My Canadian friends Deke, Dave, CB, and Randy got me into this band and Deke (check his YouTube channel out) mentioned how he really liked this 1991 album Road Apples. Before I started blogging I only knew The Band, Guess Who, Neil Young, and Rush were from Canada but these guys have filled me in.
I’ve posted a few of their songs but nothing off this album. After listening to them this past year…I don’t understand and wonder why they didn’t explode over here.
The two songs I’ve posted are great. New Orleans Is Sinking (great classic rock sound) and Ahead By A Century. The Tragically Hip is an institution in Canada, and still something of a cult band everywhere else… I love cult bands such as Big Star and The Replacements so that is fine with me but it’s not fair.
This song was inspired by a conversation lead singer Gord Downie had with a cab driver in New Orleans. The driver explained the basics of life and survival, saying something like “you gotta eat—it’s just little bones”, which stuck with Downie. This was their second album and it did great. It peaked at #1 in Canada but failed to chart on the Billboard album chart. The song peaked at #11 in Canada in 1991.
They got their name from Elephant Parts. That was a video by Michael Nesmith (Monkee guitarist) and they heard it in an Elvis Costello song (Town Cryer) also. Gordon Downie said: “There’s one skit in there that is sort [of] like a TV plea: ‘Send some money to the Foundation for the Tragically Hip.’ And that phrase has also appeared in an Elvis Costello song. It crops up every now and again, and it’s just a name that we like.”
They formed in 1984 in Kingston, Ontario. They were together until 2017. They have released 13 studio albums, one live album, one compilation album, two video albums, two extended plays, and a boxed set. In 2017, lead singer Gord Downie passed away.
Little Bones
It gets so sticky down hereBetter butter your cue finger upIt’s the start of another new yearBetter call the newspaper up
Two-fifty for a highballAnd a buck and a half for a beerHappy hour, happy hourHappy hour is here
The long days of Shockley are goneSo is football Kennedy-styleFamous last words taken all wrongWind up on the very same pile
Two-fifty for a decadeAnd a buck and a half for a yearHappy hour, happy hourHappy hour is here
I can cry, beg and whineTo every rebel I findJust to give me a lineI could use to describe
They’d say, “Baby, eat this chicken slowIt’s full of all them little bonesBaby, eat this chicken slowIt’s full of all them little bones”
So regal and decadent hereCoffin-cheaters dance on their gravesMusic all it’s delicate fearIs the only thing that don’t change
Two-fifty for an eyeballAnd a buck and a half for an earHappy hour, happy hourHappy hour is here
Well, nothing’s dead down here, it’s just a little tiredNothing is dead down here, it’s just a little tiredWell, nothing’s dead down here, it’s just a little tiredNothing is dead down here, it’s just a little tired
Oh baby, eat this chicken slowIt’s full of all them little bonesBaby, eat this chicken slowIt’s full of all them little bonesLittle bonesFull of all them little bonesAah, little bones
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