It’s very scary, considering its odd placement on the album. A much eviler tune is in the background, and Gord doesn’t sound amused. "Mystery" is much the same, except in a much more glowering sense. Once he starts singing, the world freezes in his final faithful plea. He recalls, quietly, the visions of his youth-getting close to the mic, feeling the flow of the piano, the vibrations all around. The beautifully constructed "Insomniacs of the World, Good Night" is soothing and melancholy all at once. Other songs bring you out of the song, into his words fully. That’s such a unique experience, a sad one too, but not something that’s commonly reflected on as an example for speaking about a father and son relationship. He uses such beautiful language in the first stanza, but as soon as the chorus comes it’s about…not wanting to watch him do tricks on his bike. He makes it work in "Trick Rider" too, talking to what seems to be his son. But you can still hear him quivering, exasperating over syllables, almost not wanting them to end. You’re in the middle of these dialogues, like in "Vancouver Divorce," where Gord brushes off what he’s experiencing, normalizing it. Coke Machine Glow lives quietly in his discography as an emblem of his juvenile transparency, his love of setting, and his benevolent spirit.Īt its best, this album imparts its strange, sometimes provocative wisdom in an undulating sort of way. In the 20 or so years that the Tragically Hip plinked around in the studio, it’s safe to say that many of his fans knew he was quite the sardonic, self-aware son of a bitch. They say a person’s writings, musings, and idiosyncrasies says a lot about them. Gord Downie is someone you might not know a lot about. Review Summary: Embracing the absurdity of poetry with a pep in Downie's step.
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