Please, carry on. Live, the riser rotates so he can use different portions of the kit. It numbers 20 acoustic and electric drums and 18 cymbals in this dimension, but can tally up to 10, pieces in some extradimensional realities. I believe his drum tech is a theoretical physicist, molecular engineer and "Star Trek" fan who posts in online forums at least 35 times daily.
Note, "Drum Solo The Percussor " is listed as a "song" there. Although the band has been playing pretty much the same three-hour-long set for more than a year, I won't reveal any other songs, fearing crucifixion by the Spoiler Police. One assumes this is the only way he can use every piece of hardware surrounding him on stage.
Seems low. Our hearts are broken to learn of the loss of Neil Peart. We extend our thoughts and condolences to his family, friends, bandmates and fans. Neil is a legend we will not soon forget.
Thank you for entertaining and inspiring fans here in Smashville and around the world. But, of course, I had a very unique relationship in Rush and these guys were my friends for over 40 years and to make music with your friends is a blessing of a different kind.
Consequently, not only did it make for brutal stress in the studio, but it would prove to be just as difficult to perform the material live. By the time the album was finished and on store shelves, the guys were less enthused in subsequent promotional interviews.
Instead was a prevailing sense of relief by a very exhausted band. The incredible thing about Hemispheres , though, is despite the complexity of the material and the strife surrounding the making of it -- they famously remarked that one song took longer to record than the entire Fly By Night album -- Rush is in absolute peak form, the music shockingly accessible, effortless sounding, and best of all, fun. Yes, fun. Lushly produced -- you can hear how expensive the damn thing was -- there's so much more texture on this track compared to the hard-driving "" and the experimental "Xanadu," thanks to Lifeson, who doesn't rely on heavily distorted riffs anymore, making room for cleaner melodic lines to breathe.
In addition, although Peart sounds as taut as ever, there's a grooviness to his drumming that was never heard on a Rush album before. Whether or not his sixteenth beats on the hi-hat are derived from disco, they lend liveliness to Lee's playful vocal melodies. It's the moment Peart learned to relax a bit, and that restrained approach would lead to some fascinating experiments with minimalist drumming in the years to come.
Although Peart's mythical sci-fi storyline, which continues where the first "Cygnus" track left off at the end of A Farewell To Kings , is nowhere near as concise and interesting as "," the natural flow of the music more than makes up for it. It's a surprisingly beautiful, commanding suite by a band at the peak of its game. As strong as that song is, the second side is where Hemispheres ' true greatness lies, featuring three songs that have since gone on to become enduring fan favorites, not to mention some much shorter songs.
One could criticize "The Trees" as being painfully blunt hesher metaphor -- " The trees represent society , man! It might come as a surprise to some that it took Rush five albums to record an instrumental, but it finally happened on Hemispheres , and "La Villa Strangiato" is not only the first, but it's the band's greatest. Self-deprecatingly subtitled "An Exercise In Self-Indulgence" -- again, one of this band's great characteristics is its sense of humor -- the song is a lively and playful musical depiction of a surreal dream Lifeson had, consisting of a series of movements that range from soulful to cartoonish.
One section even dares to quote Raymond Scott's legendary "Powerhouse," and as the story goes, despite his not taking legal action against the band, Rush were still good Canadian boys and sent Scott monetary compensation anyway.
It's as fun a progressive rock instrumental as you will ever hear and for years was a highlight of many Rush live performances.
It's amusing how Hemispheres would be criticized for its self-indulgence, yet at only 36 minutes it's an incredibly economical progressive rock album. That can be seen also as a by-product of the band being completely out of ideas, unable to stretch things out to a more conventional 45 minutes.
But the shortness of the album works in its favor, making it easy to absorb the four songs. Still, it was on this album that the members of Rush knew they'd hit a creative wall. They'd taken their blend of progressive rock and heavy metal as far as it could possibly go, and it was time for a change, and although the series of albums that would follow would be a direct result of avoiding the headaches that dominated Hemispheres , it would be the smartest, most financially rewarding decision Rush would ever make.
