If you grew up in the nineties or early 2000s, you probably have a specific memory of shouting about Kraft Dinner or trying to keep up with the rapid-fire rap in "One Week." At the center of that whirlwind was a guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a voice that could jump from a goofy growl to a heartbreaking falsetto in a single beat. Steven Page wasn't just a singer for Barenaked Ladies; for many, he was the soul of the band.
Then came 2009. The split felt like a sudden, messy divorce that left fans picking sides in a way that hasn’t really stopped, even now in 2026.
People still ask: why did he leave? Was it the drugs? Was it the ego? Honestly, it’s a lot more complicated than a tabloid headline about a white powder in upstate New York. It’s a story about mental health, creative burnout, and the slow, quiet death of a friendship that started in a Scarborough summer music camp back in 1988.
The Breaking Point: It Wasn’t Just the Arrest
Most casual fans point to the July 2008 arrest as the smoking gun. Steven Page was charged with fourth-degree criminal possession of a controlled substance after police found cocaine at an apartment in Fayetteville, New York. It was a massive shock. Here was the guy who sang "Snacktime!"—a literal children’s album—getting caught in a felony drug bust.
But if you talk to anyone close to the camp back then, the cracks were there way before the cops showed up.
Page has been incredibly open since then about his struggle with bipolar disorder. He spent years in a cycle of manic highs where he’d be the life of the party and the most productive guy in the room, followed by crushing lows where he couldn't even look his bandmates in the eye. By the time 2008 rolled around, the "affable, goofy Canadian" image had become a mask he couldn't stand wearing anymore.
The arrest was less the cause of the split and more the "final straw" for the rest of the band—Ed Robertson, Tyler Stewart, Jim Creeggan, and Kevin Hearn. They were a global brand. A business. And suddenly, that business was being dragged through the mud.
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A Five-Way Democracy That Stopped Working
Barenaked Ladies always operated as a democracy. That sounds great on paper, right? In reality, it meant every creative choice had to be filtered through five different opinions. Page eventually admitted that his songwriting voice felt "squeezed out."
When you’re the primary engine behind hits like "Brian Wilson" and "The Old Apartment," sitting in a room and having your ideas democratized can feel like death by a thousand cuts. He wanted to do theatrical scores. He wanted to do classical-jazz collaborations. The band wanted to keep being Barenaked Ladies.
By February 2009, the "mutual agreement" was announced. He was out. The band moved on as a quartet, and Page moved to the U.S. to start over.
The Frozen Relationship with Ed Robertson
The most tragic part of the barenaked ladies steven page saga isn’t the lost music; it’s the lost friendship between Steve and Ed Robertson. These guys were childhood friends. They built an empire on their chemistry—that "twin-speak" improv they did on stage was legendary.
If you’re hoping for a 2026 reconciliation, don't hold your breath. Aside from a brief, one-off performance at the 2018 Juno Awards for their Hall of Fame induction, the two haven't really spoken.
- The 2018 Reunion: It was a two-song set ("High School" and "If I Had $1,000,000"). They were polite. They smiled. But the air was thick.
- The Communication Gap: Ed has gone on record saying they basically haven't had a real conversation since 2009.
- The Legal Side: There were reportedly disputes over the use of the band name and royalties that didn't help the healing process.
Steven has compared the band to a marriage. When a marriage ends because of "irreconcilable differences," you don't always go back to being best friends just because the kids (the fans) want you to.
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Is "Barenaked Ladies" Still the Same Band?
This is where the fan base gets tribal. You’ve got the "No Steve, No BNL" crowd and the "Support the Quartet" crowd.
Since Page left, the band has released several albums—All In Good Time, Grinning Streak, Silverball, Fake Nudes, and Detour de Force. Ed Robertson stepped up as the primary lead singer, and the vibe shifted. The music became a bit sunnier, a bit more straightforward "dad rock."
On the flip side, Steven Page’s solo career has been a wild experimental journey.
He didn't just fade away. He released Page One, Heal Thyself (Parts 1 and 2), and Excelsior. He’s toured with a trio featuring a cellist (Kevin Fox) and a guitarist from the band Odds (Craig Northey). His solo work is dense, often dark, and musically adventurous. It’s the kind of stuff he probably couldn't have gotten through the "five-way democracy" of his old band.
"I think they want to keep their identity as Barenaked Ladies and mine as Steven Page, and I'm fine with that." — Steven Page, CBC Interview.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Split
There’s a common myth that the band fired Steve because they were "pious" or "judgy" about his arrest. That's a bit of a reach.
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The truth is closer to exhaustion. Imagine being on the road for 20 years with someone whose moods are unpredictable and whose creative interests have veered 180 degrees away from yours. It’s draining. The arrest didn't create the rift; it just made it impossible to ignore the rift anymore.
Another misconception? That Steven Page hates his old songs. He doesn't. If you go to a Steven Page Trio show today, he still plays "What a Good Boy" and "It's All Been Done." He’s proud of that legacy. He just doesn't want to be a "heritage act" stuck in 1998 forever.
Why It Still Matters in 2026
The reason we’re still talking about this is that the chemistry they had was lightning in a bottle. In an era of over-produced pop, BNL was a group of guys who could actually play and harmonize.
Steven Page’s departure was a pivot point for Canadian music history. It proved that even the most successful "fun" bands have deep, dark undercurrents.
Today, Page is a massive advocate for mental health awareness. He uses his story—the highs of the Grammys and the lows of the Syracuse jail cell—to help people understand bipolar disorder. That might be a more important legacy than "One Week" could ever be.
Lessons from the Page/BNL Breakup
- Success doesn't fix mental health. You can have a million dollars and still feel like you're drowning.
- Friendships have seasons. Sometimes the person you started a band with at 18 isn't the person you should be working with at 40.
- Creative freedom is a trade-off. Page lost the "arena-filling" fame, but he gained the ability to make exactly the music he wanted.
If you want to support what Steven Page is doing now, check out his "Live From Home" sessions. During the pandemic, he started performing weekly via Zoom, and it turned into a massive, tight-knit community. It’s probably the most "authentic" version of Steve we’ve ever seen.
For the band’s part, they’re still selling out summer tours and keeping the brand alive. They found a way to survive, and Steve found a way to live. Maybe that’s the best ending we could have hoped for.
Next Steps for Fans:
- Listen to "Excelsior": Steven Page’s latest solo work is arguably his most mature. It’s worth a deep listen if you miss his lyricism.
- Watch the 2018 Junos Performance: It’s on YouTube. Look at their faces during "If I Had $1,000,000"—it’s a masterclass in complicated nostalgia.
- Follow the Trans-Canada Highwaymen: This is a supergroup featuring Steven Page, Moe Berg (The Pursuit of Happiness), Chris Murphy (Sloan), and Craig Northey (Odds). It’s the closest thing to the "old school" BNL energy you’ll find today.