I love The Hip. I don't think this point can be argued, or even overstated. If they were playing in San Francisco, would I book plane tickets to see them there? Of course I would, without a moment's hesitation. And that's exactly what I did. When I started this mojologue, I did so with the smug foreknowledge that being at the Hip concert would push my mojo status through the clouds, and that I could return home triumphantly.
And now, here comes the twist:
I never went to the concert.
The original plan was to hit a house party, shake a few hands, meet some contractual obligations, and then take my leave before the show started. But, woe of woes... it was a really great party. And thus, I arrived upon one of those grand questions in life... and the question I usually ask in such a case, "What would Gord Downie do?", seemed rather ill-suited to the situation.
Or was it? Naturally, I've been listening to their new album, "We Are The Same", while I've been walking these city streets. Some of their songs, like "Coffee Girl", became instant favourites, but most of them took some time... but once I started listening, the songs opened up for me. "The Depression Suite" is three minutes of ballad stretched over nine minutes of strings, but right in the middle, he sings a single line which cuts right to the heart of the matter:
And I think to myself in passing,
what if this song means nothing?
Now here comes the requisite strangeness --
things always have to get a little weird.
He wants this song to mean something. So do I. He doesn't mean, "What if this song doesn't become a hit?" It won't. He means, "I want this song to inspire people in some way." Well, for starters, this song got me into San Francisco in the first place. But more than that, yes -- not going to the concert is a little weird. But things have to be like that sometime.
And I've no regrets.
The other discovery I made while skipping the concert was this. It may sound like sour grapes, but bear with me: Seeing the concert, and being exposed to Hip mojo, would not have done much for my mojo status anyway. It's not what you receive... it's what you give. It's not a real goal to get your mojo to maximum capacity. That's the life I'd been living for the last few months. Good job, good friends, good life -- what part of that doesn't say my mojo was at 100%?
Nope. For mojo to have power... the mojo must flow. You must be aware of all the mojo around you, and try not to battle it, or surpass it, but simply to go with it. Not to be the shining star that blinds all others -- but simply to shine.
That is the secret of mojo. Thanks, Gord. Thanks, San Francisco.
mojo status: 75/500
Showing posts with label Tragically Hip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tragically Hip. Show all posts
24.9.07
The sun comes up on the flat Edmonton streets.
There's a certain etiquette to lifting lyrics: stealing from The Weakerthans is like sharing a dessert. Stealing from The Tragically Hip is like joining a celebration... but to steal from Leonard Cohen is a sort of blasphemy.
(Stealing from Rheostatics, on the other hand, is like trying to bite through a coconut, i.e., "Just stop already. At first it was funny, but now we're getting embarrassed just watching you.")
That's not to say people don't quote Leonard Cohen, but when they do, they make sure he gets full credit, and pay him the proper respects. The tribute concert on Saturday was no different -- there were five different singers featured, and with each one, you could see their face brighten up when they got to the part of the song with their favourite lyric. It was like watching a child finally escape the fairground lineup and climb up onto the roller coaster.
Better yet was when they messed up one of the lyrics, though -- then, their face pulled back into that horrified laughter you see when the camera catches the roller coaster at the start of a drop. Everybody knows that they're in trouble, but everybody knows what they're going through. After all, who'd want to be in their shoes, misquoting Leonard Cohen when they're trying to honour him?
It was a fantastic concert, though. The singers were captivating, the audience was supportive, the theatre was beautiful, and the arrangements were a fine blend of re-creation and recreation. Add the company of some wonderful friends, and a truly awe-inspiring spoken-word performance the previous night, and you have a perfect weekend for poetry.
The final cadence to the evening came when my friends and I left the theatre. The conversation turned to how often people would initially use Cohen's songs for a love ballad, only to be shocked when they finally realise what his lyrics are really saying. I tried to explain the phenomenon thusly:
"The thing is, even if it's not a song about true and eternal love, it still manages to stir up the same emotional triggers we associate with those emotions. He triggers the same effect through a different cause. It's kind of like when you're overcome with a sense of warmth and serenity... and four seconds later, you realise you've just urinated in your pants."
From the reaction of the couple right next to us, it was apparent that some people have a different idea than myself on what constitutes blasphemy towards Leonard Cohen.
Doesn't change the fact that I was right, though.
(Stealing from Rheostatics, on the other hand, is like trying to bite through a coconut, i.e., "Just stop already. At first it was funny, but now we're getting embarrassed just watching you.")
That's not to say people don't quote Leonard Cohen, but when they do, they make sure he gets full credit, and pay him the proper respects. The tribute concert on Saturday was no different -- there were five different singers featured, and with each one, you could see their face brighten up when they got to the part of the song with their favourite lyric. It was like watching a child finally escape the fairground lineup and climb up onto the roller coaster.
Better yet was when they messed up one of the lyrics, though -- then, their face pulled back into that horrified laughter you see when the camera catches the roller coaster at the start of a drop. Everybody knows that they're in trouble, but everybody knows what they're going through. After all, who'd want to be in their shoes, misquoting Leonard Cohen when they're trying to honour him?
It was a fantastic concert, though. The singers were captivating, the audience was supportive, the theatre was beautiful, and the arrangements were a fine blend of re-creation and recreation. Add the company of some wonderful friends, and a truly awe-inspiring spoken-word performance the previous night, and you have a perfect weekend for poetry.
