LIGHTFOOTSTEPS

Almost 3 years ago, when Gordon Lightfoot was really ill, Aengus Finnan commissioned me to write a spoken-word piece for "The Way We Feel: A concert celebrating the songs for Gordon Lightfoot."

This is what I wrote and performed at the concert that year. I haven't done it since. But it's that Massey Hall show time of year and I thought I'd dust it off for the occasion. Here's to you, Mr. Lightfoot.

LIGHTFOOTSTEPS

You're a son of a birch
You're a chip off the old church
C'mon, lift up your drink
To the boys at the rink, if they're still there at all
You should pay 'em a call
You should know that they miss you
Times you've been gone.

Like a bird on the wing:
Always after a new song to sing
C'mon, give us a song
Til the train comes along, if it still comes this way
You know what they say, eh
You should know how a train sounds
It sounds just like you.

Like the tunes that you wrote
All those ones that we all know note for note
C'mon, play us a tune
Like the cry of a loon, if the loons still do cry
You should know how they cry
You know the wherefore and the why
The loons cry for love

You're a lover yourself
It's right there in those records of yours on my shelf
C'mon, tell us of love
Like we're all dreaming of, if we all still do dream
You must know it's a scheme
You must know how the scheme works
You've played it both ways

You've left, you've been left
Just like all of us, we know you've been bereft
C'mon, what do you say
Let's head out to the old carefree highway, if it still runs that way
You can drive to the bay
You should know where that bay is
It's where you're alone

Like the sun going down
Like a lonesome boy stuck on the edge of this town
C'mon, who couldn't guess
At times you were a mess, if it still means a thing
You might still feel the sting
You should know that's alright
It's how stories are made

Like the ones that you tell
The big boat on the big lake lost in the swell
C'mon, you told it so well
How they tolled the old bell, if bells still do ring
You'll still hear them and sing
You should know what that means
To give voice to this land

To the trees, to the snow, to the sand
Sit down old stranger, play that guitar in your hand
C'mon, play like you do
Tell us it's true, if you're still here to play
You're a hero today
You should know that's okay
You should hear
what the ones who have walked in
Lightfootsteps
Are now here to say.

They're here thanking the Lord
For the words and the songs, and the life of you, Gord.
C'mon, a toast has been poured
Lift a glass to that sweet chord, if it's still ringing true
You should know what to do
You should play it for you
And by the way....
Did I mention we've missed you?
Times you been gone...
January 08, 2003.

The Tributaries

It's a wonderful thing to have an opportunity to pay tribute to an artist whose work has helped shape you. I've been involved again, as I was last year with the Gordon Lightfoot tribute concert series in Toronto and Ottawa. The astonishing quality and quantity of Lightfoot's work, the fact that he broke ground for so many Canadian musicians and artists, his pioneering use of Canadian landscape imagery in songs, all make this tribute a well-deserved and deeply rewarding endeavour.

They usually are. The Bob Dylan tribute concert, many years ago now, drew artists from all over the musical map - from Willie Nelson to Tracy Chapman - to acknowledge his genius. Two Leonard Cohen tribute records, one "underground" and one populist, have both produced superb renderings of the poet-songwriter's work. Victoria Williams's cause (she suffers from MS) got great support from the likes of Pearl Jam and Soul Asylum. I just picked up a Tom Petty tribute CD featuring a bunch of lesser-known alternative bands that sound pretty darned good. There have been not one, but two Johnny Cash tribute concerts, both televised, one multi-genre, one country; ironically, the country tribute was posthumous. And of course Borealis released the highly acclaimed Lightfoot tribute CD Beautiful this past fall, with bands from Blue Rodeo to Tragically Hip offering their own renditions of his work to the cause.

All of which is great. I love being involved myself. There's a great sense of pride and honour in giving credit where credit is due. As a songwriter in his mid-thirties, I have the privilege of having been influenced by some real giants - Lightfoot is one - and it's great to be able to express what that has meant. I think the other artists I've worked with have felt the same.

We're all what I call "tributaries," meaning people who pay tribute. That's not an insult - among the more famous tributaries are people like U2, Sting, Billy Joel - songwriters who often show up on other people's tribute albums, as they do on the Tower of Song Cohen CD.

I sometimes think we may be becoming a generation of tributaries. And unlike the little mountain streams whose name I have stolen to describe us, these tributaries don't flow into the big rivers - they flow out of them. Or at least that's how it seems at first glance.

After all, it's Mr. Lightfoot's work that has trickled into ours, right? Not the other way around. Moreover, the chance that anyone (at least any folksinger) from my generation becomes a river so deep and wide is negligible. The landscape has shifted against it. Besides, an artist like Gordon Lightfoot comes along so infrequently, it's almost like the Big Bang of Canadian music: a singular event, and one whose echoes are eternal. So it would be silly to suggest that the tributaries are flowing into the river.

Except for one thing: on Saturday, January 10, Mr. Lightfoot, looking incredibly energetic despite a year spent rehabilitating from a life-threatening abdominal aneurysm, clambered on to the stage at Hugh's Room in Toronto. (He put his hand on my knee momentarily to hoist himself up, as a matter of fact, an old-fashioned gesture I found charming.) An emotional crowd, there to watch a Lightfoot tribute concert, leaped to a standing ovation, as Gordon Lightfoot himself cheerily announced his comeback. The energy was amazing, overwhelming, beautiful. It was a moment I won't forget, and neither will anyone else who was there.

Backstage between acts, Mr. Lightfoot showed the class of a true artist, taking the time to individually meet and thank every artist who had contributed to the event. Again, that mighty river flowed into our smaller creeks and streams.

But as a beaming Gordon Lightfoot ducked out into the cold Toronto night, fans clamouring after him as he went I couldn't help thinking - hoping - that maybe, just maybe, the water in those tributaries flows both ways. Maybe hearing his own work back through the voices of his many admirers helped Mr. Lightfoot a bit when he was beginning to ebb. If so, it would confirm the true nature of the tributary: water seeking its own level. Maybe all of these rivers do, in the end, run down to the same ocean, after all.