One of the defining elements of Canadian culture is a paralyzing fear that Canadians have no culture. This fear manifests in unexpected ways. A visitor to Toronto or Vancouver might be surprised to discover that everyone she meets has somehow memorized an immense, minutely-detailed list of differences between Canadians and Americans. ("I didn't know that Tim Hortons was... so important to you.") She might also be a bit baffled when her host demonstrates encyclopaedic knowledge of every second-rate musician and has-been actor who was born or ever lived in Canada. "Really?" she might say politely. "Michael Sarrazin is Canadian? I, um. Never knew that."

The sense of being under cultural siege by the United States to the south and the United Kingdom across the Atlantic -- two old and powerful countries that have a strong hold on Canadian history and an arguably even stronger hold on our identity -- has some interesting effects on Canadian government policy. This in turn has some interesting effects on the children who grow up here. It was not until I moved away, and then returned several years later, that I realized just how much of my sense of popular culture was shaped by CanCon.

That Meddlesome CRTC

The Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Commission is a government body that regulates the airwaves. Like its American counterpart, the FCC, it handles broadcast licenses, arranges area codes, and manages radio and television content.

But where the FCC is best-known for its crusade to free the airwaves of obscenity, the CRTC's obsession is with maintaining a constant level of "authentic" Canadianness. Right now, in order to keep its broadcast license, every single radio station in the country is required to play 35% Canadian content each week. (That number has risen in recent years: it was 25% in my youth, and apparently it was 30% for a while in the 90's.)

In order to qualify as Canadian, a song must have two of the following: a Canadian composer, a Canadian singer, Canadian production (which means either the use of a Canadian recording studio or, in the case of live recordings, a Canadian concert venue), or a Canadian lyricist. This is called the MAPL system, which stands for the poorly-chosen terms Music, Artist, Production, and Lyrics.

Some exceptions are made for early music and "ethnic" programming, but even the exceptions call for some Canadianness: if the musical selection was recorded before 1972, then it "only" needs one of the four qualities rather than two, and "ethnic" programming (whatever that is) only calls for 7% CanCon rather than 35%. Jazz and classical music stations can petition to have their CanCon requirements reduced, but in any case those numbers will never go below 15%. So if you're a Canadian DJ, you'd better get to know the names of some Canadian violinists.

These rules are in place, according to the CRTC, "to ensure that all Canadians have access to a wide variety of high quality Canadian programming": a lofty goal, to be sure. However, when the CRTC ruled against Bryan Adams in 1991 because he worked with a British producer on his Waking up the Neighbours record, thus diluting the CanCon score, controversy raged. Adams himself declared that the CanCon rules encouraged mediocrity in Canadian artists, since being Canadian was enough to get them played whether they had any talent or not. It also meant that Canadian stars who made it big, such as the execrable Céline Dion and Shania Twain, would be played repeatedly simply because they were "safe choices," ironically hurting up-and-coming Canadian artists who were trying to get a break in the music industry. (And, let's be honest, Bryan Adams himself falls into the "safe choice" category, whether or not he has a point about government-sanctioned mediocrity.)

On listening to Canadian radio

I haven't listened to commercial radio in many years now, but as an adolescent I was an addict -- I didn't know any better. And though I was vaguely aware of CanCon rules at the time, I had no idea just how much it would skew my listening experience toward records that nobody else in the world has ever bought.

Canadians my age all grew up surrounded by music that the rest of you will never have heard of: Honeymoon Suite, Glass Tiger, Kim Mitchell, Zappacosta, Gowan, 54-40, Gino Vannelli, The Spoons, Cats Can Fly, The Parachute Club -- I could go on and on, but I'll spare you. For the most part, these were cheap derivatives of the genuinely popular bands of the time, all of which came from the U.S. or, more often, the U.K. "Platinum Blonde is just as good as Duran Duran," we kids would say -- adding proudly, "and they're Canadian!"

Thinking back on it now, I marvel at how thoroughly we were brainwashed. As I grew older and my musical tastes matured, I recognized that a lot of the bands I liked (and not just Canadian ones) were kinda awful. I quickly learned, too, that comparing Platinum Blonde and Duran Duran is just silly.

Nevertheless, it wasn't until I moved to the U.S., years later, that I realized how much of a bubble I'd been living in. In the company of my new friends, I'd list the 80's bands I enjoyed, and they would always stall when I named a Canadian one. "I loved Frankie Goes to Hollywood too!" they'd say. "But who the hell are Images in Vogue?" If I went music shopping, I'd never even see records by bands that were sickeningly ubiquitous back home. Soon I learned that those albums were never printed in the States, and it was only record collectors and Canadiana fetishists who knew of their existence at all. Note that I had lived quite close to the border before (most Canadians do), and I did not move especially far south when I went to graduate school, so I am not talking about a dramatic geographical shift. But once you cross that border, everything on the airwaves changes.

So does CanCon mean mediocrity?

I am not, by any stretch, saying that all Canadian artists are bad. I doubt that they are much worse, on average, than American or British artists (which is, granted, a pretty bad average, but you see my point). Some of the bands I listed above I still like rather a lot.

Still, I do wonder if Bryan Adams was right. Canadian DJ's are desperate to fill their CanCon requirements, and even the most vapid listeners must get tired of hearing Nickelback all day. I imagine that a Canadian artist will have an easy time getting airplay on Canadian radio, just because they help the guy in the DJ booth reach his weekly quota.

Is this really giving those artists the break they're after? Is Luba better off today because she got lots of CanCon airplay in the 80's? Was Luba denied fame and fortune in the U.S. because of raging imperialism, or was it just because she sucked? I do fear that the CanCon requirements will create a lot more resentment than pride once a music lover makes it past the age of 13. But I also fear that the weight of the music industry in a country with ten times our population might crush good bands who simply don't have the machinery to compete in a lopsided market. CanCon rules may help those people. Maybe.

In other words, for me, the jury is out.

Further Reading

Relevant official documents can be found on the CRTC's web site, here: http://www.crtc.gc.ca/eng/INFO_SHT/G11.HTM
I jogged my memory about a few things from a boring Wikipedia article, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_content