I'm so jealous of Gord Downie. And it's not because he's considered a Canadian icon, or knows Harry Sinden, or because he's an independently wealthy rock star in The Tragically Hip.
No, it's because I increasingly get the sense that Downie lives his life in a world of magic realism, where the mundane frequently and suddenly becomes the fantastical and with a simple technicolour whirl of his wrists every newspaper clipping or geographical peculiarity he encounters transforms itself into a song.
Meanwhile, I'm back here down on earth worrying about my cat puking more when it gets really hot outside and trying to figure out why my hydro bill is 20 per cent higher.
In short, I'm jealous because Downie gets to be the art. With each passing year it feels more and more like he's transforming into some kind of art elemental, a living-in-his-own-head supernatural vacillating between our terrestrial world and a more sparkling one of his own creation.
The latest prompt for this jealous bolt would be The Grand Bounce, Downie's third solo record. Produced by Death Cab For Cutie's Chris Walla, it's outwardly the most straight-forward and least "arty" record of his solo career, but that should be considered with some context.
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