RAISE A LITTLE HELL by Rick Mercer
I was maybe twelve years old when my sister brought the Trooper album Thick as Thieves into the house. I remember listening at her closed bedroom door as she played it with a friend. Being a little brother, admission to her bedroom was strictly prohibited at all times. One track captured my attention. The song was telling me to throw caution to the wind, to be bold, to take drastic measures if need be. It was telling me to seize the day.
The next morning I did just that. I had a stomach ache, I had a headache, and I didn’t feel well. There was no end to my symptoms and no end of excuses. My early acting skills were on bust and I somehow convinced my parents I wasn’t up to the rigours of school and should stay on the couch for the day.
Once my father was out of the driveway, I leapt into the unknown. I was in my sister’s bedroom like a shot. This was a high-risk operation; the consequences of entering her room were dire, and touching her record collection and record player was a crime that was probably punishable by death. It didn’t matter. The music demanded it.
For the next few hours it was all Trooper, all the time. I played “Raise a Little Hell” over and over again. I played air guitar, I sang along, I danced, I became the front man in a rock and roll band. I remember thinking, This is my favourite song! I have a favourite song! I decided that “Raise a Little Hell” would be my favourite song forever.
Turns out I was right. As I grew up, I went through a Top 40 phase, a Motown phase, an extended punk rock phase, a singer-songwriter phase. My tastes are eclectic and vast but “Raise a Little Hell” still holds the title of favourite song.
Professionally I have used the song more than any other piece of music. When I was on This Hour Has 22 Minutes, I shot a music video on Parliament Hill that involved all three major parties, the prime minister, and the opposition leaders, all urging young people to vote.
The music I chose was “Raise a Little Hell.” The lyrics were perfect. The leaders, the caucuses, and the young people sang along to the words with gusto:
If you don’t like what you got why don’t you change it.
If your world is all screwed up, rearrange it.
Raise a little hell.
In the very first pitch meeting for the Rick Mercer Report, I said that the only thing I knew about the show was that the theme song would be “Raise a Little Hell.”
That never came to be—we needed a song that sounded like a current affairs program, not a rock anthem. But the song showed up in the show consistently over the next fifteen years. It was always there, in the background or foreground.
And when I finally wrapped up the show, when I said goodnight for the very last time, “Raise a Little Hell” played under the credits as I walked out of my studio. That was a big moment for me. I was glad that song was the soundtrack.
“Raise a Little Hell” has been with me my entire life. To me, it is the ultimate Canadian rant set to music.
To this day when I perform live, when I walk on stage and off stage, that’s the song that plays. I once got pulled over for speeding. When the officer asked why I was going so fast I told him—“Honestly? Trooper just came on the radio, ‘Raise a Little Hell.’ I got carried away.” He said, “Best excuse I’ve heard in a long time,” and let me go.
It is and has always been my personal anthem. It is a radio-friendly rock and roll hit from the past that not only speaks to me but also gives everyone
great advice. Words to live by in the face of adversity, or during difficult times.
In the end it comes down to your thinking
And there’s really nobody to blame.
When it feels like your ship is sinking.
And you’re too tired to play the game.
Nobody’s going to help you.
You’ve just got to stand up alone.
And dig in your heels and see how it feels to raise a little hell of your own.
When they throw my ashes into the wind, feel free to play this song and play it very loud.
For the lyrics by Brian Smith and Ramon McGuire, and the production by a young Randy Bachman: thank you, Trooper.
Rick Mercer is a comedian, television personality, satirist, and author from St. John’s, Newfoundland. He is best known for his work on This Hour Has 22 Minutes and the Rick Mercer Report, both on CBC TV.