One in five

Steven Page performed on the Regent stage in Picton on Saturday.

Steven Page bares his frailties on Picton stage

Steven Page doesn’t keep much back. The former lead singer and co-founder of the Barenaked Ladies has been under an intense spotlight for much of the past two decades— ever since the release of The Yellow Tape,the first independent release to reach platinum status in this country. They were still kids from Scarborough at the time.

Fifteen million albums and many hits later the Barenaked Ladies remain one of this nation’s biggest musical exports. The music is fun, clever and mostly optimistic— finding its way deep into popular culture through television, films and radio. There is little hint of trouble fermenting in the lives of these successful songwriters and musicians. The illusion fell apart in 2008 when Page was arrested for drug possession in Fayetteville, New York. The following February, Page parted ways with Barenaked Ladies. Since then he has pursued a handful of solo projects—nothing rivalling the popular appeal of his earlier success with BNL.

Last year he began to speak openly about his mental health challenges—particularly the way his “mind is wired.” He has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He doesn’t use his struggles to excuse his behaviours. Instead he employs his celebrity to make it known that a great many folks make their way through life “managing” a mind that has a habit of inexplicably slipping into a deep dark hole.

Page brought just his guitar and cell phone to the Regent Stage on Saturday night in support of the Building Positive Horizons Foundation, an agency that works with children coping with mental illness.

Mental illness isn’t a token theme for Page, but nor does it define the powerfully gifted and successful artist. It isn’t until three of four sets into Page’s performance that one realizes the running patter isn’t just witty and selfdeprecating ad-libbing between song selections. Page is taking his audience on a journey. He has a larger story to tell.

The story comes into clear focus as he introduces the song War on Drugs. The song talks about the sensibility of a community that, in seeking to prevent suicides by desperate people who jump from the Bloor Viaduct, erected a barrier on each side named the luminous veil.

Page lived nearby when the barrier was being erected and recalled the final days with just 15 feet still exposed—and thinking this a compelling temptation. And while he observed the seeming futility of shielding one jumping off point—within easy view of a second bridge just as high—Page noted the basic goodness of a community reaching out to try and catch its fallen. “Just being there is often all that’s needed,” said Page.

He admits to feeling squeamish when people ask him how he is doing—as though he had the flu.

“There isn’t a fix for this,” said Page. “All I can do is manage it. I manage.”

His performance on Saturday night was strong and inspiring. He deftly mixed new songs with a generous sampling of BNL hits. His talent is so profound that his voice and guitar are all he needs to conjure the much-loved songs into a joyous sing-a-long celebration.

Most had come to hear Page play the songs they knew, and Page didn’t disappoint. He has, despite his fame and celebrity, remained very much the Scarborough kid. He knows what it is to be a fan and he is intensely proud that “the songs we wrote in my basement when I was 18” have become emblems of a time and place for so many people.

But while Page delivered the performance the audience wanted to hear— he left the audience in Picton with a story of human vulnerability and durability in managing one’s own mind. It is a challenge that Page says is far more widespread than most care to acknowledge.

Peggy Yates of the Building Positive Horizons Foundation noted that mental illness or addiction affects one in five people in a year.

“Someone around you is hurting,” said Yates.

Page continues to work through his particular demons—he knows they are never too far below the surface.