Thank you, Madam Chair.
My name is Gord Sinclair, and I am a member of the Tragically Hip. I want to thank you for the opportunity to speak today.
The Hip set out from Kingston, Ontario, in the mid-1980s, and our journey took us around the world and lasted over 30 years. It concluded where it began, back in Kingston, when our final concert was broadcast nationwide and viewed by a third of the population of Canada.
How did we wind up there?
Over the years, we wrote some good songs, we worked hard and we had great fans, but in the beginning we were beneficiaries of CanCon, the partnership between private broadcasters and government. This was not a handout. For us, it was a leg-up. With the help of our managers, we recorded an EP and got signed to a label and, with their help, we were able to get some airplay on radio. That gave us enough exposure across the country to take the show on the road, as so many great Canadian entertainers have done.
Canadians excel at live performance. The sheer size of the country is our greatest asset. The road is long and hard, with vast distances between gigs. You can't have a day job and aspire to be a performer in Canada. You either learn to love the life and your travelling companions or you break up. The late great Ronnie Hawkins always said that Canadians have to work 10 times as hard to get a tenth as far.
The artists who do endure have honed their talent to a very high standard. Canadian musicians are seasoned travellers. They've learned to play live and to live on the road, and that's what sets us apart. Somehow, during the years and hours of staring out the van window at granite and black spruce, you discover what it means to be a Canadian. You realize that despite its size, distinct regions and communities, there is more that binds us together in this country than separates us. The Hip wrote songs from that perspective. Many of them resonated with our fellow Canadians and enjoy enduring popularity.
Through the travel, the space, the time and the weather, the songwriter searches for meaning and what gives us a common identity. Nations create and preserve themselves through the stories they tell. Words set to rhythm and melodies are our stories. They allowed us to enjoy a long fruitful career until Gord Downie's untimely death.
Walt Whitman wrote, “The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.” In 2022, five years after the loss of Leonard Cohen and Gord, we must ask ourselves where our next generation of poets will come from. How can we help them discover themselves?
Times change. In the 30 years that the Hip were performing, we went from producing vinyl records and cassettes to CDs, videos and DATs through Napster, and to iTunes and YouTube, and now to streaming and its dominant platform, Spotify. Through it all, until recently, there have been live shows to make ends meet, but people no longer buy the physical products our industry produces. In the digital age, people haven't given up on music—just the idea of paying for it. That business model is unsustainable.
We are all stakeholders of the arts, and the future has never been more dire. For years, traditional broadcasters, in partnership with the federal government, have helped develop and sustain Canadian recording artists. The Canada Music Fund provides critical support for music in this country. What will happen if that funding disappears?
Gord Downie wrote in our song Morning Moon that if “something's too cheap, somebody's paying something”. Every song ever recorded can now be streamed for less than $10 a month. The somebodies in this case will be the future you and me when we realize that we've undervalued the contribution of Canadian musicians and songwriters.
There is no better art form to preserve, promote and export our culture than music, but after two years of pandemic-induced venue closures and cancelled performances, our domestic industry is in peril. Artists must see a glimmer of hope for a career in music or they will simply give up. Where will our next Joni Mitchell come from if we abandon our young artists? Artistic development takes time. If we don't actually value something at a level necessary to sustain it, it will surely disappear.
Streaming is here to stay, but the platforms and ISPs must contribute to the long-term health of the arts in some way. They must look on it as an investment. Streaming is a great way for artists to have their material heard, to discover new music and to be discovered, but in an industry that has seen the majority of its revenue streams disappear, how can an artist earn a living? Streaming can help, but regulations must adapt to allow Canadian culture to flourish in the digital age. It has to begin at home.
My worry is that many will give up before they get the chance to find their voice. As much as the global market is important, Canadian artists must also reach their fellow Canadians from coast to coast to coast. In today's environment, there is a place for everyone, just as there is a place for streaming alongside traditional broadcasters and live performance.
Our potential as a creative nation is as vast as the country itself. Songwriters are our best cultural ambassadors. We are compelled to create, to express what we know and what we feel. We need partners in government and industry, including streaming.
Right now, somewhere in Canada, a young artist is searching for their voice, the right bit of melody to go with the perfect words. We need your help to hear those voices.
Thank you, Madam Chair.