20 Rush Albums in 20 Days: Moving Pictures

DAY THREE: Rush, Moving Pictures, running time 40:02, released February 12, 1981

So here it is, what many consider to be Rush’s best effort, the album the band themselves played in its entirety throughout their 2010-2011 tour.  Moving Pictures.  So the questions is: does it hold up? 

Um…yeah.  Or…at least half of it does.  Part of it is a masterpiece.  And yet…

Upon listening to it front to back, the first thing that struck me – especially after listening to Hold Your Fire and Presto the previous two days – is just how clean and uncluttered Moving Pictures sounds.  The band was still very much insistent on recording what they could reproduce live, and the result is a crisp mix in which each instrument shines brightly.  Consider Lifeson’s solo on the opening track, “Tom Sawyer.”  Whereas in later years Rush would have added a keyboard part and two additional guitar tracks to emphasize certain moments, here we get the band at its most basic best: a well-executed solo over the clean bass sound of Geddy Lee and the brilliantly recorded “snap” of Peart’s drums.  Perfect.  I’ve heard that Rush were influenced by The Police, and though the music is of course completely different, I can see how the production on Moving Pictures might have been inspired by albums like Outlandos d'Amour and Reggatta de Blanc.

The first side of Moving Pictures is among the best twenty minutes ever recorded.  It has the band’s best instrumental (“YYZ”), among its most melodic songs (“Limelight”), the most identifiable and spirited story (“Red Barchetta”) and, of course, what many believe is the band’s quintessential track (“Tom Sawyer”).  My friend and I used to make fun of Lifeson’s wailing guitar solo in “Limelight,” thinking it completely out of character with the rest of the tune.  Now I think it’s a stroke of genius.  I guess thirty-three years can do that to one’s perspective.

Not so with Lifeson’s work on the closing track of the album, “Vital Signs.”  Here his guitar choices are sloppy and uncertain – not to mention overbearing – almost as if he didn’t know what to do with this foreshadowing of the direction Rush would travel over the next four albums with keyboards taking center stage.  Lifeson would evolve into this role nicely over the next decade.  Here he’s still finding his legs, and the song suffers as a result.

During side two, I enjoyed “The Camera Eye” despite the dated synthesizers, though it does go on too long.  Then I got to “Witchhunt,” a track that for me surprisingly labored under the weight of self-importance and overall drudgery.  I couldn’t help but picture Spinal Tap parodying the first verse of this song: The night is black without a moon/The air is thick and still/The vigilantes gather on/The lonely torch lit hill.  Christopher Guest could have worked wonders with this tune, along with a dancing witch galloping around a black cauldron.  Can’t you picture it?

These are minor quibbles.  Moving Pictures is an excellent album.  Perhaps not as perfect as I remember it, but damn good.  It should not go unnoticed that this album runs at just over forty minutes.  Countless bands would do well to remember that the greatest albums ever recorded stop at around the forty minute mark (or well before).  If Rush had recorded this album just six years later, they would have added two additional tracks, likely encumbering the overall package.  Less is sometimes more.  Just because you can fill 60-70 minutes of a CD doesn’t mean you should (when Aerosmith started releasing albums lasting over an hour – 1993’s Get A Grip – you just knew that things had gone too far).

Tomorrow, I’ll be listening to…drum roll, please…number 2.  Talk about a stylistic change!  Fly by Night is on the docket for tomorrow (only 37 minutes long, too!).  Can’t wait.

20 Rush Albums in 20 Days: Presto

DAY TWO: Rush, Presto, running time 52:16, released November 21, 1989

I’ll never forget the first time my roommates and I heard the new Rush song “Show, Don’t Tell” in fall of 1989.  After the brief drum and synth intro, suddenly there it was: the return of Alex Lifeson.  Rush was back.

The change from Hold Your Fire to Presto is enormous, mostly in terms of production.  Geddy’s penchant for memorable melodies is still in full-force and Neil’s lyrics are relatable and clever, but whereas keyboards were clearly a writing tool for their previous album, on Presto, aided by newly introduced Rupert Hine’s production, keyboards are used to color the sound and not as a lead instrument (except on “Red Tide” and “Available Light.”).  Hearing it with fresh ears, the album still holds up very well.  Unlike its predecessor, Presto doesn’t sound like a somewhat unfortunate 80s relic.

I recall being unhappy with the chorus of the title track back in 1989, thinking the song’s verse’s had been so perfect that the lift required to take the song to the next level was regretfully absent.  With older ears, I no longer consider the chorus a letdown, but rather a terrific example of how music can effectively reflect a song’s lyrics.  As with all of Rush’s releases since 1987, the album suffers a bit from being overlong.  Listening to it front to back, I think that the album could end happily with Neil’s terrific lyrical contribution “Anagram (for Mongo),” perhaps tacking on “Available Light” for a poignant conclusion.  But “Red Tide” and “Hand Over Fist” wear thin.

