Lisa McDonald Sits Down With Dan Hill

Lisa McDonald is back with another in-depth interview, this time with singer/songwriter and now celebrated author, Dan Hill. Lisa knows what questions to ask, and brokers a lively interview with whoever she has in her sights. Please feel free to add your comments after you read this interview, Lisa will appreciate the feedback. Part 2 follows tomorrow.

The Dan Hill Interview Part 1

By Lisa McDonald

Leaving America to escape racism, Daniel G Hill III and his wife Donna Mae decided on Canada as the country to live and raise a family.  In addition to younger brother Lawrence and sister Karen, the couple gave birth to Dan Hill IV, in June of 1954.

Growing up in Don Mills, Ontario, Dan Hill, who would later reach international stardom, began writing songs at the age of 14.  A gifted child, Dan always knew he was a good singer.  But living under the enormous shadow of his father wasn’t easy. Daniel G Hill III, sociologist and civil servant, was not only a World War II veteran but was widely known as the “father of human rights” after becoming the first director and then commissioner of the Ontario Human Rights Commission. Dan Hill, Sr. also served as the province’s Ombudsman and received the 2001 Order of Canada from Governor General Adrienne Clarkson for his outstanding work in human rights and Canadian black history.

Yes, the fourth Dan Hill had a lot to live up to.  And like many teenagers, challenged and rebelled against his father.  Although both his parents were supportive of his musical talents, Dan’s father didn’t realize just how successful his son would become.  After endless practicing in the basement with his childhood friend Paul Quarrington and playing the coffee houses of Yorkville, Dan eventually had two albums under his belt.  But it wasn’t until his third album, Longer Fuse, released in 1977 that Dan became known around the world for the enormous hit, Sometimes When We Touch.  Co-written with legendary Barry Mann, Dan Hill watched his hit record reach No. 3 on the Billboard charts, be translated in Swedish and Chinese, and be covered by many artists including Tina Turner, Tammy Wynette, and Rod Stewart.

Sometimes When We Touch became bigger than life.  As a writer contributing articles to MacLeans magazine, you can read what Dan really thinks of “that song” in this year’s January edition.  Mr. Hill’s career has been a long and successful one, earning him both Juno and Grammy awards.  But upon his father’s death in 2003, Dan lost his passion for song writing.  To work through his grief, he decided to write a book instead.  I Am My Father’s Son, is a poignant and moving memoir about the tumultuous relationship between Dan and his father.  A book written with such honesty and love, that this writer had tremendous difficulty putting it down.

Dan Hill, Sr. always said to his first born, “you got a book in you, boy” and with the release of this book, Dan’s father is proven correct.  Dan’s sister Karen grew up to be a poet and Lawrence Hill (pictured here) is the critically acclaimed author of Black Berry, Sweet Juice and The Book of Negroes. And Dan soon returned to song writing, not only working with George Benson, Jeffrey Osbourne, and Celine Dion, but he’s also recorded a new album of his own called Intimate, due out in March. Today, at the age of 55, Dan Hill having been diagnosed with diabetes at the exact same age as his father, is living a life of balance.  Between writing, recording and performing, Dan keeps a very busy schedule and stays physically fit by running 15 to 20 kms every other day.  But earlier this year, Dan suffered another devastating loss when cancer took the life of his close friend, Canadian novelist, playwright, screenwriter, filmmaker and musician, Paul Quarrington.

Weeks before Quarrington passed away, Paul and Dan wrote a new song together called Are You Ready, which can be heard at Dan’s website.  Upon meeting Dan Hill for this interview, I was greeted by one of the warmest, kindest and funniest men I’d ever met.  And thanks goes out to Dan for saving the day with his Sony cassette player when, in the middle of the interview, my digital recorder ran out.

I see you’re still a resident of the Beaches neighbourhood.  I use to live here myself in the eighties, moving around from street to street when I lived in shared accommodations.

Yes, I’ve lived here since the seventies.  And I use to move a lot too, because I kept getting kicked out of places.

Really? Why?

I got kicked out of everywhere because I looked like Charles Manson.  I had the hair, the beard and the intense eyes.  Especially older women, they were scared of me.  They thought I was a homicidal maniac.

Dan Hill, the man who wrote Sometimes When We Touch, a homicidal maniac.  Now that’s funny!

