Let’s talk about music.
I think that my old man raised me right. He blasted the Stones and the Beach Boys, the Doors and Clapton. This was my rock n roll education. In 1995 all that changed when I discovered the magic of “Can Rock”. The bands were new to me, and some of these artists would have long, fruitful careers (Sloan, Rheostatics). Some bands would release one or two albums and fall into near-forgotten obscurity (inbreds, rusty & salmonblaster). Some would wind up writing pop songs for Hilary Duff and Avril Lavigne (you-know-who). But it opened my eyes to some music that didn’t follow rules. It opened my ears to bands that literally had to play to live. It opened my mind to new ideas. But mostly, it introduced me to Matt Good.
In 1997 everything changed when I sat shotgun riding with my Dad. I remember hearing “Raygun” for the first time, the title track from Good’s new EP. I remember thinking to myself, this is a guy that has a unique voice and will go places. I never thought that he would take me along for the ride. That fall the Matthew Good Band released Underdogs and the single “Everything is Automatic”. I became instantly obsessed. By the time “Apparitions” was released that summer as the third single (and brilliant video), I was seeing Matt Good, Dave Genn, Geoff Lloyd and Ian Brown on the Edgefest stage for the first time, and I knew all the words. That year Chart Magazine named Matt Good the artist of the year (and would go on to feature him on the cover twice more). The fall of ’99 brought forth what would be the height of Matt’s fame when Beautiful Midnight was released. To this day, I count this as a defining example of what an album should be. Diverse and poppy, as dark as it was beautiful, it affected me like nothing had before.
Good promised me something that most other artists didn’t. He promised a whole piece with an album, not just singles. He wanted the entire thing to be a listening experience. He has always put his fans first. He has always spoken his mind. To me, this is a role model. I spent my high school years speaking out and living that “stay true to myself” lifestyle. I saw things differently. I felt there was a song for every day of my life and every feeling I felt. That and he was friends with Todd Kerns and Ryan Dahle from the Age of Electric (which to a teenager was inexplicably cool). He wanted to form this collective of Canadian artists that could all work together, write together and perform together. Eventually, the Broken Social Scene would choose Leslie Feist over Matthew Good, or something to that effect.
By the time the next full length was released (2001’s The Audio of Being), I had entered University. Shortly after came his collection of short stories (which received much more time than my Sociology text book). At this point I had seen Matt perform at least five times. Then something happened. Dave Genn left the band and the unstable structure collapsed. I thought that was the end. No more William Morrison directed videos. No more rants on Muchmusic and websites. Run as far as you want, you’re never going home.
Mr. Good would eventually go on to record two brilliant (and extremely diverse) records, 2003’s Avalanche and 2004’s White Light Rock & Roll Review. He would tour endlessly, usually hitting up my hometown twice a year. To this day I have seen him ten times, and that is most likely only half the times he has been to what most would refer to as my “Hoth-like” home. He has gone from a singer/songwriter with The Rodchester Kings and his acoustic guitar to a reluctant Big Shiny Tune provider to a greatest hits package compiling, label defying, anti-war blogger. This summer he is releasing his final record for Universal, titled Hospital Music. It will feature Can Rock resident Pat Steward (Odds, Limblifter, Bryan freakin’ Adams) on drums for a third time. It will have 15 songs. It will feature cover of a Daniel Johnston song and a Dead Kennedys song. It will most likely be just what music needs right now.
Matt Good came along at the same time that I had really started getting into music. He has been the one constant, my equivalent to Linus’ security blanket. I can almost always guarantee that there will be an outdoor festival he will play, or a crappy dance bar that for one night will be converted into a pillar of Can-rock majesty. It’s nice to have those constants in your life but it’s also great to find new things. I suppose what I’m getting at here is that we’re always going to have those bands that come and go, but if we’re lucky we’ll find the artist that stays with us for a decade or longer. We’ll follow them along. We’ll feel like we know them. Through their music we will, and we’ll find that they too are going through the same things that we are. When Matt’s wife left him for a “coke addled stock broker”, I too was left for no reason by a girl of the same name. I’ve never met the man, and I almost think its better that way. I’d like to think that if I did, all I would have to do was nod and shake his hand.
I think he’d go for that.
See you in the next reel…
Nicholas Friesen is a filmmaker, radio personality and cookie enthusiast.
