"The Hip"

Everyone in Canada has a Tragically Hip story, here's mine...

I moved to Dallas, Texas, in February 1993.
I had moved to town to record my first album (Songs From A Northern Town) in a studio up in North Dallas called Sumet Sound.

In March of 1993, I was hanging around a record shop a couple of miles from my apartment in Irving, Texas.
I used to spend HOURS browsing around records stores any chance I got.

Maybe you can relate.

Anyway, I was at the register paying for the new Rick Rubin-produced Mick Jagger album Wandering Spirit when, behind the counter, I noticed a poster that said, “The Tragically Hip Cover Texas Fully, Completely!!!”

”The Hip are playing in town?”
”Yeah, man. Dallas City Limits, next month. You heard of ‘em?”
”Man, I’m a huge fan. Never seen ‘em before. Always wanted to. I can’t believe they’re playing here. You guys selling tickets?”
”Yep. Got a few left.”
”I’ll take two of ‘em.”

The morning of the show, I decided to go to the venue later that afternoon and see if I could sneak in for soundcheck.
I mean, why not?

I had also decided that if I met the band, I'd ask Gord Downie to sing on my album.
Again, why not?

A buddy of mine from Bonnyville (Darren Horyn) was in town, and he figured that those were two of the best ideas he'd ever heard.

That was all the convincing I needed.
A couple of hours later, we drove to the club.

A tour bus was parked alongside the building.

We walked in and sat down at a table.
The waitress came over and took our order.
Coffee and an ashtray.

The Hip's crew were on the stage setting up the gear.
Eventually, one by one, the guys all started walking in.

Johnny Fay.
Gord Sinclair.
Paul Langlois.
Rob Baker.

On their way to the stage, they stopped by our table, said hello, and signed the CDs that we had brought.

Just a nice bunch of guys.

About ten minutes later, Gord Downie walked in.

He stopped at our table and said, "I'm not in the band, but is it ok if I sign the CDs too?"
He sat down and talked to us for about 15 minutes while the rest of the band puttered around on stage, setting up their gear.

He asked what we were doing in Texas.
I told him that I was in town recording my first album.

"Cool, man! Well, good luck with that, Mike!"

(You know what they say about courage and how it couldn't come at a worse time...)

I asked if he ever sang on other people's albums.

He said he didn't do that sort of thing very often because he'd have to run the idea by the guys in the band and their managers, and then the record company would also have to sign off on the idea of him making a guest appearance.

So yeah, in otherwords, a bit of a rigamarole.

But, he said they would be in town the following weekend for EdgeFest, and if he had time, he'd like to hear how the album was coming along.
He asked for my phone number and said he'd track me down when they got to town.

He took out his lyric book, flipped to the back page, and wrote my number down.

Then he stood up and said, "Well, I guess I should get up there and see how it sounds. I'll see you guys around. Nice meeting you. Good luck with the recording, Mike.”

For the next half hour or so, we sat there and watched our very own Tragically Hip show.

Though I didn't recognize any songs they played that afternoon, I had a feeling that we were hearing the seeds of what would become their next album, Day For Night.

"One day in El Paso, the cops go into the crowd…"

Six hours later, we made our way back to Dallas City Limits.
There were about 700 people stuffed into the club.
Darren and I were front-row center.

The lights went down.
The Hip walked out.

They opened with Locked in the Trunk of a Car.

For the next 90 minutes, it was complete insanity.
Fully, completely, you might say.
The crowd went back and forth between chanting, "Hip! Hip! Hip! Hip!"
and "Gordie! Gordie!"

It was the greatest gig I'd ever seen!

After the show, we drove down to a place I used to play in Deep Ellum called Chumley's.
We sat at the bar and ordered a couple of drinks.
Chumley (the guy who owned the place, oddly enough) asked what we'd been up to that night.
I told him we went to Dallas City Limits to see a band from Canada called The Tragically Hip.

"The Hip were in town tonight?"
"Yeah, man! Are you a fan?"
"Yeah, man! They’re buddies of mine. Whenever they're in town, they usually swing by for a drink and shoot some pool…"

We hung around in hopes of crossing paths with the Hip again.
But it was not to be.
After an hour, it looked like things were winding down, so we paid our tab and headed home.

I lived about 15 minutes west of town, just past Texas Stadium, on the 183.

We walked into my apartment.
I noticed the red light was flashing on my answering machine.
I hit play.

"Hi, Mike, this is Gord from the Hip. I guess we just missed you here at Chumley’s. I'll track you down next weekend. Take care..."

FUCK!!!

I called Chumley's.

ring ring
ring ring

"Chumley's!"
"Hey, is Gord Downie there?"
"Yeah, hang on. Gord! Yer wanted on the phone!"
"Hello…"

We made small talk.
He asked me if I liked the show.

"Are you kidding? It was amazing! So intense! Loads of fun! What'd you think of the show?"
"Same as you. Intense. Loads of fun."

We talked for about 5 minutes.
They were just about to get on the bus and drive overnight to Houston.

He said he'd try to track me down the following week.

He did.
He said their schedule was tight, and there wouldn't be much time to cross paths, but he hoped to hear my album someday.

I told him that I hoped he'd, one day, hear my record, too.

Fast forward to February 1995.
The Tragically Hip was playing at Northlands Coliseum in Edmonton.

Again, the show was intense.
Loads of fun.
There were about 16,000 more people at the Edmonton show, but it was a crazy show just the same.

Somehow, I got backstage passes.

There were about ten of us there waiting to meet the band.
They walked around the room, signed album covers and t-shirts, and made small talk with everyone.

Just a nice bunch of guys.

Downie walked up to me, stuck out his hand, and said, "I'm Gord."
"Hey Gord, I'm Mike. I met you a couple of years ago in Dallas when I was…"
"Weren't you recording an album down there?"
"Yeah, I was!"

I couldn't believe he remembered.

"How'd that go for you?"
"Well, I got a copy right here for you…"

He opened up the CD and leafed through the liner notes.

"Cool, Mike. Well done! Congratulations!"
"Thanks, man!"
"So, how's it going? You gigging lots?"
"It's going, but it's tough. But that's nothing you don't already know…"
"Yeah, well, you know, Mike, nothing works better than hard work."

"Nothing works better than hard work."
What a line!
So true.
Their next gig was in BC, so they were about to climb onto the bus and drive through the night.

He asked me if I needed a lift somewhere.

"Hey, no thanks, man, I'm cool. My car is parked a couple blocks away…"

I stood on the sidewalk as the bus pulled out of the Northlands parking lot.
It had started to snow.
Not a blizzard, but steady, just the same.

I wished that was me rolling down the highway to another town.
That's the life I'd always wanted.
More than anything.
But…
Nothing works better than hard work.

As the snow fell, I walked the two blocks back to my car, only to find it had been towed.

Epilogue:

Fast forward five years, and we are recording an album (Fools For The Radio) at the Hip's studio in Bath, Ontario.

One afternoon, during a break from recording, I was snooping around a bookshelf stuffed with books and CDs when something familiar caught my eye.

Songs From A Northern Town.

The very one I'd given Gord Downie that snowy night in Edmonton back in February of 1995.
I couldn't believe it.
I shook my head and laughed at the randomness of it all.
Then I remembered that nothing works better than hard work.
I put the CD back on the shelf and went back to work.

"Fiddlers Green" shot by Chris Plume on October 19, 2017, at the Winspear Auditorium in Edmonton.