Review Summary: Embracing the absurdity of poetry with a pep in Downie's step.
Gord Downie is someone you might not know a lot about. They say a person’s writings, musings, and idiosyncrasies says a lot about them. 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. In a good way, of course. Coke Machine Glow lives quietly in his discography as an emblem of his juvenile transparency, his love of setting, and his benevolent spirit.
At its best, this album imparts its strange, sometimes provocative wisdom in an undulating sort of way. You’re in the middle of these dialogues, like in "Vancouver Divorce," where Gord brushes off what he’s experiencing, normalizing it. But you can still hear him quivering, exasperating over syllables, almost not wanting them to end. He makes it work in "Trick Rider" too, talking to what seems to be his son. 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. 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.
Other songs bring you out of the song, into his words fully. The beautifully constructed "Insomniacs of the World, Good Night" is soothing and melancholy all at once. He recalls, quietly, the visions of his youth—getting close to the mic, feeling the flow of the piano, the vibrations all around. Once he starts singing, the world freezes in his final faithful plea. "Mystery" is much the same, except in a much more glowering sense. A much eviler tune is in the background, and Gord doesn’t sound amused. It’s very scary, considering its odd placement on the album.
Of course, these metaphors and experiments can get him in trouble too. Instead of feeling as strong as other songs, "Nothing But Heartache In Your Social Life" comes off as being soap-boxy. Is he attempting to do his best Eminem flow? Also, the music is just distracting. Let me listen to you, Gord, and please slow down. In "Lofty Pines", there’s this cheesy representation of love through unmotivated, droning vocals, dull instrumentation, and very little is left up to the imagination. It’s not moving me like other tracks on this. And I would love him to elaborate on the song "Elaborate." It’s not only too short, its vague, and it’s a bit too sparse in the lyrics department to rely so much on the instruments (not very interesting either).
I think the great moments on this album hit and hit hard. It’s easy to get attached to his melodies and his whimsical phrases. It’s what set him so apart from his contemporaries and especially in the realm of Canadian music. He was a kooky dude with a lot on his mind and, damn, did he say it. That being said, he falls into pitfalls of being too much into his own head or being straight up vague. He lowers the standards on some of his songs and gets away with the bare minimum. I chalk it up to style, an experiment, and you can too if you’d like.
Does this require or replace the need for the actual poetry book? No, I don’t believe that. I think it makes a nice companion to have at your side. Though that might make it easier to find the faults. Take it as this: Gord Downie tore down poetry from its throne, French kissed it, and danced off to make his own. This is the result.
