I, along all of Canada (except my Compound Wife TC, which was such an incredibly shocking bit of news that we are now in Compound Couples counseling) watched the Tragically Hip's last concert in utter awe and more than a few tears shining in my eyes. Admittedly, I was less emotional than I had anticipated being. There is something incredibly wonderful and awe inspiring of watching some one live with such incredible grace. I can only hope to achieve a fraction of that.
I don't really know what I want to say about the show. I have so many words, but I fear I don't have the ability to string them together in anything that conveys the true depth of what happened Saturday night and to be fair, far more eloquent writers have written the shit out of it already. Go read them all if you have the chance.
Fully Completely was the soundtrack of this Sunday morning in Blogmotherland. I asked Abby if the music struck a chord in her or if it just wasn't to her taste. Bear in mind this is 14 year old with ear buds permanently affixed to her ears. She listens to a lot of music, is what I am saying. She said, "it's not my bag really, but if you're dancing, I'll dance with you". Not a total fail, I guess.
At that point I tried to explain thirty years of The Hip to her. How they were more Canadian than Canada. How they and their songs were us, her Dad and I, her Uncle Dave...... everyone of our generation. How not achieving mega success across the border made them just ours. Something ultra elite. Like the secret warehouse district party that you need to know the code word to get into. I tried to explain how beautiful and out of this world their lyrics were. How they were so deep despite their, some time, simplicity. How the night before would never happen for a Justin Bieber. And I guess that right there is the problem, there is nothing comparable for her generation.