LEGACY OF ICONIC ALBUM
Canadian punkers mark milestone
Debate, argue and disagree all you want.
Politely, of course. And with apologies.
But Rush are the quintessential Canadian band. They are the perfect Canadian band. The one, true king of Canadian rock bands.
A bizarre, experimental, interesting, unique, brilliant, at times nondescript, somewhat socialist, patriarchal experiment that sometimes others get, sometimes seems content to keep to itself, is at once frumpy, sexy and exciting and long- winded and pretentious, and something we can certainly be proud of, claim as entirely our own of and is a mere 107 years younger than the nation from which they sprung
Yes, Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart, collectively known as Rush, are Canada in rock band form. For good and bad. And all of that was on display Wednesday night as the legendary, influential rock three- piece rolled into the Saddledome on their R40 Tour, which was, partly, to celebrate their 40- year career, but will also reportedly be their last large, extensive, jaunt around the world due to time, age, life, etc.
And, as such, their two sets of, what frontman Lee introduced as “a gazillion songs,” was an uneven, but never boring, now- to- back- to- the- beginning trip through their challenging, baffling, always intriguing four decades together selling 40 million albums and launching just as many garage and/ or air bands.
After a silly, gently humorous ( think Corner Gas or Red Green) cartoon intro, they took the stage eight minutes late — which, oddly, they didn’t not say sorry for, eh — and then launched into The Anarchist from 2012’ s Clockwork Angels, their last studio release.
That — the music, not necessarily the song — was what brought it all together, what you either bought into, merely appreciated or were indifferent to.
And, even if you were in the latter minority, you’d have to at least admit that the three men onstage are remarkable musician; Lifeson’s guitar work was just astounding all around; Lee, whelping with that voice of his, laid down ( or, sigh, slapped) the bass on every song as if it was a jazz solo; and Peart, well, just damn — even when he wasn’t soloing it sounded as if he was playing his own separate but included concert.
The entire evening was that brilliance, the chemistry and the musical connection between three masters of their craft 40 years in. And if that’s what you wanted or were looking for — as many of the 12,000 or so undoubtedly were — your complaints were likely few.
That said, it was everything else, the entertainment value of everything that wasn’t played, that you could quite easily find fault with.
The entire structure of the evening, for one, was set up so that that things started with the new stuff; stuff that, yes, the diehards still presumably love, but which made for an uphill slog in that first half. That included tracks such as Headlong Flight, How It Is, and Far Cry which kicked things into full prog territory — with a heavy flashpot bang to make sure the faithful were still wide awake — before fellow Snakes and Arrows entry, instrumental The Main Monkey Business took things further out there.
It was only when they got near to intermission — and later came out of it — that things really all came together, such as final firstset tune Subdivisions and Roll the Bones, one of the musical low points of the band’s career — a somewhat clunky and ill- advised attempt to stay hip, current and relevant in the early ’ 90s — but one of the first half’s energetic highpoints, thanks, mainly, to the song’s silly rap interlude, which was supplemented with onscreen lip- synching by such notables as the Trailer Park Boys ( hoser cred intact) and, sure, why not, Peter Dinklage.
That was another theme throughout the evening, visuals to distract or rather bring in the audience, enhance what the men onstage were doing, the with the lights just as proggy as the tunes, and the first set featuring a basement laundry room motif — the washing machine churning at times as robotically yet admirably as the band did.
Early tune The Wreckers had an animated backing that, fittingly recalled the Group of Seven and the NFB short for the McGarrigle sister’s Log Driver’s Waltz ( the rest of the evening’s visuals were heavy on the landscapes as well).
That momentum that wrapped up the first half, of course, continued into the second, with the first part of that being the material that many know and love.
After an intermission and another, goofy, mildly entertaining video interlude titled No Country for Old Hens — which featured outtakes from I Love You Man’s Paul Rudd and Jason Segal, fellow Canuck Jay Baruchel, Jerry Stiller and South Park. It led directly into mainstream hit Tom Sawyer, with onscreen accompaniment by monkey Rush that was, again, mildly, briefly delightful.
They sounded great, they played fabulously, with an honest, workmanlike approach, there was a lot to look at but it never seemed as if they were being overly showy, and, ultimately, it was all rather nice, tidy, polite and likable experience.
So. Yeah. Canadian. To the core.