The Tragically Hip

I am nearly Canadian.

Being born and living in the border town of Detroit for much of my life, and spending many summer days of my youth at a cottage in Ontario, is just the start.

I learned hockey by watching CBC and Don Cherry. I worked at Roots for a spell. But my most Canadian pursuit was my fully completely embrace of The Tragically Hip.

The band never reached epic heights in the States. But in Detroit and Buffalo, the group routinely sold out arenas and sang to a crowd of 20,000. The fact that the band never reached a Pearl Jam or REM status made them even more special for me.

Like I was fabulously rich. Like I came from downtown. Like I was in on some secret that my fellow Americans had missed.

It's been nearly nine years since Gord Downie, the lead singer for this beloved alt-rock band, moved to the lonely end of the rink. His passing was sad but peaceful. Grace, too.

Just 53. The cause was terminal brain cancer.

The group gigged around Canada throughout the 80s and eventually earned a record contract after then-MCA president Bruce Dickinson caught them live in Toronto.

"Gord Downie is definitely in the tradition of great Canadian poets," Dickinson told the National Post in 2016. "There can be a certain darkness in the lyrics, in some ways that reminded me of reading and listening to Leonard Cohen or Robertson Davies. I think that's all part of what appeals to Canadian fans. They're five Canadian guys who go up on stage, and they look like their audience. I think that everyman quality matters."

As the poet laureate of Canadian rock, Downie spent three decades as Canada's voice and provided much of the soundtrack of my life.

From helping me grow up and appreciate the broader world to helping me get over girlfriends.

The Hip is still on the web, and I can carry their music on my iPod Classic, but the world is a little less magical without Downie.

His mastery of language and ability to craft colorful lyrics served as a guidebook. Knowing it takes more than another caller with a bachelor degree to grasp what is happening.

Maybe more Americans will discover his work and come to embrace The Tragically Hip.

But probably not.

So let's raise a glass of milk to the end of another day.

This band was ahead by a century and knew life is no dress rehearsal.

Speaking with The New York Times around the band's final show, Broken Social Scene's Kevin Drew summed up the Tragically Hip's influence: "We're a country that hasn't really embraced its history just yet. We're still trying to figure out what makes us Canadian, and we have one of the loudest neighbors in the world, so this band helped a country, and Gord helped people lyrically, slowly start to try to define themselves."

Enjoy the ride + Plan accordingly.

-Marc

Seven PMs in 10 years

Ten years ago this week, Britain voted to leave the European Union. Today, it is moving on to its seventh prime minister since that vote. Seven leaders in ten years, in a country that gave Thatcher and Blair more than a decade apiece.

I keep coming back to one image from Monday. As Starmer announced his resignation outside Number 10, protesters nearby were blasting "Ode to Joy," the anthem of the European Union he was elected, in part, to make peace with. A decade on, and the argument is still loud enough to play over the prime minister's own exit.

There is a tidy story people tell about this, left and right, depending on who they blame. I am less interested in the blame than in the churn itself.

Something happens to a place when it loses the thread of its own story. The leaders cycle through. The slogans change. The anger stays. And underneath it all is a quieter loss, the slow draining away of the belief that anyone in charge can actually move the thing they were put in charge of moving.

I have watched many organizations go through their own smaller versions of this. A founder leaves. A new one arrives. A strategy gets announced, then reversed, then announced again under a different name. Everyone is busy. Nothing compounds. The people inside stop believing the next announcement before it is even made.

The thing about a Brigadoon, the place idyllic and unaffected by time, is that it only stays magical because it knows what it is. Britain spent a decade trying to decide what it is and is still deciding.

When the upheaval comes for you, and it will, do you know the story you are telling well enough to keep telling it after the applause stops?

-Marc

Brigadoon | Know What's Next.

The wilderness

A longtime friend and Brigadoon participant gifted me a copy of the book Steve Jobs in Exile. I'm no Steve Jobs, but I have certainly been in the wilderness, and this book has unleashed creative and professional clarity I haven't felt in many years.

