It's the canned synth-horns straight out of Yes' "Owner of a Lonely Heart" paired with a groove that's maybe a little too self-confident, and lyrics like "Why are we here/Because we're here." And then it's got. I demand recompense for emotional damages.ġ79. For years I would sing this song aloud every time I got online and went to a bulletin board.
The refrain: "Net boy, net girl/Send your impulse 'round the world/Put your message in a modem/And throw it in the Cyber sea!" Holy shit, guys, this is humiliating. THESE LYRICS! Test for Echo is all about communication, and 1996 was the year many of us got our first email addresses. The thumping bass is good and the dissonant clang of the guitar kinda kicks ass. On a strictly musical level, "Virtuality" is not Rush's worst song. How many pets out there have been named By-Tor? How many people struggled through Atlas Shrugged based on the band's implicit recommendation? How many kids played Space Invaders to "Tom Sawyer," or was that just on Futurama? How many kimonos were sold as a direct result of Rush's fascination with them in the 1970s? The band is retired now and won't be coming back, so it's time to salute these geniuses by ranking every single song they ever did. Rush fans are among the most dedicated in rock. (Note: There's also a subset of Rush fans who love the music but abhor the words. Circling tricky subjects like individualism, freedom, and triumph, the songs still retain a brightness that was often reflected in the musical structure. They were often epic in scope (multiple concept albums! a song that stretches out over two albums!), rich in sci-fi and fantasy adventure, and contained clever couplets that rallied around a particular heavy theme. Peart's lyrics had a lot to do with that. Rush's records appealed to freaks and burnouts, sure, but also to eggheads and early computer programmers. Sonically, there isn't that much philosophical difference between Rush and Iron Maiden but, back in the day, their fan bases couldn't have been farther apart. The band's unparalleled musical intricacy is often framed with a mathematician's logic. But within a few years, as the Canadian power trio set aside its Led Zeppelin and Cream fixation, it became clear that Rush had discovered an addictive formula: Geddy Lee, the frontman with vocals that soared high like an eagle on poppers and in-your-face bass that rode low Alex Lifeson, purveyor of searing, shearing guitar, zipping up and down scales one moment and glistening simple soundscapes the next and Neil Peart, one of the busiest drummers in rockdom, packing each fill with as much vigor as a simple measure could handle.
On August 14, 1974, when singer-bassist Geddy Lee, guitarist Alex Lifeson, and drummer-lyricist Neil Peart - brought in just three weeks earlier to replace ailing founding member John Rutsey - performed live together for the first time at Pittsburgh's Civic Auditorium in support of Uriah Heep and Manfred Mann, few attendees could have predicted that Rush had embarked on an inimitable four-decade journey. Forty-five years ago, a mighty rock triumvirate roared in from the north, armed with furious grooves, instrumental complexity, crafty lyrics, and an important question to ask of the legions of fans they'd win over: Do you want to air-guitar, air-bass or air-drum right now?
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