It was 1972.  And I was always getting thrown out of everywhere because of how I looked.

And in 1972, I believe the Manson trial was actually still going on.

Yes, it was a big thing that scared the bejesus out of everybody.  Friends of mine, like Barry Mann, lived in California, right down the street from where Sharon Tate and the others were slaughtered.  And me, who didn’t look white and didn’t look black, with hair down to here and intense eyes… well, people thought I just had to be a lunatic.  But it could work to my advantage too.  I could travel all around the world, and no one would approach me because I looked weird and dangerous.  People would go to the other side of the street.  And people thought I was poor. One time, I had this guy (laughs) ask me to push his car up Hollywood Blvd because it had stalled and after I helped him, he turned to me and said, “here’s two dollars, you look like you need it”.

(laughs) I think it was around 1986 when I saw you in the Beaches one day.  It was in a restaurant called The Nose.

Oh yea?! That was a great restaurant!  I loved that place.  But it moved to Leslie and Queen.  A lot of jingle guys use to go there; top players and composers who make their living in the jingle business.

I talked about the jingle business not long ago in an interview I did with Lou Pomanti.

I’ve seen Lou at the Nose.

We talked about how it’s become really difficult to make money in the jingle business.

I don’t really know the jingle business too well; only that it’s just like the book business or the record business; really competitive and only a small amount of people make crazy amounts of money.  At least that’s the way it was back when I knew people doing it.  My brother in law just won an Emmy for a kid’s show called Sixteen; he writes the music for it.  He was a songwriter and producer for a long time but for the last ten years he’s been composing for movies and television.  As a composer, he’s doing great, better than ever.  It’s hard to be just a musician any more.

Everyone is suffering.

Well, not everyone.  My brother has sold 400,000 books in this country.  And my best friend in America who I write with all the time, Keith Stegall, is a brilliant songwriter and producer.  Do you know who Zack Brown is?

Uh-uh.

Keith Stegall (pictured here) signed country artist Zack Brown to his label when he was virtually unknown.  Zack Brown, in his early 20s, is a great singer songwriter, not unlike the singer songwriters of the 70s.  And Keith, by the way, is a goddamn genius.  He discovered Alan Jackson and produced all his records and he discovered Randy Travis as well.  Three years after Keith signed him, Zack Brown’s record sold two million copies.  Two million copies in less than a year, and he just won the Grammy for best new artist.  So, some people aren’t suffering.  I mean, you have to work your ass off.  All the songwriters I know in Nashville, who are my age and started out when I did, are making millions of dollars writing songs.  They didn’t blow it on drugs, chicks, and cocaine.  They are incredibly disciplined.  I guess what I’m trying to say is, a lot of people may be suffering but then why does someone sell 400, 000 books in a world where it’s said black fiction doesn’t sell?  How does Keith take this unknown country artist and turn him into million seller?  I wouldn’t want to work for a record company, a book company, or a newspaper but I know a lot of singer songwriters who are making a pretty decent living.

But the market is saturated with music that’s not very good.

The problem is you run into artists who want to be the next Rhianna, and you can’t think like that.  You have to be authentic.  Like Jully Black.  She’s the best selling black R&B singer in Canada because there’s no one else like her.  Why does Stuart McLean of the Vinyl Cafe do so well?  Because no one else is doing what he’s doing.  And there’s no one like Joe Sealy.  He’s in a world all his own.  My point is, you have to find your niche.  But if you’re an A&R person or a promotions or publicity person at a record company or a book company, God help you.  80% of them aren’t working in the field anymore.

Speaking of books, I absolutely love I Am My Father’s Son.

Why, thank you.

I cried my eyes out.  I laughed.  And I cried my eyes out.

Well, thanks for reading it.

I wasn’t sure I would finish the book before I met you, but I did.  Once I started, I couldn’t put it down.  It’s so well written.  I was completely drawn to the honesty of it. When your father died in 2003, you said you could no longer write songs.  You realized your whole life was spent trying to please your dad and when he died, nothing could really motivate you. But then you wrote this book.  What were some of the reasons for writing it and once it was finished, was it easier to get back to song writing?