Being in the wilderness has been a profound gift. Even with the mental challenges, confusion, uncertainty, and a level of physical activity that at times resembled a sloth's, like Jay-Z, I went on to the next one. I kept the faith, with projects brewing and ideas simmering. A big part of my ability to move forward was due to the friendships, adventures, and conversations that happened at Brigadoon gatherings.

When we gathered at our last event at Sundance Mountain Resort, I recognized that we had built something rare: a room entirely stripped of corporate posturing, devoid of PowerPoint slides, and free of predictable networking nonsense. We gathered to challenge each other's thinking, learn new ideas, experience different perspectives, and figure out what's actually next.

As I look ahead to the upcoming Brigadoon gatherings, including a salon dinner in Detroit, a remote week in Scotland, and our flagship winter camp in Utah, I am formalizing plans to help Brigadoon alums propel this community toward year-round connection. 

For those who want an expanded experience, I have created the Brigadoon community model with four professional tiers to sustain this environment and keep this global collective humming.

If Brigadoon has been a meaningful space for your growth, your leadership, or your sanity, I invite you to choose your tier for the year ahead to help sustain Brigadoon's future activities:

Ranger ($500): For the curious professional who wants to stay ahead of the ideas shaping commerce and culture.

Participant ($2,500): For the professional ready to show up in the room, and done with conversations that don't happen at conferences.

Explorer ($5,000): For the professional who goes further, geographically, intellectually, and in commitment to the idea.

Patron ($7,500): For the rare professional who doesn't just attend Brigadoon. They sustain it.

Go all in if you can. Explorer at $5,000 moves this forward fastest. But the Participant tier at $2,500 guarantees your spot at Brigadoon Utah Winter Camp, and that's where I'd love to see most of you. Too much right now? Ranger at $500 sustains the effort and gives Brigadoon a solid foundation. Pick what works for you. Every tier keeps the conversations going.

I'm reaching out to the nearly 350 alums who have been central to our conversations over the years. You can select your path and lock in your professional tier here.

Thanks for helping build this room and having these conversations. 

Let's keep it going.

Enjoy the ride + Plan accordingly.

-Marc

Marc Ross | Founder + Chief Curator @ Brigadoon

Brigadoon Professional: Claim your spot here.

50 Negronis Is Out Today

The first book from Brigadoon Studios is here.

A few years ago, in Terminal 3 at SFO, I ordered a Negroni. It was bad. Wrong glass, wrong proportions, the kind of pour you get in a place nobody chooses and everybody just passes through. I drank it anyway.

The woman sitting next to me watched the whole thing and said two words: "Bold choice."

She was right, though not the way she meant it. The drink was a mistake. Ordering it there, expecting anything, was the bold part. That's when I started paying attention — not to the Negroni, but to the rooms where it shows up.

Today that attention becomes a book.

One drink. Fifty bars. Three ingredients — mostly.

50 Negronis is the same drink ordered at fifty bars across twenty-nine cities, nine countries, and four continents. Equal parts gin, Campari, sweet vermouth. The recipe never changes, but it always does.

That's the whole trick. Because the recipe is fixed, it cancels out.

What's left is the variable: the bartender's hands, the light at four in the afternoon, the regular who won't move from his stool, the city outside the door. Local ingredients and tweaks. The Negroni is just the control in the experiment.

The first Negroni that mattered was at Hotel Il Pellicano. The one that solidified this project was the bad one at SFO. Between those two pours is the idea the book is built on — that a drink you can't change is the best possible way to see everything around it that does.

Not a ranking

This is not a ranking. Nobody wins. I'm not going to tell you the best Negroni in the world, because that's not an interesting question.

The interesting question is what fifty versions of the same three ounces can tell you about fifty places — and that's the book.

Volume One

50 Negronis is the first title from Brigadoon Studios. It's Volume One, which means there's more coming, and it means the project doesn't end on the page. If you order the drink somewhere worth remembering, send it our way with the tag #50Negronis.

The book is available now.

Enjoy the ride + Plan accordingly.

-Marc