Because of the creative freedom Rush was afforded, especially in the wake of its breakthrough commercial success in , complacency never set in. Lee, Lifeson, and Peart might have been overjoyed with how the smash success Moving Pictures turned out, but they were so restless, so eager to branch out stylistically, that it never even occurred to them to make a Moving Pictures Part Two. Still, despite a few clues at the end of that record, there's no way fans could have anticipated what the follow-up would sound like.
Although in retrospect it is a logical extension of what Rush was doing on Moving Pictures , Signals is nevertheless the most audacious album of the band's career, which would dare the staunchest rock fans to follow the trio into more synthetic, electronic territory. Ironically, just as heavy metal was on the verge of exploding worldwide thanks to a new generation of bands and young fans, Rush, a band that influenced many if not all those bands, was heading in a completely different direction.
Instead, the band was drawing from such artists as Talking Heads, Peter Gabriel, and U2, learning that stripping down the music to near skeletal form, exploring texture rather than power, can be just as creatively liberating as creating complex progressive rock. And indeed, Signals would be a liberation of sorts. Nothing in the Rush discography sounds like Signals , but at the same time it fits so naturally alongside Moving Pictures and that it hardly feels like an anomaly.
But make no mistake, the band's dynamic was undergoing a serious shift, thanks primarily to Lee's growing preoccupation with cutting edge electronics. His arsenal of keyboards, drum machines, and sequencers was becoming as huge as Peart's now legendary drum kit, and as that was happening, Lifeson's role in the band was becoming less of a focal point than before.
Instead of leading the way with riffs, Lifeson was now playing more of a supporting role, still contributing solos but now, like Andy Summers of the Police and U2's Edge, exploring new, subtler guitar techniques to complement the increasingly synthetic sounds Lee was creating. In addition, Peart's lyrics were now ditching straightforward narratives and philosophizing for more contemporary themes: suburbia, the growing digital culture, control via fear, space travel.
Lee always humbly claimed he was no Keith Emerson, but the keyboard line he comes up with on this song is extraordinary in both its minimalism and its gravitas, gorgeously underscoring Peart's heartbreaking and compassionate depiction of adolescent isolation in the dull suburbs. As for Peart, his own turn toward the minimalist yields arguably his greatest drumming ever on a Rush song.
As he demonstrated on "Tom Sawyer" a year earlier, it's much more effective to serve the song rather than overwhelm it and to pull out the powerful drum fills for dynamic effect, and his quirky syncopation on "Subdivisions" is extraordinary in its expression.
Rush always had a particular appeal to social misfits, but "Subdivisions" and its accompanying video would win over a new generation of adolescents. Poll the band's Generation X-aged fans, and many will say this song is among their favorites. That's far from the album's sole highlight, however.
Two songs on Signals in particular are tremendous examples of Rush's creative peak during this era, yet couldn't be more different. The mood is pensive, sentimental, and rosy-hued, Peart's depiction of a lovestruck young dreamer echoed beautifully in the music, which shifts gracefully from nimble hard rock to ethereal, warm synth-based passages.
Conversely, as "The Analog Kid" exudes warmth and humanity, "Digital Man," as its title implies, is taut, nervous, and chilly -- for the third consecutive album that Police influence rears its head -- and Peart's protagonist is a worker reduced to an automaton, living for his work, incapable of interacting with humanity, knowing it's all going to come to an empty, unfulfilling end "He's got a date with fate in a black sedan" , but all he can do is lose himself in his work "He won't need a bed -- he's a digital man".
The second part of the "Fear" quadrilogy kicked off on Moving Pictures , "The Weapon" is a tour de force for Lee, who builds the song with layers of sequencers and synths, Peart providing a propulsive kosmische musik pulse that slowly morphs into a Moroder-style dance beat, Lifeson adding faint traces of accents and melodies via guitar.
Originally started as a last-minute attempt to even out both sides of the cassette version of the album, "New World Man" might have been more rushed 'scuse the pun than usual, but its delightful, sprightly hooks connected with radio listeners, topping the chart in Canada, peaking at 21 in America and 36 in the UK.
Two deep cuts never get as much attention as the more popular Rush classics, but nevertheless help elevate Signals to the upper echelon of the discography. The last song thus far to feature lyrics written collaboratively by all three members, "Chemistry" is a sublime marriage of rock, new wave, and electronic music. Even more underrated, though, is the gem "Losing It," a surprisingly tender ballad highlighted by beautiful electric violin solos by Ben Mink of Toronto prog band FM.
