Memory whiplash: “Baby eat that chicken slow...”

I’m far from the first to note how music locks us into times. You can’t control what songs are playing and popular in any year, and they become indelibly associated with that time in your life.

For me, I can’t think of The Tragically Hip without thinking of grad school. 100.3 The Q, the local Victoria rock radio station, declared The Hip to be their “house band,” so they were kind of ubiquitous on the airwaves when I was doing my doctorate.

When I moved out of the country, I didn’t hear their music any more. I’d heard about Gord Downie’s diagnosis of terminal cancer. But I happened to be in Canada this last weekend, and caught a bit of the Hip’s final show on CBC. I saw people’s reaction on Twitter. Even with my tiny little familiarity with the band and the music, I was awestruck by how they touched people last Saturday night.

I was never actually a big fan of the Tragically Hip’s music. But I always liked this one a lot.


Thank you, Gord.