I think one of the reasons I wrote it was because I spent fifteen straight years writing songs for other artists.  It wasn’t like I wasn’t open and honest doing that, but there are certain parameters you have to follow when you’re writing songs for people like Michael Bolton, 98 Degrees or Jessica Simpson.  I loved the discipline and the boundaries but god, I was really missing the days of 1975 when I could write anything I felt like. People may have hated or loved it, but at least it was pouring out of me unfiltered. I needed to get back to that.  And the only real way for me to do that was by writing a book.  Half way through the book, I found my musical legs again.  I just needed a break.  I was broken and writing the book made me feel closer to my father.  It was a way of healing, and he was always alive while I was writing it.  Like when you read a biography, say of Truman or John Lennon, they seem alive when you’re reading it.

There are many stories in your book recalled from a time when you were really young.  Are you one of those people with a great memory or did you keep a journal while you were growing up?

The mind is amazingly pliable.  The more I exercised it, and I’m not talking the new age way, the more I remembered.  It just sort of comes back as you touch that part of your memory that’s there, but not there.  Gradually it opens up and comes tumbling out.  But I do have a reputation in the family as the one with the best memory.

Well yea, you’re writing about stuff from when you were six.

I said to my brother Larry (who’s a brave son of a bitch, much braver than I ever was), “do you remember the time when you were 12 and you went up to dad and said, ‘Dad, I don’t like the way you’re treating mom.  You’re being too domineering, too authoritarian.”  Man, I thought he was gonna get plowed! I couldn’t believe he had the balls to say that.  I could never have done that.  Pulling the newspaper up between them, my dad said, ‘I advise you to keep your opinion of your father and mother to yourself’.

I’ve noted the words domineering and authoritarian.

And stifle was a big word back then too, ya know, because of All in the Family.

I could relate to All in the Family.  My father was also domineering, especially with my mother.

It’s hard; seeing that as a child.

And I was rebellious too.  Being “the baby” of the family, my siblings would always say, “I can’t believe you got away with that.  I could never have said that to daddy.”

Well, my sister could get away with a lot more too.  My father loved women and showed tenderness toward females.  Although dad was very domineering, Karen could get away with stuff that Larry and I could never get away with.

And your parents were very much in love, deeply in love.

Oh yea!  They were unbelievably in love, right to the end.

But your mother, an intelligent, spirited, and independent woman felt stifled in her role as a stay-at-home mom during the mid-60s. And when you were 11 years old, she was hospitalized for a mental breakdown; diagnosed with manic depression.  And being the era it was, no one dared talk about it. I was particularly drawn to this paragraph in your book… “if my view of women changed after Mom’s breakdown – that women were fragile and in constant need of protection from men – my view of men, and more specifically of husbands and fathers, changed as well.  Maybe Dad did hasten Mom’s breakdown, or maybe, judging from our family history, Mom’s breakdown would have happened in any event.  But what remained beyond speculation was Dad’s behaviour once Mom fell ill.  Indeed, if anything positive could be gleaned from Mom’s hospitalization, it was simply that a man, a real man, is always there, without fail and whatever the circumstance, for his family, for his wife.  Always.” This touched me deeply because I think love and support goes a long way in helping a depressed person.  But unlike your parents, people today seem to give up far too easily on relationships.”

I think what happens to mothers when their children go off to school is, they suddenly have too much time.  My mother who’ll be 82 in March is astonishingly bright.  But it was really hard for her to live under the shadow of my father.  Yes, she did want to break free and do things on her own.  But she had certain issues with her mental health, so it was really hard to do despite being highly intelligent.

And you couldn’t really talk about it then.

No.  You still can’t talk about it. (laughs)  There’s still a real stigma about mental health.  I’m trying to break down the barriers by doing benefits.

But I feel the opposite.  I see depression all around me; more and more advertisements for anti-depressant medications are popping up on television and posters for therapist hotlines grace the boards of subway cars all over the TTC.

But those are commercials.  Let me put it this way.  When I talk to my friends, whom I love dearly, I will be very open about certain things to do with my family and mental illness.  But it’s not until I start talking about mine that they’ll say, “well I have a brother…” I’m not criticizing, but most people I know won’t be the first to say.  People just don’t tend to talk about this kind of stuff.  Every family has something; schizophrenia, bi-polar, or depression; some to the point that they can’t even function.  When you think about the circle that you work and live in, review in your mind how many people actually talk about an uncle or a mother, or…

Come to think of it, among people I know, I’m probably the one who talks about it the most.

