2112
Rush
(Mercury, 1976)
Who among us cannot relate to a the story of a wayward peasant in a religiously totalitarian republic happening upon the gift of artistic expression, only to have it crushed by a bunch of mignon-scarfin' robe-wearin' killjoys who are probably keeping a chick on the side? None of us, that's who.
It's all about the titular epic, baby. Just go ask Snoop Dogg if you don't believe me. And they ain't never been a titular epic like the titular epic of Rush's 2112.
Jeez-us, eh? Where to begin? Eh? This is a storyline that runs through all of our lives. Don't care who you are. First, you have an overture. Then the forces of gigantic bummers make their presence known, just to remind you that they're in control and they know how expensive your electrical bill was last month. They run a tight ship. They have assistants. You're lucky to get a crock pot. They have chili and Irish stew anytime they want. Numbers, bub. They got 'em. You ain't.
Next thing you know, you're walking by a crystalline flowing stream and you discover a guitar. You fiddle around with it a bit, then teach yourself a Supertramp song in no time flat. You're rarin' to go. You go back to these priests, you show 'em the guitar, you say, "Hey, did you guys' auditor pick up on this nifty little Ronco device? Check it out, I can play 'Wild Thing' now!"
For some reason, these priests -- the extent of their liturgical training, incidentally, is unknown, so I dunno why they're priests -- don't like this thing too much. It's foolish. It's a toy. They don't do toys. They do things like hammers and staplers and checkbooks and such. And you apparently didn't get the memo about keeping your mojo in a safe-deposit box. Back to Cleveland with thee, scummite.
Then I don't know what happens, but judging by the wail of Geddy Lee's hyper-extended tenor, you try to run away, possibly trying to recruit an army of like-minded peasants upon your retreat, but by the end of the 20 minutes, "they" -- I have put "they" in quotes instead of capitalizing the word "They" in order to comment upon the ludicrousness of their paper esteem -- eventually "assume control" of the situation. I take it you meet an unseemly end, and so does their epic.
Maybe this sounds like I'm making fun of "2112," but I'm totally like so not! I love this song! I mean, this titular epic! I glossed over the overture, but I really liked it. I like how they stuck every trick in the book in just to show you they were preparing a work of major importance. Wham, there's delay on the guitar. Wham, there's Neal Peart's tightly-tuned roto-toms fluttering down the pike. By now, you should know that you're dealing with a rock band from Canada with a team of crack engineers who knows how to shop at Guitar Center. I would advise your not fucking with them.
One thing I discovered when listening to "2112" is that I really like how Alex Lifeson's guitar sounds when it rocks out. It's got that full-bodied, middle-frequency tone to it, with just enough grit so you know you're not listening to white boys playing blues music. It's a great compromise between heavy metal -- a style Rush probably tried to avoid in order to preserve their message -- and whatever tone you use to put the narrative out front. It's a lot closer to The Who's operatic approach than I ever realized.
Geddy Lee eventually learned how to curb his flailing vocal lines so as not to be mocked -- he calmed down and found his range. But the shrieking is totally called for in "2112." And he reserves it for portraying the priests, whom he paints as quite annoying, petulant figures, whereas his modest, calming voice is used when he's portraying the voice of compassionate wisdom. Man, we poets have it tough enough without raising our voices to compete with these fucking priests, who are always screaming and shrieking their drive-thru orders through that miserable little speaker.
Fuck the motherfucking priests of the temple of Shyrynx or Sarinks or Shareenyxe or however the hell they spelled it. Who cares? If you ain't kind to phonetics, you probably suck. Got no time. Talk to the hand. The hand that's holding this mighty guitar!
Side Two of 2112 was kinda boring, except for that Oriental music cliche riff in "A Passage to Bangkok," singularly implanted to remind you that there's an Eastern culture. I also really liked the song "Lessons."
But all you really need to know about Rush, and life, and this bastard we call life, and the range of heavy music-osity rock possesses can be found in the beautiful epic that is Side One of 2112, that is to say, the song "2112." It's the greatest product demonstration record ever. And yes, in my world view of music, that's a good thing. What would you rather spend time sucking down beer bongs and fussing about your restrictive parents to -- that crummy fourth Led Zeppelin album named after chicken scratchings, or an album Rush had the decency to name after a year?
I made my choice. When the priests come for your wah-wah pedal, don't come cryin' to me.