The song has never been performed live, which, considering the string section that toured with Rush in and , now feels like a blown opportunity. As is often the case with an album that refuses to be compartmentalized, Signals was misunderstood by many critics, with J.
Considine of Rolling Stone going as far as to write, "Signals is chockablock with state-of-the-studio gadgetry, ranging from the requisite banks of synthesizers to the latest in digital recording and mixing, none of these electronic add-ons enhances the group's music.
If anything, Rush emerges from this jungle of wires and gizmos sounding duller than ever. After a promising start to its career, Rush was flagging. Sales of the third album Caress Of Steel were stagnating, audiences didn't know what to make of the band's lengthier, more complex new material, and Mercury Records in the United States was none too pleased.
They wanted something more commercially viable -- not science fiction epics that took up an entire side of a record. When Rush's fourth album in two years was released on April Fool's Day , however, the joke was on Mercury. Lee, Lifeson, and Peart risked their careers sticking to their guns: there was no hit single, and half the record was a colossal minute suite.
Yet unlike the previous album, it all came together in beautiful and spectacular fashion. Everything about is iconic. The succinct title. The minimalist album cover. The Ayn Rand-derived plotline about an individual standing up against oppressive government, with Hugh Syme's classic accompanying "naked man" image. And most importantly, that timeless title track, which raised the bar for both heavy metal and progressive rock. With its opening whooshes of synthesizers performed and assembled by Syme -- who was better known in Canada at the time as the keyboardist for the Ian Thomas band -- "" immediately lets the listener know that the album will be a full-on excursion into fantasy and sci-fi.
However, the Rush people hear on the song's "Overture" is more assertive, aggressive, and -- crucially -- economical than ever before. Lifeson's immediately catchy riffs have a bite to them, and Peart's thunderous drumming is the most forceful he's sounded on record to date.
Lee, meanwhile, gives voice to the album's antagonists with an ungodly shriek, spouting lines about computers, hallowed halls, and Temples of Syrinx.
Even for a genre as uncool as progressive rock, this was particularly, unapologetically nerdy. Yet Peart makes the story work, and the plot is reflected exceptionally well by the instrumental arrangements. Listen to the "Discovery" movement, when the protagonist finds a guitar. Lifeson's own playing at first sounds curious and awkward, then gradually learns chords, slowly metamorphosing into a pretty little song, with Lee abandoning vocal histrionics for more innocent singing "What can this strange device be?
As soon as the young hero expresses his despair over an equally tortured sounding arrangement, the song blasts off to its incendiary conclusion, a raucous jam that, as Peart would explain years later, represents the defeat of the oppressive Temple by invaders: "Attention planets of the Solar Federation: we have assumed control.
If there's one minor criticism of , it's that side two is a virtual afterthought compared to the title track. That said, all five songs are very strong, the best of which being "A Passage To Bangkok," a wry little poke at drug tourism by Peart that's bolstered by a wicked, exotic lead riff by Lifeson. Upon the release of , all the pieces fell into place for Rush.
Progressive rock and album-oriented rock were at an all-time peak. The band's fanbase was now in the hundreds of thousands, a direct result of relentless touring in support of Caress Of Steel. Knowing they had a much better album to promote, Lee, Lifeson, and Peart hit the road even harder, and as a result peaked at number 61 in America, their first album to crack the top Rush had also graduated from opening act to occasional headliner, and a three-night stint in Toronto would yield the much-loved live album All The World's A Stage , which would be released six months later.
Most importantly, would see Rush completely come into its own, kicking off a series of eight landmark albums over the course of the next decade, and including a pair of live releases, a whopping ten consecutive platinum albums. Second in sales only to 's Moving Pictures , is, justifiably, universally beloved by fans.
It's one for the ages. Neil Peart likes to think of Moving Pictures as Rush's proper first album. Up until , Rush's career trajectory, while yielding several excellent records -- and the odd important one -- was a gradual process of discovery. Like every other band, the trio started off sounding derivative, then came the smart combination of progressive rock and heavy metal, and when they were finished with that, they attempted to find a perfect balance of prog, rock, and new wave.