There you go.  You do strike me as a person who is very open.  And as far as the ads go, pharmaceuticals are much more ingrained into the economy than before.

Would you say most people, on some level, are depressed?

Well, this whole notion that we have to be happy is a ridiculous notion.  I mean, let’s be honest.  Paul Quarrington (pictured here) as you know, died just two weeks ago so of course I’m really sad about that.  I’m devastated.  And while I was crying in his office, my therapist says, “you have issues with abandonment”.  I said, “this isn’t fucking abandonment.  Paul’s my best friend and he’s going to die.  Why are you going on about abandonment?”  All this is to say, there’s a lot in life to be sad about.  And the notion that if you’re sad there must be something wrong with you, is extremely absurd.  Having said that, I’ve been on Prozac since ’97.

You have?

Yes, and I think it’s really helped me.  The problem with depression is it gets hard to do anything.  You know if you go for a walk you’ll feel better, but sometimes you’re too depressed to go for a walk.  You know if you write a story, you’ll be engaged writing the story but you’re too depressed to write. Sometimes the pills can turn you around just enough so you can do things on your own.  In my case, what Prozac did was turn me around just enough to engage more in life.  And the engagement in life made me happier.  It certainly opened up my song writing to an astonishing degree.  I’m not saying it was specifically because of the Prozac but, depression and anxiety overlap and it’s the anxiety that can throw you off your focus.  It was by focusing that got me writing songs more heavily and got me into running more heavily.  And any study in the world will tell you, exercise is better for your mood than both therapy and pills combined.

I’m thinking about that paragraph in your book again… “if anything positive could be gleaned from Mom’s hospitalization, it was simply that a man, a real man, is always there, without fail and whatever the circumstance, for his family, for his wife.  Always.” Even with so much love, you mother still had a breakdown.

Because it was chemical.

It was?

Yes.  And it was the same for her mother, her twin sister, and her brother.

And your sister.

Yes.  There’s a file on the Hill’s that’s this thick!  (laughs)   But my depression is mild compared to others.  I think what everyone needs are three things:  a human connection; and that connection can come in the form of someone that you really love who is creative like you, like my friend Paul Quarrington was for me.  It could be a romantic connection.  Or it could be a connection with your brother and mother, which I also have.  The other thing I need is a consistent creative outlet.  It doesn’t mean I have to be creating great work, but I have to be creative almost every day.  It’s what makes me happy.  There’s no question I’m a bit of an oddball.  I’ve always been a bit quirky.  But I have to embrace creativity as a way of life, whether it’s writing songs, articles, or books.  And the third thing I need is physical exercise. I’m addicted to running.

There was a car accident that happened when you were quite young, travelling to see family, whereupon the quick actions of your father kept everyone safe.  Like many children, we see our parents, especially our fathers, as our larger than life protectors who can do no wrong.  Was there a particular moment when you saw your father as flawed and imperfect?

Absolutely.  It wasn’t like one of those uh-ha! movie moments where suddenly everything changes with a cinematic scene.  I saw my father as larger than life through my teenage years right up until I was in my twenties.  But when I saw him cry, it was a big turning point.  I saw him as more human then.  My father was diagnosed with diabetes at 40, the same age I was diagnosed and the same age my brother was diagnosed.  But diabetes didn’t really catch up to my dad until he became Ombudsman of Ontario between 1983 and 1988.  This is when we really started to worry about him.  But he would never say anything or tell anybody or talk about his diabetes, which made it worse.  And when his blood sugar started bouncing up and down, and particularly when it went real low, he would cry.  The brain is the first thing to go because it really needs the sugar.  He wouldn’t know where he was and he’d start shaking and crying.

Witnessing your father’s battle with this disease, did you learn how to take better care of your own diabetes?

Definitely.  And I feel way stronger, sharper, more energetic and alive as a 55 year old then when I was 35.

And you run all the time?

Yes, I ran eight miles last night.  Basically I get up at 6am and write first thing because that’s when I’m most creative.  I write and I do business.  Every day there’s something going on with a song.  Like two days ago, someone asked for Sometimes When We Touch for a movie where a cellist would play it for thirty seconds but they’re shooting the scene the very next day.  And if you don’t get back to them in a microsecond, they’ll just use another classic pop song like Fire and Rain or You’ve Got a Friend.  So between doing business, writing songs, banging out articles, practicing for shows, finishing demos and performing, by 5pm I look forward to my run.  And then I don’t want to talk about music or my career for the rest of the day.  I love what I do but some days can be intense.

