“To Boldly Clap in a Room Full of Nothing”

What the Tragically Hip tells so-called Canadians about who they are and what they pretend to be.

For their Sunday Review on August 31, Pitchfork published their first-ever Tragically Hip review, awarding Fully Completely a well-deserved 9.4. Reviewer Alex Robert Ross expertly captured the musical power of what is arguably the band’s finest moment as well as the complicated dichotomy between the band and the die-hard fandom that elevated them to Canadian national icons.

I’ve already hinted at my own complex relationship with them, and how, for many music fans like me, the Hip have long been tainted by their association with beer-swilling frat boys drunkenly singing along to songs about wrongfully incarcerated innocents and anti-Semitic race riots. Ross suggests that pride in the band is more tied to external acknowledgement than an internal sense of accomplishment, which in part is why “the place names and even literal coordinates in their songs invite listeners to draw such connections” about what it means to be Canadian, but most fail to scratch beyond that superficial surface. “Rummage around in the songs themselves,” Ross says, “and things are more cryptic.”

Reading through the flood of 🇨🇦 emojis and fist-pumping comments on Instagram when the review went live, I saw the pride Ross describes writ large. One commenter called Fully Completely “the Canadian Holy Grail,” which makes absolutely no sense to me; another says, “As a Canadian, this is amazing!” It’s clear that some commenters took the time to read the piece, but the overall sense from most suggests that it meant more that the band—and, by extension, Canada—was being seen than understood. Then again, maybe I’m projecting, filtering their enthusiasm through my own baggage with the Hip and the ways I’ve bristled at their fandom.

I’ve often dismissed die-hard Hip fans as missing the deeper resonance of the music, or intellectually incapable of grasping the intricacies of Downie’s lyrics. Devotees call him a poet, but just how many of them truly understand him? That’s unfair of me, and I fully own it. Who’s to say my quiet, inward list of favourites is more authentic than someone else’s? Perhaps I’m overemphasizing the qualities that I think make the Hip worthy of discourse, and discounting what makes others love the Hip so fiercely. Maybe I’m the asshole.

I admire the unflinching love so many of my fellow so-called Canadians have for the Tragically Hip. While I’ve never been the sort to etch their lyrics into my skin or shout along at every public sing-along, I still keep a quiet list of Hip songs that mean a great deal to me. The trouble is, I can’t always shake the first impressions I formed in my teens and twenties, when the band’s music felt inescapably tied to a particular kind of fandom: white, heterosexual working-class cis men who blast their music from car stereos and backyard speakers as a way to claim the Hip as their own. That baggage lingers, even as I recognize the nuance and depth that a piece like Ross’s review helps bring into focus.

What I wish, more than anything, is that there was more space for conversations about the Hip that acknowledge both the pride and complicated beauty in their music, and the more complex truths about the country it reflects, truths that feel especially worth remembering when a review like this drops on the Sunday of the last long weekend of summer, just as my neighbour cranks up his backyard barbecue to soak up the last of summer’s sun while blasting “Wheat Kings” at full volume. I’d rather they put on some headphones and play “We’ll Go Too” ✦ on repeat for an hour and then come talk to me about what it all means.

Maybe I’m just as guilty of reducing the Hip and their fans to easy caricatures. I should probably wrap this up before I dig myself any deeper. Thankfully, hardly anyone will read this far, and I can only imagine the comments this might elicit from the fandom. The truth is, I was just as excited as that “Canadian Holy Grail” commenter to see Fully Completely get a Sunday review—it’s recognition that is both long overdue and well-deserved. And maybe that’s fitting: the Tragically Hip have always been a band that sparks devotion, argument, pride, and passion in equal measure, and the fact that this review has managed to do the same feels, in its own way, very Hip.

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a little more [t]here [t]here 🪩

Although I followed their work and had some favourite songs beforehand, it goes without saying that my genuine appreciation for the Tragically Hip began with Michael Barclay's definitive biography of the band, The Never-Ending Present: The Story of Gord Downie and the Tragically Hip. It’s a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the band’s history and legacy.

My fellow DOMINIONATED co-founder, Mackenzie Cameron, wrote about watching the last Tragically Hip concert and the lasting legacy and impact of the band in 2016.

One of the most popular posts on DOMINIONATED was this essay I wrote on “The Stranger,” a song from Gord Downie’s Secret Path project.

Downie’s music also inspired one of the most personal pieces I’ve ever written, specifically the song “Spoon” from his posthumous solo album, Introduce Yerself.

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Songs denoted with ✦ have been added to hear [t]here playlist on  Music + Tidal.

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