When the Tragically Hip performed at the House of Blues recently, it was clear that a special
event was to behold. The Hip did not disappoint. Their show was the Event of the Year for all
Southern California Canadians, and served as a great introduction to the most popular Canadian
band ever to not make it big in the US. (What a sin it is that Glass Tiger, Brian Adams, and
Alanis have sold more copies in America than the Hip!) Performing a selection of songs from
albums old and new, the Tragically Hip demonstrated why they are the most under-appreciated band
in rock and roll.

<Picture>The Tragically Hip began the show with "Gift Shop" from their new album Trouble in the
Henhouse. Traditionally, the Hip have debuted new songs in live settings. For American audiences,
"Gift Shop" made its first appearance last summer and possibly was written while on tour with
Blues Traveler in 1994. Some songs sound ok live, while others are made to only heard in concert.
"Gift Shop" is one of them. The high-energy song is a perfect opener for a band as exciting as
the Tragically Hip.

"Grace, Too" was another early highlight. Gordon Downie sang this song of seduction and abuse
with amazing physical intensity while acting out a scenario that matched its spirit, if not the
literal phrasing. "The secret rules of engagement are hard to endorse," he yelled as imitating a
gun to his head, "When the appearance of conflict meets the appearance of force." Drummer Johnny
Fayís baroque, prodding rhythm that opens the song introduced Downieís character as one with as
much mental imbalance as twisted anger. "I come from downtown," he shouted to the crowd, stating
his readiness for a rip-roaring concert. "Born ready for you!" Setting the tone for the rest of
the concert the Tragically Hip declared for all of Los Angeles -- nay, all of America -- to
hear?: they are "Armed with will and determination and grace, too."

The Tragically Hip are far and away the best and most popular band in Canada. Each album since
their independent self-titled debut have gone at least Canadian platinum (the equivalent to US
gold in a country one tenth the size). Most recently the Hip played before 50,000 of their
country men at a concert in which Midnight Oil was the opening band. Armed with millions of album
sold, an opening slot opposite the reunited Led Zeppelin, and guest appearances on HORDE, The
Tragically Hip are one of the most celebrated and accomplished bands you have never heard of.

One of the absolute pleasures of the evening was hearing "Opiated" early in the set. It is a
classic track from the Hipís first major label album Up to Here. "Opiated" gives Downie the
perfect opportunity to mentally exit the public arena of the stage and enter his own world. "Now
I lie here so out-of-breath," he confesses, "and over-opiated." The addictive madness of "the
poison in his head" is a frightening reminder as to just how intense and intelligent Downie is.
All of the songs (and his meta-textual additions to them) make one wonder just what it is the
Tragically Hip are singing about. Some songs, like "50 Mission Caps" are obviously concoctions of
humor and bleak tales of death and irony. But others, like "Opiated" remain general stories about
abandonment and drug abuse, and all the while cry out for explanation. The Tragically Hip remain
one of the worldís most dynamic blues-rock bands. Their songs are brilliant stories, filled with
snapshots of crazed psychosis.

<Picture>The Hip also play "New Orleans is Sinking (And I Donít Want to Swim)" which has been as
close to a hit in American as they have come. It was their first real foray into the spirit of
Americana, with references to Bourbon Street and the Mississippi. It is the most straightforward
of all Hip songs, especially of all Hip songs about debauchery and excess. "I canít forsake a
Dixie-dead shake," admitted Downie to no one in particular, but it could have been a bartender
towards the back, "so we danced the sidewalk clean." The most interesting thing about this song
is that it has been a fertile ground for The Tragically Hipís new found penchant for minor
on-stage jams. "Ahead by a Century" and "Sherpa" were actually borne out of mid-song
introspective Gordon rambles. At the House of Blues, the Hip did not disappoint, as Sinclair
started babbling during one bridge until it turned into "Sherpa." With a separate and non-album
sing-songy chorus, it is clear that the Hip will have many new songs to debut the next time
through L.A.