Presto has been perplexingly unrepresented on Rush’s tours (though perhaps less so after reading Neil Peart’s comments about Rush’s unhappiness with the effort).  Even the 1990 tour only included five songs from the album (compare that with the Snakes and Arrows and Clockwork Angels tours when Rush performed nearly the entire albums), and since the Counterparts tour only “The Pass” and “Presto” have squeezed into the setlist.  I recall seeing the tour at Alpine Valley, WI, and the only song from the album that really bombed was “Scars.”  This is an acceptable album track, but one that should have ever been played live with its multiple pre-recorded tracks.

Back to Neil Peart’s comments, he’s reported to have said that if Rush could redo one album, Presto would be it, as they feel it should have been much better given the material they had to work with.  I’m not sure what they would do differently.  It’s still early in the listening of twenty albums in twenty days, but I expect Presto to be ranked highly in my final tally.

Tomorrow, I’ll be listening to…drum roll, please…number 8.  Well, here it is.  Considered by many to be Rush’s magnum opus.  Moving Pictures.  We’ll see if it still holds up.

20 Rush Albums in 20 Days: Hold Your Fire

DAY ONE: Rush, Hold Your Fire, running time 50:30, released September 8, 1987

While attending Berklee College of Music in 1987, I picked up my first Rush CD (previous purchases had been on vinyl), the newly released Hold Your Fire.  Midway through the album, the guitarist from across the hall inquired about Alex Lifeson’s playing.  I couldn’t lie.  It was almost unnoticeable.  To say Lifeson’s playing on Hold Your Fire is understated would be an understatement.  It’s not only that his guitar parts are less busy than on earlier records (notice the non-solo guitar solos on “Time Stand Still” and “Mission”), it’s also that his guitar sound is so clean and pure and pushed so far back in the mix.  This trend really began with 1982’s Signals, when Lifeson changed his contributions to the band, taking a backseat to Geddy’s keyboard prominence, and Hold Your Fire would cap off this period (captured on the live A Show Of Hands).  Beginning with the next release, Presto, Rush gradually yielded to a heavier guitar sound. 

Despite the change in the band’s sound in the 80s, Rush continued to pump out a quality product.  Sure, some of the synths sound a little dated today – ”Second Nature” is a fine tune, but somehow regrettable in retrospect – but much less so than a lot of what the 80s produced, and the musicianship of Rush’s three members continued to elevate their product above the din of most bands.  Geddy was very much a melody guy at this point in his career (vastly different from more recent albums), and even on songs when the production seems over the top, the tunes themselves are hummable, almost pop-like in some cases.  Aside from “New Word Man” off of Signals, I would argue that there isn’t a poppier Rush song than “Prime Mover” (and a damn good one too, in my opinion.  Best song on the album).

Hold Your Fire includes what Lee and Lifeson have reported as their least favorite Rush Song, “Tai Shan,” and though I still like the song, the album, running at 50 minutes plus, could probably have benefitted from cutting this one.  Since the Hold Your Fire tour, only three tracks from the album have been played in concert, which is too bad.  Rush has a tendency to lean on familiar territory in live performance, but I for one would love to hear a track like “Prime Mover” or “Turn the Page” live. 

The album’s closer, “High Water,” finishes off the CD with a resounding lift, even employing a cheesy modulation for effect (think Barry Manilow), but it works.  I buy into this kind of manipulation hook, line and sinker if it’s done well, and for me, Rush in 1987 did enough well to warrant our attention.  They created excellent melodies with sub-optimal production.  I think if they had to do it all again, they would reproduce this album to make it a little less synthy and a little heavier, with more crunch, more force and more low end.

But still, not too shabby of an effort.

Tomorrow, I’ll be listening to…drum roll, please…number 13.  Aha!  Rush’s very next album, the aforementioned Presto.  It’ll be interesting to hear what changes took place in the intervening two years.  Until then...

Twenty Rush Albums in Twenty Days

Often I find that opinions are based on conclusions made long ago, reinforced only by repeating the opinion rather than through reexamination.  How many times have you revisited a TV show from the 70s or 80s only to find that, “Hey, Fame was actually embarrassingly bad – no wonder Mom didn’t watch it with me”?  Some things age well (The Dick Van Dyke Show, wine, Eddie Cochran), and some don’t (The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Kool-Aid, The Monkeys), and sometimes opinions do a complete one-eighty (upon further examination, ABBA and The Bee Gees have gone up several notches in my book).

A few years ago, I listened to what I had previously concluded was among Rush’s worst albums, Grace Under Pressure, and lo and behold, I liked it.  I hadn’t listened to it in years, and I realized that my prior opinion was likely based on a memory I’d made twenty years earlier.

