Canada lost a legendary Canadian recording artist, Stompin’ Tom Connors, in 2013. I know all the words to The Hockey Song. Bud the Spud takes me to Prince Edward Island’s potato farms and red mud. Sudbury Saturday Night taught me about bingo, bars, and letting loose with friends. And I know that the Man in the Moon is a Newfie. From Newfoundland, of course.
Actually, at one point in my life, I thought all these songs were written by Elmer Lammadee, a folk singer and local musician in the village where I grew up. Elmer’s stock in trade was singing Stompin’ Tom songs, complete with cowboy hat, boots, and board to stomp on. Every year at the Paddockwood Queen Carnival in March, Elmer would command the stage (a beautifully sectioned-off end of one of the school rooms, complete with rich purple drapes) to guide us through our favourites. When Connors passed, the local media spoke with Elmer about his tribute legacy: http://panow.com/node/310664.
The death of Stompin’ Tom reinvigorated some interesting conversations on the role of music in shaping Canadian identity, the Canadian content laws for radio and television, and the uniqueness of the Canadian story.
As a Canadian historian, and one with a particular interest in place, I use music and lyrics extensively in both my personal writing and in my courses. Students love the perspective brought forward by Canadian musicians, from Stompin Tom to Gordon Lightfoot, James Keelaghan, Great Big Sea and The Tragically Hip. I jig to old Rankin Family tunes and I think the live version of Mull River Shuffle is one of the best get-your-heart-rate-up songs ever performed. The Arrogant Worms gave us The Last Saskatchewan Pirate, which has no historical basis but it’s become the provincial anthem. I play it loud the first day of my classes and the students ‘get’ where I’m coming from immediately.
The list of Canadian music icons and their music about Canada is endless, and growing every day. I sat in delight last year when David Myles came through Biggar, and sang (among other great songs) Inner Ninja. It was the ‘original’ song without the vocal talents of Classified, but I may have loved it even more in the raw. Although it’s not specifically ‘Canadian’ — no references to hockey, the Maritimes, or Tim Horton’s — the song describes an understated determination that seems, well, Canadian.
I do think that I would be the poorer if there were no Canadian content laws governing the airwaves. There is a recognition, a connection, to songs that speak about Canada that resonates with me. Do they make me more ‘Canadian’? Hard to say — I’m not sure that’s possible. I’m so Canadian I bleed red, of course (except when I bleed green, since I live in the green-and-white zone of Riderville, the land of the Saskatchewan Roughrider football team…). But the music gives voice and song and spirit to my Canadian-ness.
Funny how that can drive through your soul at the oddest of times.
Picture this: It’s August 2013 in Munich, Germany. The main hall of a beergarden, and it’s Saturday night. You’ve just finished four back-breaking days of labour, but the conference is finally ended. You’re sitting around a table with friends and colleagues, under the dim light of the dance hall lanterns. Everyone’s laughing and joking and telling stories about their neighbors. You’re halfway through a bottle of… weisbier… and you’re getting all fired up. For the dance… Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you, the Bavarian Biergarten Shuffle…
And onto the stage comes a classic Bavarian biergarten band, decked out in lederhosen and dirndls. And when the evening blows open, after the ‘oom pah pah’ polkas that all sound like ‘Roll out the Barrel’ and ‘She’s Too Fat’, the band busts out their best Bavarian Biergarten version of Bryan Adams’ Summer of ’69.
That, my friends, is when you feel truly Canadian.