The selection of songs overall was quite interesting, with eight songs from Henhouse, four from
Day for Night, zero (!) from Road Apples, and two from Up to Here. More striking than what was
performed was what was not. Some great songs from all albums were not played, including
"Cordelia," "Little Bones," "Everytime You Go," and "She Didnít Know." It is amazing that the
Tragically Hip have such a wealth of treasures and yet still travel the States in relative
obscurity. It will be a crime if America continues to resist the Hip Invasion. Never, in my
estimation, has such a talented (Gord Sinclair and Bob Baker are possibly the best bass / guitar
combo in North America) and intelligent band gone unnoticed. All they really need is a talented
video director who understands the Hipís dementia and dark humor and the revolution will begin
...

"At Hundredth Meridian" is a blistering attack on the dominance of American culture. "Me debunk
an American myth," Downie asks coyly, "and take my life in my hands?" From the time the Hip
announced "We are at the Hundredth Meridian tonight," the crowd whipped itself into a frenzy that
continued even through the mellow break-down experiment in the middle of the song. Alternating
between bouncing and wild moshing, the audience yelled along to this most cathartic
anti-colonialist tune. Out of the desolate landscape came a wailing call to arms: "we are a rock
band and all we strive for is to fucking rock!" Downie seemed to shout. The Tragically Hip are a
Canadian band in the truest sense. Their songs are rich in cultural references about obscure
hockey trivia and prime ministers.

"Bring me back in shackles," begins the title track to the Hipís third album Fully Completely.
"exonerate me, forget about me." The song is a love song that mixes up the notions of lust and
dependence. "I recommend measures for ending it," Downie admits to the crowd. "but she said
ëyouíre gonna miss me, wait and youíll see.í Fully, Completely." Downie expresses an aversion to
commitment as well as a fear of loneliness. Like most Hip songs there are many levels with which
to interpret. Lyrically it is about the ruined relationship. But with Downieís on-stage
contortions it also becomes a viscous entrée into his psyche. One nearly feels guilty having such
clear access to his inner struggles. "I ponder the endlessness of the stars," Downie commented on
his role as lead singer. "Either itíll move me or itíll move right through me." His great level
of honesty as a writer and as a live performer, the only outcome is moving rock and roll. The
Tragically Hip are somewhere between the Bruce Springsteen of Canada and Elvis Costello:
provocative and raw self-reflection without concern for how private and truthful the audienceís
glimpses may be.

<Picture: setlist>One of the most disturbing Hip songs is "Locked in the Trunk of a Car" which
was actually released as a single in 1992. The narration switches between a murderer and his
victim about whom the title refers. "I found a place its dark and rotted," Downie murmurs in his
sickest voice. "Itís a cool, sweet kind of place where the copters wonít spot it. Everyday I am
dumping the body." "Trunk" is literally about the dumping of a corpse, but metaphorical it is the
richest of the Tragically Hipís songs. Beyond the literal level is the self-reflection on
Downieís inner termoil. "Itís better for us if you donít understand," he warns with a stern glare
out to the crowd. "Itís better for me it you donít understand," he admits with a scared look down
at his shoes. The classic Downie motion is to gesture with both of his hands out to the darkness
beyond the stage and then to bring them closer to his body as if retreating in horror. Downie
buried his hands after succumbing to "the machine-revving tension" within his doomed soul. It is
a dark place to reside. The pains are old and rusted but the passion is sweet though rotted. When
he cried "Let me out,í Downie stood back from the microphone to affect a sense of distance in his
voice. The result was a haunting sense that locked deep within him were tortured personalities
whose only relief was the expression we witnessed on stage.

"Daredevil" was the final encore. Live it is one of the Hipís most dramatic and aggressive songs.
If the concert as a whole was a trip through Downieís live wires, then "Daredevil" is his
breakdown. "You say your name like youíre no longer convinced," he says like one insane patient
to another, "but now they are strapping you in and closing the lid." It is a song of
disintegration and madness. Bakerís awesome blurry solo implies a distorted world view. A
haunting and disturbing way to end a show, but it was classic Tragically Hip.