Showing posts with label 2112. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2112. Show all posts

CD Review: Rush - Clockwork Angels

CD Review: Rush - Clockwork Angels 
Roadrunner Records
All Access Review: A-
Rush - Clockwork Angels 2012
Revolution is in the air again for Rush, lo these many years since the people of the Solar Federation were freed from 2112’s dystopian, artless existence and the fascist Priests of the Temples of Syrinx were removed from power. Flexing his literary muscles, Neil Peart spins an epic yarn of adventure and wonder throughout the new Rush sci-fi concept album Clockwork Angels, a work of grandiose progressive-rock architecture that’s suffused with steampunk imagery and traffics in many of the same themes that dominated 2112 – namely, the insidious nature of repressive, totalitarian rule and the subtle erosion of individual freedoms that occurs under such governance. Somewhere, Ayn Rand is … well, barely cracking a smile.
Peart’s protagonist is a boy who fantasizes of escaping a peaceful, idyllic rural paradise to explore the world and find the famous City of Gold: Cibola. “I can’t stop thinking big,” the child exclaims in the mystical chorus to “Caravan.” Neither can Rush, apparently. A wonderfully constructed maze of rampaging, complex riffage, melodic magic and quick-shifting rhythms and tempos that introduces Clockwork Angels, “Caravan” rolls on into the roaring maw of “BU2B.” One of the heaviest tracks Rush has ever produced, along with the grotesquely sinister and oily “Carnies” that also inhabits the record, “BU2B” introduces us to the Watchmaker, the supposedly benevolent dictator whose orders are carried out by the Regulators, the suppliers of energy to a populace taught to “believe in what we’re told.” Is the narrative starting to sound familiar? It should.
As our hero encounters a dangerous anarchist, joins a carnival, finds love and loses it by idealizing “a goddess, with wings on her heels” in the tender and reflective “Halo Effect,” and then survives a desert of extreme cold and snow only to narrowly avoid death in a disaster at sea, Rush builds strong citadels of sonic grandeur and intricate machinery on Clockwork Angels. From the sublime acoustic artistry and sweeping, gorgeously arranged strings – erected by arranger/conductor David Campbell – of “Halo Effect” to the swirling mystery and renegade guitars of “Seven Cities of Gold” and the big-hearted emotions and dramatic swells of “The Wreckers,” Clockwork Angels is both beautiful and majestic.
Alex Lifeson’s fretwork is breathtakingly here, balancing expressive solos with the desire to sculpt the muscular, driving riffs of “Headlong Flight” and weave acoustic gold in the delicate, affecting dreaminess of post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd in “The Garden.” Pushed to the forefront, Lee’s bass is propulsive and elastic, contorting itself into impossible shapes, all the while never letting the integrity of the song be compromised. And as for Peart, his wizardry has never been more potent or as unpredictable, that technical precision of his always one step away from devolving into controlled chaos. Witness the dizzying instrumental passage near the end of “Caravan” to get an idea of just how incredibly powerful and dynamic the trio’s interplay can be when Rush is at the top of their game. If not for the overwhelming production values actually weakening the sound quality and clarity of the record rather than strengthening it, Clockwork Angels might be deemed one of Rush’s finest albums, even if the threesome, on the rarest of occasions, appears slightly tentative and uncertain as to how to take songs to the next level. As it is, Clockwork Angels is still undeniably a classic.

-            Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Rush "Classic Albums: 2112 & Moving Pictures"

DVD Review: Rush - "Classic Albums: 2112 and Moving Pictures"
Eagle Vision
All Access Review: B


Perhaps predictably, Rush took a lot of heat for throwing in their lot with Ayn Rand as they did on 1976’s 2112. Her controversial writings were viewed by many as promoting a selfishly individualistic philosophy that sanctioned greed and scoffed at the notion of a common good.

Drummer/lyricist Neil Peart and the rest of Rush looked at Rand and saw something different in works like “Anthem” and “The Fountainhead.” In Rand, they found something of an intellectual freedom fighter, a warrior of strong mental fortitude in the fight against repressive totalitarianism and mind control. What they had, in essence, was an ally.

Influenced by the writings of Rand and those of science fiction writer Samuel R. Delaney as well, Peart constructed for Side 1 of 2112 an epic futuristic tale of a world where technology reigns supreme and art – music especially – is crushed under the heels of priests who knew, implicitly, what was best for the people. And yet, somehow, as told in this latest installment of Eagle Vision’s Classic Albums series, Rush was demonized for it. Critics went so far as to call them right-wing extremists and even Neo-Nazi sympathizers, when all Rush wanted to do was say a little something about staying true to yourself and your artistic vision.

2112 was the epitome of transitional records. On one side, there’s a conceptual suite, at once angry and piercingly loud, but also contemplative and melodic, pieced together in defiance of record company mandates to be more commercial. Once the rebellion had ended in the crashing chaos of “Oracle: The,” which Peart sees as the cavalry coming to save the day, Rush moves on to the shorter, more compact songs – the ones Mercury Records wanted more of, particularly after the weird and incomprehensible Caress of Steel – that make up Side 2.

Exploring the exotic, drug-fueled nature of “A Passage to Bangkok” and the contrasting lightness and dark shadows of imagination in “The Twilight Zone,” the DVD goes into great detail in telling the story of 2112. Peart, guitarist Alex Lifeson and bassist Geddy Lee all end up sharing fascinating memories of the making of 2112, with producer Terry Brown also revealing much about the studio process. Context and insight provided by esteemed music writer David Fricke and Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins flesh out the history of Rush’s break-though record, while Mercury promotions man Cliff Burnstein explains how tough it was for him to sell a conceptual record, or at least half of one, to a label that wanted no part of that.

What feels ham-fisted is how the film segues into Moving Pictures. In a sense, it tries too hard to find a connection between the two landmark records. History has shown that 2112 and Moving Pictures are clearly the most important works in Rush’s catalog, but, maybe due to time constraints or the lack of supporting material, the filmmakers gloss over how the band evolved between those works. And where they artfully lay the foundation and backdrop for 2112, less attention is given to what led up to Moving Pictures, though passing mention is made of Rush’s interest in New Wave and Punk and how that helped inform the record. The Moving Pictures segment is salvaged, however, by the deep, expansive analysis of “Tom Sawyer,” “Limelight,” “YYZ” and “Red Barchetta.”

While “2112 & Moving Pictures Classic Albums” does much to celebrate Rush’s musicianship and the complexity of their compositions, perhaps the film bit off more than it could chew here. Maybe separating the stories behind both records would have made for fuller, richer and more satisfying storytelling. Still, if you’re a Rush fan and these two records are among your favorites, there is much here to enjoy, especially the interviews. Candid, open and refreshingly defiant, Peart, Lifeson and Lee are engaging subjects, and watching them, up close, work through some of the most interesting parts of these great songs on their instruments is an absolute pleasure.

-Peter Lindblad 

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