I was just thinking of Rush. I went to see Rush a few years ago, because my record label guy in the States really wanted to go. We had crazy good seats. It was fascinating watching the crowd - mostly men - who were so moved by these really esoteric lyrics. I don't know Neil Peart's lyrics super well, but they're not that straightforward to me.

My friend worked at a record store in Burlington and I really liked R.E.M. and a lot of music, but I didn't go to see much. I was 16, so I wasn't in bars unless I knew the band and could get in.

Despite everything that is going on our climate and injustice in our country, we can't forget to come together celebrate the number of times the Tragically Hip helped bring us together and have our hearts moved. That is us honouring the life force, whatever that is. Celebrating is a duty.

As with any music that one feels quite close to, I'm very critical, too. I care a lot. I pay a lot of attention.

[Gord] Downie has become more animated than the early days, but he's still the same charismatic performer. And as a whole, that band is really the result of each individual member. If one member was not a part of it, it wouldn't be the Hip. They're all crucial to the whole thing.

Maybe I'm not giving people in the audience enough credit for actually thinking about what they're singing, but it's awesome when a rock'n'roll groove and melody can transport something from Barometer Rising or whatever [ed: it's from 1958's The Watch That Ends the Night] into [Toronto's] Molson Ampitheatre and have people just owning it.

No offence to Hugh MacLennan, but you don't even have to know or understand any deep philosophy that's being espoused, you can just have the feeling of those words together, and that you know them and can sing along with that melody with your fist up in the air. It's a wild vehicle for sentiment, because it's so powerful on the musical front.