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On August 11th, 1998 I took a little detour off of Phish tour and went to Boston for my first (and only) American The Tragically Hip show. Seeing the Canadian icons on foreign soil is a right-of-passage for Hip fans; everyone’s goto story is about the time they saw the band in the States, and no wonder. In an era where The Tragically Hip were selling out two-night stands at Maple Leaf Gardens in a matter of minutes their shows in the US were generally bar and theatre gigs, aside from their stadium runs opening for The Stones and Page/Plant. So I figured it was worth skipping the Star Lake show to catch The Hip at Bill’s Bar before picking up Phish tour again at Vernon Downs, and I was pretty amped to get to Boston.
There had been car trouble along the tour – the radiator fan wasn’t working nor was the temperature gauge (you gotta know), but as long as I kept the car above 50kms/hr or so all was going well.
And then pulling into Boston of course I found myself in snarling traffic. This was before I knew that the city was notorious for crazy traffic due to The Big Dig, but as the car crawled along towards the venue I was learning fast. Lo and behold, Bill’s Bar was right next to Fenway Park and there was a ball game about to start which added to the traffic situation exponentially, and as the car boiled over and spouted a massive cloud from beneath it’s hood I found myself at the crux of a traffic jam of almost Biblical proportions.
I somehow pulled the car off the road and let it cool off while I found a tourist office. The tourist office in turn found that the city’s hotels were booked solid, and I soon found myself floundering for a quick solution to a quickly mounting pile of woes.
When she suddenly found me a room just around the block I was forced to pounce on it despite the $300 price tag. This was an era where I would generally sleep in a car or a field or stacked ten deep in a Super 8 motel and this was far-and-away the most money I had spent on a hotel room in my life up to that point. I was mortified but started getting over it when I watched with glee as the white-gloved valet puttered away in the troubled VW Jetta, piled to the ceiling in camping gear and general detritus as it was and spewing any number of gases and fumes.
A quick shower in the posh room and off to the show! Bill’s Bar is a small, square room; I estimated about 240 people packed in there for the concert. I remember the stage only being about 18” off the floor, The Hip were packed in fairly tight and they put on a rollicking great show standing toe-to-toe with one another.
The bar was clearly full of Canadians who, like me, were ecstatic to be hearing this great music in such an intimate venue. Unfortunately the verve was so high that Gord Downie was completely drowned out but the screaming crowd, as they drunkenly yelled every lyric to every song the band played. Except the new ones of course, and as the band was touring Phantom Power it would have been songs like Poets, Something On, and Thompson Girl that left the crowd speechless and actually afforded an opportunity to hear the great Gord Downie sing. But you know how it is with new songs, hardly anyone is listening anyway and there tends to be lots of chatter. I’m sure lots of people twiddled their thumbs during future fan favourites like Bobcaygeon and Fireworks waiting for the band to get back to their ‘hits’.
Gord twice commented on the singalonging, the first time he asked if the crowd would “please let me do my job”. This had no effect, and later in the set he more forcefully asked the crowd to stop drowning him out, again to no avail. I’m sure this happened at most of the band’s non-Canadian gigs, and it must have gotten pretty frustrating. I mean, showing the band that you’re a fan is one thing, but the guy has a show to do and it must be hard for him to pull a song in one direction or another when the whole room is screaming the album version at full volume. It’s testament to his character that he wasn’t much less gregarious about it, as I’m sure I would be.
All that said it was a great show and a memorable night. I stayed for an extra drink or two and as I started off down the street towards my very hoity-toity hotel room I saw Bobby Baker walking out the back door of the venue carrying his guitar case. I yelled, “great show!” and he flashed me a smile and a peace sign. Back at the hotel I stole all the high-end soaps and shampoos I could find and even took the disposable shower cap. Like I’m ever going to use a disposable shower cap. I think I still have it.
Todd Man Out 