I would think it would be easy to get so involved with your work, you’d forget about your insulin.

I’m extremely routined.  You can’t mess around with diabetes.

And you look great.

Well, I don’t know about that.  I had some of my teeth knocked out when I was biking really hard and when I had them replanted, the dentist said, “they’re not all the same length, but I can file them down”.  I said, “but will filing them down make any difference to my health?” “No,” the dentist said. “Will it make any difference to how I eat?” Again, “No.”  “So why would I do this?”  “For aesthetics,” he says.   I said, “Fuck that, I don’t care.”  But recently, while shooting the video for How I Feel, the first single off the Intimate record, man, everyone kept saying “your teeth are crooked!”  (laughs)

I think the crookedness adds character.

It’s like shaving your chest or dying your hair, no.

(laughs)

I don’t expect my wife to do anything unnatural and I’ll be damned if I start dying my hair.

It’s the world we live in and not long ago I got caught up in that show Nip/Tuck.  I started having dreams about breast implants! (laughs)

One day they’re going to look back anthropologically on our society and say, “these people were practicing self-mutilation.” Honestly.  They’ll look at breast implants and call it self-mutilation.

What do you think your father would say had he had the chance to read your book?

My dad always said, “Son, you should be writing.  You got a book in you, boy!”  He had this thing that we were all meant to be writers.  But I think he would have had mixed feeling about my book.  He would have been touched by it, moved by it, and impressed by it, but at the same time there are certain things he wouldn’t have agreed with.

Would it have surprised him, some of it?

It was hard to surprise my father. Although I did surprise him as a musician because he never thought I would make a dime.  But would my book have surprised him?  Well, my brother had put some of my story in his book, Blackberry Sweet Juice.  And my dad was still cognizant enough at that point to have read my brother’s book, so I think poor Larry got the brunt of being the first to open the door.  I just took it further.  I think he would have been proud of it and argued with me over parts of it but in every family, members will see things in different ways.  My sister sees the family dynamic totally different than my brother and my brother and I see the family dynamic in exactly the same way.  And my mother sees it totally different than my brother and me.  I’ll say, “you know mom, I love you and I will always love you.  But sometimes we have to agree to disagree and sometimes I’ll do things you’re not going to like, but hopefully what anchors this family is unconditional love.” She said, “Dan I love you, but I hate your book.”  Toronto Life did a story on my brother and the writer called me up and said, “man, does your mother ever hate your book!” (laughter).  “She said you were really unfair about your dad.”  My dad was a formidable debater to say the least, and as I mention in my book, unbelievably funny.  The thing is, my mom would often beat my dad in an argument because she was smarter than him on an intellectual level, but he would turn it back on her with his amazing sense of humour.

Quick-witted, huh?

Oh man! But I think my dad would have been happy I wrote the book.  He always said, “Son, you’ve got a book in you.”

But I don’t think he meant a book about him.

When I toured with Art Garfunkel, Art said “the place I hate playing the most is New York City.  Right over there next to Carnegie Hall is where my dentist is and right over there is where my grade 6 music teacher is.  I don’t like playing in my home town.”  There’s nothing I can write or say that’s going to enlighten my brother, my sister, or my mother.  They’re not the audience I’m going for.  Elspeth Cameron, a magnificent writer who wrote about discovering she was a lesbian after being married for four years, caused her family to stop talking to her for like, ten years.  Elsbeth got in a lot of trouble.  So did Hemmingway.  But you have to tough it out, like when I wrote the song, Are You Ready with Paul Quarrington.  Paul said, “let’s write a song about me dying of cancer”.  I thought, I don’t want to do this.  I’m going to break down. I love this guy.  The beauty is you just write it and don’t think of where it’s going.  When I wrote the book I couldn’t think about people reading it because it would have scared me too much.

The Dan Hill Interview with Lisa McDonald concludes tomorrow…

About Lisa McDonald: “I’m a city girl. A vegetarian who enjoys yoga, pilates, and cycles to keep active but live music is my real passion. All things music really, and I’ve been known to write about it.. I value a strong work ethic and good manners, but what really turns me on is confidence and experience.”