By Todd Jackson
Sunday, 1 p.m.: Good, but not great. I had a more pensive direction in mind for this album–you know, a subtle judgment of millennial Canada. Tragic but not as tragic as Day for Night almost the poetic stance of Phantom Power but more mature.
Tuesday, 9 p.m.: Hold it, guitars arguing–yeah, yeah. Grind, grind! Work, music, work! And the geography, it’s all here, get it? The pines, trains and Algonquin Park–it’s bleak, alright, barren! I’m Tom Thompson! I’m Tom Thompson and I’m drowning, I’m drowning with Gord!
Monday, 2 a.m.: Tired. I’ve survived another Hip album and my ears are ringing.