They played their farewell concert to a sold-out house at Toronto's Massey Hall on March 30, 2007. Sound board recordings of that and many other shows are available (with permission) at http://rheostaticslive.com. After a string of occasional shows, they released their comeback album, Here Come the Wolves, in 2019.
The Fire
Rheostatics Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Do you recall the fire? The night when you were sick?
You waved your arms and shouted to your father, "Fire, quick!"
You won your first reward, the salty singing sweet of sugar sores.
That house is where we lived till 1986.
I'd surfed on waves of apprehension. Ameliorate the wind.
Apologize for snow. In the place where winter has to go.
The jagged sandy breeze. The insect sucking trees.
The cigarette butt beach rat camoputer van. (You're going nowhere.)
I left at 23 to be whom I might be.
I left for reasons almost spoiled by telling stupid lies.
The window showed his eyes.
The sound of TV, talking suffocating mother's cries...
Now I will not be told. Exploited, tricked, or sold.
You'll burn before I'm old.
I'm a tree that poisons paper. I'm a river that is angry as it's wide.
Is there nothing left to save here? Will we ever know until it dies?
I made the journey home. The house sat as it was.
I wrenched the sill and raped the vinyl. A rough and weathered door.
The cellar drunk on fuel.
The smoke that rose like silver threading spool.
I hate the way you live. (I watched the match-stick breathe.)
And all you failed to give. (And all you failed to see.)
I walked into the flowering fire from side to side to side it swayed.
Beyond the warmest warm the ceiling kisses the walls that kissed the floor.
The orange of the light. The sepulchral white.
When day explodes the night.
The Fire by Rheostatics is a song about the memories of a childhood home and the feelings of disconnection and anger towards the people who shaped it. The lyrics begin with a vivid recollection of a fire that the singer witnessed as a child. The memory of the incident is clear and powerful, and the singer describes the sensation of shouting for help while waving his arms frantically. He also references a reward he received for his bravery, which suggests that something positive also came from the traumatic experience.
The song then moves into a description of the setting of the home, with the singer mentioning the sandy breeze, the insect-sucking trees, and the cigarette butt beach. The singer then describes leaving the home at 23 years old and leaving behind the reasons that compelled them to leave, as they were hesitant to tell the truth. The singer reflects on the unhappy atmosphere they experienced at home, with suffocating mother's cries and the sound of TV in the background.
As the lyrics progress, the singer expresses anger and frustration towards the people who are responsible for their unhappy memories of home. The singer declares that they will not be told or exploited again, and that those who have wronged them will burn before they get old. The singer compares themselves to a tree that poisons paper and a river that is wide and angry.
Overall, The Fire is a powerful song about memories, trauma, and the complexities of family dynamics. It's a beautiful and poignant piece of music that captures the essence of the pain of leaving home and the mixed emotions we all experience when we look back on our past.
Line by Line Meaning
Do you recall the fire? The night when you were sick?
Do you remember the fire that happened when you were sick?
You waved your arms and shouted to your father, "Fire, quick!"
You signaled your father and shouted "fire, quick" to alert him of the fire.
You won your first reward, the salty singing sweet of sugar sores.
You received your first reward, the taste of sweet sugar that made your mouth water.
That house is where we lived till 1986.
That specific house is where we lived until 1986.
I'd surfed on waves of apprehension. Ameliorate the wind. Apologize for snow. In the place where winter has to go.
I had to overcome my fear and anxiety, calm the wind, and apologize for the snow in a place where winter is inevitable.
The jagged sandy breeze. The insect sucking trees. The cigarette butt beach rat camoputer van. (You're going nowhere.)
The rough, uneven breeze, trees being eaten by insects, and a rusty camper van left abandoned on the beach are all things that signify being stuck and not going anywhere.
I left at 23 to be whom I might be. I left for reasons almost spoiled by telling stupid lies.
I left when I was 23 to become the person I wanted to be, even though my reasons for leaving were almost ruined by my own lies.
The window showed his eyes. The sound of TV, talking suffocating mother's cries...
Through the window, I saw my father's eyes watching TV and my mother's cries suffocating the conversation.
Now I will not be told. Exploited, tricked, or sold. You'll burn before I'm old.
I won't be controlled, taken advantage of, or sold out. You will face consequences before I get old.
I'm a tree that poisons paper. I'm a river that is angry as it's wide. Is there nothing left to save here? Will we ever know until it dies?
I am like a tree that's killing the paper, and like a river that's too angry and too wide, but is there anything left here to save or will we not know until it's too late?
I made the journey home. The house sat as it was. I wrenched the sill and raped the vinyl. A rough and weathered door. The cellar drunk on fuel. The smoke that rose like silver threading spool.
I returned home to find the house still standing, but I felt the need to destroy parts of it, like the windows and door, and to set the fuel-drenched cellar on fire. The smoke rising like a silver thread.
I hate the way you live. (I watched the match-stick breathe.) And all you failed to give. (And all you failed to see.)
I despise the way you live your life, and how you refused to understand or acknowledge things.
I walked into the flowering fire from side to side to side it swayed. Beyond the warmest warm the ceiling kisses the walls that kissed the floor.
I walked into the fire, swaying from side to side, and saw the ceiling touching the walls and the walls touching the floor.
The orange of the light. The sepulchral white. When day explodes the night.
The orange color of the flames and the pale white ashes of the aftermath contrasted with the black, dark night.
Contributed by Isabella V. Suggest a correction in the comments below.