It wasn't until "The Spirit Of Radio" in where things started to feel truly right, and with the resultant Permanent Waves album in Lee, Lifeson, and Peart collectively realized yes, this is the music we want to make. Released in the middle of a period where Rush completely changed what a rock trio could do with eight significant albums, Moving Pictures was the moment where all aspects of the band's now rich musical palette achieved a perfect balance.
Heavy rock, yet with pop sensibility. Guitar-driven, yet utilizing cutting edge electronics. It sounds warm and crystalline, yet leaves room for ambiguity. Experimental, literate, poetic, catchy, accessible. Moving Pictures opens with a bang, or more specifically, the ominous, commanding whoosh of Lee's Oberheim OB-X synthesizer, as the esoteric "Tom Sawyer" makes an immediate impression.
The most unlikely of crossover hits, "Tom Sawyer" was, and remains, a fascinating oddity. Musically its tone is more menacing than anything Rush had released before, yet dynamically brilliant, the deep growl of keyboard and the snarl of Lifeson's seminal riff offset by moments that range from playful Lee's quirky repeated six-note synth melody to the avant-garde Lifeson's free-form solo , all the while anchored by Peart's precise, understated beat, which is just as catchy as the keys and guitars.
Meanwhile, the lyrics, written by poet and Max Webster lyricist Pye Dubois and refined by Peart, are refreshingly vague for a hard rock song, a fascinating portrait of a modern day rebel, tapping into the theme of individualism that Peart always liked to do. Culminating in one of the greatest climaxes in rock history, Peart's restraint giving way to a spectacular series of drum fills and cymbal crashes, "Tom Sawyer" is Rush's most celebrated song, one the band -- especially Peart -- says is a joy to perform to this day.
It's from one classic song to another, and another, and another, as side one of Moving Pictures refuses to let up. Cleverly constructed around the Morse code syncopation for the airport identification code of Toronto's Pearson Airport, "YYZ" is just as complex and playful an instrumental as "La Villa Strangiato" from three years earlier, but is far more concise, not to mention wickedly catchy and half as long. Compared to side one, which is as perfect a first half of a record as you will ever encounter, side two is much subtler, but ultimately those deep cuts are just as rewarding as the previous four concert staples.
Inspired by the work of John Dos Passos, "The Camera Eye" might be 11 minutes, but it's far from the Rush epics that dominated the s. It's understated throughout, the band's arrangement clearing space for Lee to sing Peart's lines about New York and London, the thrumming and buzzing synthesizers very similar to what Laurie Anderson would explore in more detail that same year. The first in what would eventually be a quadrilogy that explores various aspects of fear, "Witch Hunt" sees Lifeson cleverly shifting his dominating riff to menacing and metallic to more elegiac new wave melodies.
In contrast to that somber track is the vivid "Vital Signs," which not only revisits the reggae-tinged new wave sounds inspired by the Police, but anticipates further exploration in minimalist, electronic territory, which would result in the nearly-as-great Signals album a year later.
If that wasn't enough, Hugh Syme's cover art for Moving Pictures is just as wonderful as the music inside, its inspired use of triple entendre an apt reflection of the band's own collective sense of humor. Movers are hauling paintings in front of the Ontario Legislature -- literally moving pictures -- while a camera crew films them, creating moving pictures of their own.
If that wasn't enough, bystanders are witnessing the proceedings and weeping, visibly moved by the pictures before them. The surprise success of "Tom Sawyer" -- peaking at 44 in America, 25 in Canada, 24 in the UK -- would help catapult Moving Pictures up the album charts, peaking at number three in both America and the UK.
It's Rush's biggest-selling album, and for good reason. In a career that's seen constant experimentation and evolution for more than 40 years, Moving Pictures was the one moment where all factors crystallized perfectly. Never content to rest on its laurels, Rush would continue to break new ground in the s and beyond, but this will always be the band's defining moment, an unmitigated, undeniable classic.
Scroll down as we examine their 19 studio albums, from 's muscular self-titled release the only album featuring original drummer John Rutsey to their more long-form late-'70s breakthrough, from their hitmaking, synth-laden '80s period to a series of remarkable late-career triumphs. Then tell us how we did. Home News.
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