The final cadence to the evening came when my friends and I left the theatre. The conversation turned to how often people would initially use Cohen's songs for a love ballad, only to be shocked when they finally realise what his lyrics are really saying. I tried to explain the phenomenon thusly:
"The thing is, even if it's not a song about true and eternal love, it still manages to stir up the same emotional triggers we associate with those emotions. He triggers the same effect through a different cause. It's kind of like when you're overcome with a sense of warmth and serenity... and four seconds later, you realise you've just urinated in your pants."
From the reaction of the couple right next to us, it was apparent that some people have a different idea than myself on what constitutes blasphemy towards Leonard Cohen.
Doesn't change the fact that I was right, though.
1.7.07
Chamberpunk.
Happy Canada Day, everyone! And, what better way to celebrate our nation's anniversary than with a quick story tangentially related to our most overrated franchise?
The other day, I drove past the local Tim Horton's, where a group of people were smoking on the parking lot outside. My windows were rolled up, and my stereo was turned up to the tunes of a string quartet.
By the time the cello's bass rumblings made their way through my car's chassis, they were indistinguishable to bystanders from the "OOM-chah" distortion that invariably pulls behind you at a red light.
Then, I rolled down the window, so they could hear what I was actually listening to -- just before I pulled away.
For some reason, I felt like I did my good deed for the day.
All right, that's all for now. On to the fireworks!
The other day, I drove past the local Tim Horton's, where a group of people were smoking on the parking lot outside. My windows were rolled up, and my stereo was turned up to the tunes of a string quartet.
By the time the cello's bass rumblings made their way through my car's chassis, they were indistinguishable to bystanders from the "OOM-chah" distortion that invariably pulls behind you at a red light.
Then, I rolled down the window, so they could hear what I was actually listening to -- just before I pulled away.
For some reason, I felt like I did my good deed for the day.
All right, that's all for now. On to the fireworks!
18.11.06
What the poets are saying.
All right. 31321 words at the end of a long night, but I'm ahead of schedule, and feeling good about it. Even more importantly, I've worked in the traditional Tragically Hip lyric into the dialogue. Included in the following is an excerpt from the title (and closing) track of their latest, World Container.
Sorry about the philosophical pretentiousness, but that sort of stuff comes easy when you're just trying to make words appear.
"So, those are comedians. But you said all actors show that mirror to the audience. What of those others?"
"Excellent question, Blinky. Say -- you don't mind if I call you Blinky, do you? As a clown name?"
Blinky drew himself up in his chair, heady with the idea of having been indoctrinated into the ranks of Named Clowns.
"All right, then. So,the question was, what about other actors? In other words, the other half. Comedy has been paired with Tragedy, now known as Drama, ever since the invention of the theatre. When Drama holds up that mirror, people identify with it, and they see themselves, yes. But they see the past. Drama is too intense in portraying unfamiliar emotions, and too successful in recalling familiar ones. Of course, the good dramatists can pull out any sort of particular memory -- say, the loss of childhood -- and apply it to a foreign concept, like abandoning a mountain climber as you scale a summit. Still, it's all a matter of working with the audiences' past."
Alton tapped his chin for a second, and finally hit upon the right thing to say. "Comedy is all about the here and now. We show the blunt, direct, unavoidable face of the world as it currently is, complete with the progression of all our flaws, and we force it into people's faces. Drama takes you down to those touchless times... and what we have there are all the flaws in progress, where all songs are one song, and that song is "Don't Forget"."
Upon hearing this, Gordon finally gave up his resistance, and smiled. "You know, I'm still not sure if you really know all that much. But you've got a nice way of saying it."
Alton took a slight bow.
Sorry about the philosophical pretentiousness, but that sort of stuff comes easy when you're just trying to make words appear.
"So, those are comedians. But you said all actors show that mirror to the audience. What of those others?"
"Excellent question, Blinky. Say -- you don't mind if I call you Blinky, do you? As a clown name?"
Blinky drew himself up in his chair, heady with the idea of having been indoctrinated into the ranks of Named Clowns.
"All right, then. So,the question was, what about other actors? In other words, the other half. Comedy has been paired with Tragedy, now known as Drama, ever since the invention of the theatre. When Drama holds up that mirror, people identify with it, and they see themselves, yes. But they see the past. Drama is too intense in portraying unfamiliar emotions, and too successful in recalling familiar ones. Of course, the good dramatists can pull out any sort of particular memory -- say, the loss of childhood -- and apply it to a foreign concept, like abandoning a mountain climber as you scale a summit. Still, it's all a matter of working with the audiences' past."
Alton tapped his chin for a second, and finally hit upon the right thing to say. "Comedy is all about the here and now. We show the blunt, direct, unavoidable face of the world as it currently is, complete with the progression of all our flaws, and we force it into people's faces. Drama takes you down to those touchless times... and what we have there are all the flaws in progress, where all songs are one song, and that song is "Don't Forget"."
Upon hearing this, Gordon finally gave up his resistance, and smiled. "You know, I'm still not sure if you really know all that much. But you've got a nice way of saying it."
Alton took a slight bow.
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