Behind the Trooper legacy, Clayton Hill is watching a new generation find its voice
*This is the second part of a two-part conversation from Wednesday, October 7th with my friend, Clayton Hill, who also just happens to be the drummer for Trooper.
In Part 1, Clayton talked about what it takes to keep Trooper sounding like Trooper: the songs, the energy, the audience, and the challenge of carrying a band's music forward, as some of the people who helped create it moved on.
On Saturday, October 10th, Trooper will bring that legacy to the Norfolk County Fair, opening for Finger Eleven at Party On The Track.
Gates open at 7 p.m.
But there's another side to Clayton's story. Because - somewhere along the way, while he was busy being a drummer in one of Canada's best-known rock bands - he also became a dad.
And during COVID, his daughter Chloe decided she wanted to become a singer.
There's something wonderfully appropriate about that answer.
Clayton has spent most of his adult life making music. So when his daughter decided she wanted to try it herself, the idea of telling her not to probably wasn't going to fly. But Chloe isn't simply following her dad's musical path.
Her music is her own — and Clayton is listening to it as a dad, rather than simply hearing it as another musician.
And now the two of them are about to share something neither one has experienced before.
Clayton has played huge stages, toured across Canada and overseas, and spent years helping keep Trooper's music alive.
But this particular first is a much smaller thing. And somehow, that makes it bigger.
There's a whole life contained in that little pause. Because Clayton's story isn't only about the years he's spent on stages. It's also about the distance between the kid who graduated from high school in Campbell River and the musician who somehow kept going.
When he looks back, he can see the jumps more clearly than he could while he was living them.
So now you know how important that joy is to Clayton, and his fellow members of Trooper. But you also know something else.
They're thankful for every opportunity they get to do this for you. And part of them is still doing it for those friends who can't — or don't — anymore.
And part of them is thinking about their families.
Because when the lights and sound are turned off, and the gear is packed away, the rock star disappears for a little while.
What's left is just a human being — a dad, a husband, a friend, somebody going home to the people who matter to him.
That's the part of Clayton's story we don't necessarily see from the audience.
We see the lights. We hear the songs. We sing along. But behind all of that is a life just like ours.
And maybe that's something worth remembering this Thanksgiving weekend.
When you're cheering for those songs you love, cheer for the people up there, too.
Because as much as they love living this life, and keeping those songs alive...
when the lights go out, they're going home to lives that matter just as much as the show.
