![]() Read the lyrics to “38 Years Old.” It’s a fully formed story at 280 words. “With illusions of someday cast in a golden light/no dress rehearsals this is our life.” “Not trying to make you a believer/don’t wanna little piece of your heart/just telling you a story …” “You can’t be fond of living in the past/cause if you are then there’s no way that you’re gonna last.” ![]() His writing could be esoteric at times, but he tossed off lines that would make you shake your head with their meaning and beauty. Gord was such a magnetic performer, it overshadowed how great a writer he was. The best eight minutes you’ll spend today are listening to this version of New Orleans is Sinking: His in-song stream-of-consciousness rants were legendary. He danced like he had a live ferret trapped in his pants, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. So much of the attention today has been paid to what he meant to Canada, how he embodied so much of that country’s spirit. ![]() Between the 13 concerts (plus one solo concert of his) and the endless hours of music on every stereo I’ve owned since 1995, I’ve probably listened to Gord Downie’s vocie more than anybody else's except my parents, sister and wife. Gord Downie was the lead singer to the soundtrack of my life. You know how much Tom Petty meant to most of you? That’s what Gord Downie meant to me. We knew it was coming those nights last summer, when we gathered in hockey arenas across Canada to see the band one last time to say goodbye.īut that didn’t make the news alerts this morning any easier. We knew it was coming that morning last May, when the email from The Tragically Hip popped into our inboxes and said that Gord Downie had terminal cancer. “I hate explanations … when the music’s right, no one needs an explanation, and when it’s not, no one wants one.” - Gary Smith ![]()
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