The word on the street was that it was going to be nightmare, and the word on the street didn't lie. For a few minutes I even thought that perhaps a firm plan was in place and that it was all going to work out... but at the end, at the final accounting, it didn't. Effectively doubling the population of Niagara-on-the-Lake with a pre- Canada Day Tragically Hip extravaganza with luminaries Death Cab For Cutie and New Pornographers, and Canadian up and comer Rural Alberta Advantage probably sounded like fun, and the parties involved almost pulled it off. The strategy of having concert goers park in lots FAR away from downtown NOL and bussing them in so as to preserve the genteel tranquility of the area while controlling the crazies sounded good on paper... but then the show ended, everybody left at once, and the shuttle bussing strategy descended into a quasi "Last Train to Clarksville" / "last copter out of Saigon" scenario, and it wasn't pretty.
The day's festivities however up until the end went pretty damn swimmingly. The parkland Commons next to the Butler's Barrack's at Fort George in Niagara-on-the-Lake was a sea of music lovers and food trucks, with ample alcohol dispensaries and port-o-potties, and a big tree to the side for shade, and nice, soft grass that easy on the feet. In fact, the whole thing reminded me of the Tragically Hip Roadside Attractions of old, and the vibes on the ground were exceptional as the copious amounts of alcohol, other stuff, and a relentless sun combined to create a convivial and joyful atmosphere that carried the day and almost the night. My crew and I completely missed the Rural Alberta Advantage's opening set, but we got properly situated in time for the New Pornographers, who didn't disappoint with their playfully edgy 70's AM radio inspired pop. Admittedly the New Pornographers aren't for everybody, but as somebody who remembers the good, the bad and ugly of 70's AM radio I'll always have a soft spot for the crafted pop of that era, especially on a hot summer afternoon when I had an iced highball in my hand. Yes, they served highballs at this thing, Canadian Club and ginger ale premixed in a can. All was right with the world.
After scoring a damn good lobster roll and a blackened fish taco from a couple of food trucks (and a few more highballs), Death Cab For Cutie started their set, and I zoned out. I guess they were not unenjoyable; I certainly enjoyed my zone out on the grass under the shady tree, but as I'm not a fan of Death Cab's overly restrained techno folk, I sort of just let their restrained groove chill me out while I marshalled my mojo for the headliner (and knocked back my iced highballs). If nothing else, the line-up was inspired, putting the low key Death Cab For Cutie ("they all look like dads" according to my cousin Rebecca) before the Hip wrapped up the day's festivities with a ridiculously powerful closing set.
Oh, it was a glorious set. In all truth, I wasn't totally blown away by last year's Hip show at the Harbor. I thought drummer Johnny Fay was all over the place, and without that anchor the rest of the band couldn't lock it in, and the result was a tad underwhelming. Saturday night however Johnny Fay was ON FIRE, his timing electric in it's perfection, and on that foundation Gord Sinclair was able to lay down his serpentine bass lines and Bobby Baker was free to unload his vast arsenal of psychedelic guitar licks and picks, and the results were spectacular. I've always thought of the Hip like jambalaya: each ingredient compliments and builds on each other, but if one ingredient is off the end result is a dud. If all of the ingredients are kicking however, you have a killer jambalaya, and a killer Tragically Hip performance. It was all working Saturday night: Gord Downie was in exceptional voice and form, ranting, raving, and dancing with his mic stand; the rest of the band was locked in and killing it; and the Canadian crowd was into it completely.
Indeed, there's nothing quite like a Tragically Hip show in Canada: the bonhomie that bonds the band to it's native audience, the young dudes overindulging and having their Canadian coming of age experience at the Hip show before keeling over and/or blowing chunks, the preponderance of clouds of funny smelling smoke, the insane sing-alongs... Hip shows in Canada are almost religious in scope and effect, and this show was a trip to the mountaintop. All out jam outs were the rule of the night as every Hip classic on the setlist got a thorough workout from the band, with standouts like "Last of the Unplucked Gems," "Grace, Too," "Poets," and "Giftshop" becoming epic majesties that drove the crowd wild with delight. Even the newer material off of their last few albums generated passionate responses and intense singing from the crowd (that I had to chuckle at). I couldn't help but be carried along by the Hip and this joyous frenzy, and I thoroughly got loose and sang at the top of my lungs. It was fantastic, a reaffirmation of all of the reasons why I love the Hip and love music, and once again all was right with the world.
But then, the shit hit the fan. The crazies marched out and went to get on their buses, but mild chaos ensued when everybody realized that nobody had worked out how they were going to orderly load thousands of us onto the buses and get us the hell out of there. Instead of organized queues, there were crowds of crazies crowding around bus doors, and in the absence of clear direction and progress, nerves got frayed, tempers rose, and a few folks even lost their shit as the air of desperation grew as it dragged on. OK, it wasn't Apocalypse Now, but it wasn't any fun either, being 17 km from my car (3 hours and 16 minutes away on foot, I checked on Google maps), unsure of just where the fudge we were without a cab in sight, and after getting on a bus an hour and a half after the show ended, the good vibes that ruled the day were extinguished and a fading memory. It was a genuine shame. That Canadian Hip Roadside Attraction was one for the books, and to have it end like that just wasn't right or appropriate. I've been caught in some righteous post concert transportation cock-ups (R.E.M. at Blossom near Cleveland; the Virgin Music Fest in Toronto... on an island... that could only be gotten to by ferry), but this, this took the biscuit. Ah well Canada. You almost pulled it off. Almost.
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