I write this review dog-tired, pissed-off, and more than a
bit
hung-over. Nevertheless, it would be impossible for anyone in their
right mind to deny the fact that this band rocks. The Rheostatics opened
with a 40 minute long, solid set; playing material from their new album,
as well as older works. Though the socially mal-adjusted gentleman
beside me insisted on shouting "You suck! The Hip rock" (very profound)
after every song, the Rheos, decked out in their three-peice suits,
set
the stage very nicely.
And what a stage it was -- a skyscape was the backdrop for a
mock-up of
a rooftop, and when Gord and the boys took the stage, they certainly
seemed to be high above it all.
Here's a set list:
Giftshop
Grace, too
Springtime in Vienna
Everytime you go
ABAC
Coconut Cream
Titanic Terrarium/700ft Ceiling *
Courage
Daredevil
NEW
Flamenco
100th Meridian **
3 Pistols
Apartment
FC
Nautical Disaster
Fire in the Hole
---------
NOIS
Little Bones
(Can't Remember)
---------
Wheat Kings
Butts Wigglin'
Locked in the Trunk of a Car.
<whew>
For two hours, the Hip held 15,00 people in a state of hypnosis.
Gord,
shaved head and all, was as energetic as always, though he did play
accoustic for almost half of the songs.
The only down point of the evening (*) was when the band attempted
Titanic Terrariun (and I do mean attempted.) Though the reviewer
Vancouver Sun was convinced that it was a mere opening for 700ft
Cieling, anyone who had ever listened to DFN new it was Titanic
Terrarium (About a minute in):
"His great Grandfather worked
for Goodyear
He didn't know nothing
'bout..."
At this point, Gord trailed off.. the band kept playing for about
three
bars, then Gord stopped them. "I'm fucked up!" he yelled, "I really
Fucked that up. Let's start again." And they did, but a mere four bars
into the next try, they stopped. "Fuck this. 700ft Cieling." A mistake,
to be sure, but no one seemed to mind. In fact, if anythig, the crowd
seemed to love it.
The highlite of the night for me was 100th meridian (**). This
was a
classic 15 minute-write-a-new-song-on-stage performance. I couldn't
pick
out most of the song, but I got some of it:
"The water was cold, I was
10 years old
I got a fear erection.
Talk about being singled
out
They chased me all
the way home."
Of course, I could have been imagining things, but that's what
I
caught.
Just one last message to everyone who wasn't at the show last
night, or
doesn't have tickets to a show near home -- call TicketMaster, now.
-Jer.
Saturday, November 9, 1996
Downie and dirty
By TYLER McLEOD
Calgary Sun
Ý
No doubt a reference to Thursday night when the Hip was rumored to
be joining the Rheos at a small club gig.
Ý
Rumors have it the rumor was true, as far as rumors go, but called
off for crowd control reasons.
Ý
But for the 16,000 at the Vancouver Coliseum last night, no control
was to be had.
Ý
A newly shorn Gordon Downie calmly walked to the mike and stated a
simple "Hello, let's hear it
for the Rheostatics and the good ol' PNE."
Ý
Predictably, the set opened with Gift Shop -- Trouble at the Henhouse's
first track. It was a
seamless rendition, as recorded.
Ý
It wasn't until Downie introduced Day for Night's Grace, Too that the
frenetic followers were
reminded of his legendary stage persona.
Ý
"This is a song about a man who's lost his identity. ... Where's my
identity, WHERE IS IT?
WHERE'S MY IDENTITY?"
Ý
Well, you can guess the rest.
Ý
The Hip reassured fans old material wasn't forgotten by reaching all
the way back to Up To Here
for Every Time You Go. Rather than just playing "the old stuff," the
boys offered a visit with
another Tragically Hip. Because every time the Hip reforms, it isn't
a band with new material, it
is an entirely new group.
Ý
A more mature, a more experienced, and a more enjoyable group.
Ý
They hopped back to the future for Ahead by a Century and Coconut Cream,
in which their new setup
finally got a workout.
Ý
Rest assured the Hip hasn't gone Kiss or Garth Brooks on us; the stage
is just a touch bigger and
better lit. The esthetics of the Henhouse tour are carefully choreographed
not to diminish the
performance, only to enhance.
Ý
Their metallic, sun-shaped stage features seating areas within the
spokes of the star,
reminiscent of Metallica's Snake Pit. (Don't worry, the comparison
ends there.) Fans won entrance
into "The Henhouse" by donating to the food bank.
Ý
The jamming and experimenting normally found during New Orleans Is
Sinking was injected into At
The Hundredth Meridian.
Ý
Courage obviously didn't come to Downie at the right time.
Ý
Two songs earlier, he had forgotten a verse to Titanic Terrarium and
had to convince band mates
Gord Sinclair, Bobby Baker, Johnny Fay and Paul Langlois to restart.
Again failing to find the
groove, Downie moved along to 700 ft. Ceiling.
Ý
The crowd didn't care. The Hip can do no wrong. They have become an
indisputable force of nature
who don't have to look for a place to happen. They just do. And 16,000
people were lucky enough
to go along for the ride.
Ý
Considerably higher voltage than their performance at this summer's
Calgary Folk Festival, The
Rheostatics drove home a crunching set.
Ý
The Whale Musicians must be favorites of the Hip, having already tagged
along on Another Roadside
Attraction, and its only a matter of time until they win over a sizable
portion of the arena
crowds.
Ý
they now face.
Ý
Through their catalog and said three appearances, it is obvious these
guys are improving and
polishing each time out.
Ý
You never know, when was the last time you took the Hip's debut out
for a spin? Practice makes
perfect.
Ý
Thanks to an emotional introduction by William S. Burroughs and the
play by play of Paul
Henderson's miracle goal in Moscow (Esposito to Cournyer, Tretiak on
his back...) during the 1972
Canada Cup, the Ontario quartet showed their maple leaf blood in fine
form.
Ý
Who on earth found a tape of Burroughs talking puck I don't know. But
I do know it is a surreal
experience indeed to be in (sadly) empty and darkened arena with a
goal take took place of 20
years previous being scored.
Ý
Come to think of it, Burroughs does kinda sound like the voice from
one of those I Am
commercials.
Ý
Yeah, Vancouver. Drink that Molson Canadian, wear that hemp, cheer
for those over-paid Russians
in Canuck uniforms, but all the Hip t-shirts you can afford, because
YOU ARE CANADIAN. You are
Canadian and you will go home humming Flamenco.