GOOD AND READY
Rocker content in Canada
For more than two decades, Matthew Good has been Canadian music’s acerbic voice of discontent, airing grievances through combustible arena anthems with the Matthew Good Band, his socially conscious solo work and his online writings, which tackle politics with a wry, sharp tongue.
As he started a national tour
in support of his latest album Chaotic Neutral, we spoke with Good last month about his time in the spotlight and sabotaging his success.
Q You’ve had a tricky relationship with fame and success, but superficially at least, you seem to be in a better place with it now.
A I don’t always think about it, but when it does pop into your
head it’s interesting to think you’ve been doing it as long as you have and that your success has been basically in one country.
And, given everything that you’ve seen happen in the Canadian
music industry, that you’re still around. It kind of freaks you out.
Q Does it bother you that you never made it in America?
A No. Not at all. When I went down to the States, I was with Atlantic Records, and Beautiful Midnight was released down there, so I did a lot of press junkets. The attitude of the American (press), especially at that time, was very condescending, and it’s something I really didn’t enjoy doing. I won’t lie to you and say there wasn’t a lot of me sabotaging a lot of stuff and being very difficult because of that. I look back on it now and, obviously, in this country I’ve seen different levels of fame and public notoriety. I don’t think I would ever want to have the level of public life over there. I don’t think that’s any kind of life at all. I know a lot of people wish they could live that kind of life, but until you’ve seen it ... .
Q You rejected all four of your Junos. Are you fine with your place in CanRock now?
A That’s fine with me, man. It’s the only time I can think of in Canadian music history where
Canadian bands headlined Canadian festivals and sold out Canadian arenas. And there was more than one band doing it.
Q It’s funny how far we’ve come. Canadians are dominating the American pop world.
A I stopped trying to figure out music years and years ago. There are kids younger than how long ago I tried to figure out music.
Q Speaking of that, you’ve sold nearly a million records in Canada, but it seems to me there was a time where you decided to mentally break from trying to make music, which hit on that kind of mass level. Would you say that’s fair?
A When the band broke up, which, of course, wasn’t a big surprise given that we really didn’t get along, I started down a road of
I don’t always think about it, but when it does pop into your head it’s interesting to think you’ve been doing it as long as you have and that your success has been basically in one country.
deconstruction. I remember the tour in 2001, and we were playing Calgary on my 30th birthday. I remember standing onstage and thinking to myself, “I don’t like this.” I didn’t like the whole dynamic of standing on a stage in an arena. So, yeah, we would play Hello Time Bomb and everyone went crazy, but then we’d do Suburbia and people would just be waiting for the singles. The point is, I looked at my audience and went, “I want to thin this thing out to the point where people are coming to hear album tracks. Not for people to buy beer and freaking listen to Hello Time Bomb every night.” That’s what I’ve been trying to do for 15 years.
Q Would you say it worked?
A Yeah. I mean, people still go nuts when I play Hello Time Bomb, and it’s fun to do, but it allows you space. I mean, I could literally play an entire show and encore of just top 20 or 30 singles without even playing another song. As a performer that places you in a very awkward position: either you play for four hours a night or you’ve got to make some tough choices. Unfortunately, I’m not Bruce Springsteen and people aren’t paying $100 per ticket, so I have to make some decisions.