It is with this spirit that I am going to embark on a 20-day musical journey, limited in scope, though spanning forty years.  I’m going to listen to all twenty of Rush’s studio albums, one per day, and reevaluate them.  To do this, I’m going to attempt to press reset and ignore any conclusions I’ve already drawn about each album.  If you asked me today, I’d likely say the two best Rush albums are Moving Pictures and Permanent Waves and the worst are Feedback and Caress of Steel.  But who knows?  Perhaps with a clean slate and fresh ears, I may find new gems (and new clunkers) in Rush’s catalogue.

Here are the ground rules:

1)      I will listen to one CD – not album – per day by drawing a number out of a hat, each number corresponding to the Rush album sequence.  1 = Rush, 2 = Fly By Night … 19 = Snakes and Arrows, 20 = Clockwork Angels.

2)      I will listen intently and uninterrupted, wearing head phones and performing no other tasks except perhaps jotting down a note or two.

3)      Each day, I will write a short review of the listening experience.

4)      After twenty days, I’ll attempt to place each Rush album in order from best to worst through the eyes of a 46 year-old me, recognizing that the sequence could change again down the road.

I’ve already drawn the first number.  Tomorrow morning I’ll be listening to album number 12, 1987’s Hold Your Fire (the first Rush album I’d ever purchased on CD).

Can’t wait.

Hodgson in Milwaukee

Prior to his performance on Saturday night at the Northern Lights Theater in Milwaukee, I hadn’t seen Roger Hodgson grace the stage since his final tour with Supertramp in 1983, and it was hard to believe the same man could belt out the same tunes as forcefully as he had three decades ago.  Sporting a white shirt and black vest, Hodgson alternated between keyboards and acoustic guitar, backed up by a four-piece band and a largely superfluous 17-piece orchestra. 

Beginning with “Take the Long Way Home,” Hodgson stuck largely to his Supertramp repertoire, performing each of his songs from 1974’s breakout album Crime of the Century and the mega-hit Breakfast in America, along with several from the intervening albums.  Particularly surprising were the inclusions of “Easy Does It” and “The Two of Us” from 1975’s Crisis?  What Crisis?  Notable absences on this particular evening were songs he performed on other nights of his four-night run in Milwaukee: “A Soapbox Opera” and “Even In the Quietest Moments.”  That he mostly ignored his solo career was a little disappointing, as I would have loved to have heard “Had a Dream” and “In Jeopardy” from his debut solo album, and I wish the Supertramp song “Crazy” would have been part of the setlist.  Also oddly absent from the evening was electric guitar.  Hodgson is a master at the tasteful solo or well-placed wail – placing him in the same category as David Gilmore – but these parts were instead arranged for the orchestra, whose presence was most appreciated on “Fool’s Overture,” Hodgson’s epic composition from 1977, and “Hide in Your Shell” from Crime of the Century. 

Roger seemed genuinely pleased at both being able to perform his old material at such a high level and by the audience’s reaction.  Supertramp made their North American debut in Milwaukee, and back when radio stations had more leeway to support particular artists, Milwaukee was one of the band’s hubs.  Hence the four successive shows at Northern Lights, an intimate theater that allowed Roger to give special dedications and wishes to various members of the audience between songs.  When he was with Supertramp, Hodgson and fellow singer/composer Rick Davies yielded audience interaction duties to saxophonist John Helliwell.  Now Hodgson takes on these duties himself, and he seems more comfortable in his own skin today than when he was at the height of his career. 

Hearing Hodgson’s band faithfully reproduce the parts originally played by Dougie Thomson, Bob Siebenberg, John Helliwell and Rick Davies only made me appreciate how adept the original band was at creating a “sound.”  Tastefully understated parts made the whole bigger, and though they may not have been household names, these guys what they were doing.  Current woodwind virtuoso Aaron Macdonald blew through recognizable solos from tunes such as “The Logical Song” and “It’s Raining Again,” and it highlighted how innovative and integral John Helliwell’s contributions to the original band were.  Drummer Bryan Head played behind a drum shield of Plexiglass, and while this may help with sound separation, it was visually unappealing.  More intricate bands have managed happily without one, and I wish sound engineers would employ other techniques to improve their live mixes.

Back in 1979, when Supertramp temporarily ruled the Billboard charts, “Take the Long Way Home” was a favorite of mine, but when I heard Hodgson sing it on Saturday, the following lines hit home harder than they ever had before:

When you look through the years and see what you could have been

Oh, what might have been

If you’d had more time

When I last saw Hodgson in 1983, I was fifteen, and the world’s expanse was limitless, the future so vast, I could hardly contain the very thought of it, my arms unable to open wide enough to embrace what lay ahead.  I no longer feel that way.   I suspect Roger doesn’t either, but it was cool to see a man happy to revisit the past for an evening and share it with an appreciative audience.