilliant, brilliant writer,

and he was the perfect frontman for this powerhouse all-Canadian band.

So many bands come along and last four months,

six months, a year. We all plan on doing it for a long time, together.

Thank you. Thank you. Good night.

We have some very tough news.

Gord Downie has been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.

It was remarkable to see an entire country

glued to this farewell performance.

Today The Nation mourns the death of Gord Downie.

He died at the age of 53.

I just heard that morning

and I knew it was coming, but I didn't want to think about it coming.

The legacy is the most unique, crazy, wonderful, tragic

and artistic, loving story that'll ever be told in rock 'n' roll in this country.

And now without further ado:

Gord Sinclair,

Gord Downie, Johnny Fay,

Robbie Baker and Paul Langlois.

Paul are you ready to get started?

I'm ready.

Gordon Downie, The Tragically Hip. Good.

Thank you, tape number K.

When I was 16, I mean, I wanted to be in a band,

and I wanted to tour around, you know. I wanted to come to Florida.

Well, maybe not Florida, but I wanted to come, you know, and tour.

Then, when you get, you know, you're 18

you just keep readjusting how you actually thought it would turn out.

I had no idea you know what it, what it entails, what it means.

You know, it's a real carrot-on-a-stick kind of business.

And at the same time, it's what you always...

you have to keep reminding yourself it's what you always wanted to do.

We spend a lot of time in here.

The van is a fact of life with touring.

First thing we did was get a good stereo.

Every new trip, you know, guys make different compilations

and see who can make the better ones. And...

If any of us were in another band, I don't think we'd be able to do it

because we wouldn't be in another band with our friends.

We'd be kinda with guys we work with.

Makes it more special that we know each other really well.

So, a really good gig becomes even better, and a really bad one isn't quite as bad

because, you know, at least there were four other guys

looking at the floor with you.

This sort of era set the template

for what we did our entire career.

It was kind of always about the next gig,

and having the chance to actually have a next gig.

And then, that kind of morphed into the chance to make another record.

It was the time of our lives, we had a riot, you know.

It was a bonding experience, getting in a van

and driving with the gear. You always know whatever you go through

with these guys you know, you can always rely on them,

and that's true friendship.

I feel real secure in the knowledge

that the band will never physically break up.

The only conflicts we ever have are like any conflict

you'd have with your best friend.

They're stupid things, like the guy's feet smell on a particular day.

Relaxation is the key. This morning we had a few sets of tennis,

bit o' Goonie golf, followed by a massage,

and maybe a nice low-carbohydrate meal.

I dunno. Fuck, I'm playing golf.

It's a good time. You just feel like

you're out collecting ideas and experiences, which become songs.

This is what we set out to do. No one can take it away from us. We've made it.

We were making records, and we were playing killer live shows

all over North America and Europe. And we just thought,

"Yeah, this is exactly what we wanted."

We were tight friends, firing on all cylinders.

And just really, truly were having the time of our lives.

A tour like this is like a huge reward.

It's one of those things you probably are more likely

to put up on your memories trophies shelf.

- -Whoa!

So, we enjoy it. We revel in it.

Happy Birthday, bro.

Just in the ability to have this experience,

you know, this once in a lifetime thing.

Are these the kind of guys you'd hang around with

even if they weren't in a band with you?

I'm sure I would. We see each other now when we get off the road,

and we know each other, you know?

We're in a bar in Kingston, and it's like... and we get together.

We don't avoid each other, and we have fun.

We have more fun off the road than on the road, I think.

- Are you rolling, Steve? - Yep.

Have you heard about the Tragically Hip?

-Yeah! -Yeah!

- Tell us a bit about 'em. -They're the best!

- Where they from? -Kingston.

- -Gotta go.

And here's the city of Kingston,

the oldest settlement in Upper Canada.

Everywhere we go, we say we're from Kingston,

and we, you know, we praise its, its Kingston-ness.

Today, Kingston's inventory of institutions

includes federal prisons, the Royal Military College,

and its noted university, Queen's.

I always found Kingston had a very rigid dividing line

between wealth and knowledge,

and poverty and survival.

So, you do get both cultures running through your veins.

Growing up in Kingston, there's something about

that little working-class, sort of, town that is The Hip.

They got to just hone their thing

in this little, unique, but sort of, obvious Canadian city.

I think that so much of The Tragically Hip story was Kingston.

The band isn't the band without Kingston, Ontario.

"Oh, Kingston. That's down the 401 between Montreal and Toronto."

No. Kingston is the town that built The Hip.

In terms of history of the band, how did it start?

We all went to the same high school,

and it was sort of like a solar eclipse.

Johnny was in grade 9, Robbie and Gord were in 13,

and Paul and I were both in grade 11.

I have thought about this place a lot, KCVI.

The high school years are really important for everyone, on some level.

KCVI has been part of our connective tissue.

I think that that really kinda was our real, initial bond.

I'd skipped a grade in elementary school, and I was a November kid,

so I was green behind the ears, trying to keep my head down

and not get beat up.

I loved the parties, and I played sports.

I was a decent student until the dope got the better of that.

But I was pretty good for a while.

First day of grade 11, probably the first period,

there's a new kid sittin' beside me, and it was Gord. Gord Downie.

I remember just kind of seeing him around the hallways,

and he always had a book tucked under his arm,

and the other arm, he had a cheerleader.

He definitely had drive and passion.

He was such a reader, so into music, so into poetry.

There was just something so engaging about Gord.

He surprised me by saying, "I know you." I'm like, "You, you know me?"

"Yeah, you broke into a store." I'm like, "What?"

"Well, such and such has been blabbin' about it all over Amherstview."

I'm like, "Seriously?"

It was a drunken break and enter that was my friend's fault.

But if it hadn't have happened,

I wouldn't have met Gord and clicked with him immediately.

We moved to our house on Churchill Crescent,

which is right across from Rob's Mom and Dad, in 1966.

Gord moved in across the street from me

when he was about one and a half. I think I was three.