2112
The one that made me a Rush fan.
I was sixteen years old at the time. Back then, in January or February of 1981, a fellow high school student loaned me a vinyl record of
2112 with a strong recommendation that I check it out (along with a record of Bachman-Turner Overdrive's
Not Fragile and some herb he had to sell). I had previously heard good reviews of
2112 from some of my friends. Well, I checked it
all out, especially playing the
2112 record and paying rapt attention to it through headphones. I recall being very stirred by the imaginative boldness of how it all sounded.
Up to that point, I had never heard anything by this band at all. It seemed sincerely passionate, and I listened to it often before giving the record back. Sometime later, probably a few weeks later, I heard "The Spirit Of Radio" over the airwaves, and this further solidified my interest in this band.
And then, in late May of that year, another high school friend and I headed from Kansas City, Missouri to Fort Myers, Florida for twenty-seven hours of travel in his 1980 Chevy Camaro, where we switched off between driving and sleeping/talking/listening. I hadn't had a driver's license for very long, and it was all a great adventure for me to be repeatedly at the helm while tearing down the long road to visit the beaches and my and my friend's respective family members (I remember packing three paperback books of The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever as reading material for a mpnths-long summer vacation in Florida, and having read as far as the "Legend of Berek Halfhand" chapter at the time of this journey--the start of another lifetime fondness besides the fondness for Rush). What does all this have to do with
2112? Please see the next paragraph.
Driving almost halfway across the country, I and my friend had just two cassettes we were listening to most of the way,
2112 and Aerosmith's
Greatest Hits. Every now and then when we heard something good while switching out tapes, like Golden Earring's "Radar Love", we'd stop playing them and give the radio a listen for 5-15 minutes. But we played those two cassettes over and over for a journey I thought of as a fantastic adventure at the time: the miles zoomed below, and Rush became part of the soundtrack of my life.
So, I've put off reviewing
2112 until the very last, finding it a daunting challenge to separate all the historical sentimentality I have for this album in order to listen to it
with a fresh perspective and a critical ear. But I hope I can rise to the occasion by gaining fresh insights (for me) and finding
something to complain about.
I. Overture - Starts out with groups of heavy stomping notes followed by some spacey sounds that whiz through your head like elliptically orbiting comets (or so it's seemed to me listening to this with headphones). The sound effects enhance the feeling that this is futuristic, and the music goes into a thunderous gallop to carry you along. The sound is made heavier by how strongly the drums have been mixed into the music, here. Yet the music is kept more enjoyable and less overbearing by the slower and more luminescent parts. The guitar keeps winding things up for another solid punch ( or quick series of punches) by the bass and drums. There's clearly a sense of unfolding dramatic adventure being imparted by the music, climaxing in the roar of explosions. Which only makes the briefly quiet part that follows speak more loudly, oddly enough.
II. The Temples Of Syrinx - After reciting the quiet paraphrase of a Sermon On The Mount prediction ("...and the meek shall inherit the earth"), the music slams against the listener with the force of a gale wind, informing you you're about to hear the view of a force to be reckoned with in this unfolding story, the perspective of the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx. They run an interplanetary government/religion, and have the attitude that they know what's best for people, and tat people should be grateful for their controlling efforts. To view them and their labors any other way is no doubt considered treasonous. The mention of the Red Star here, and its presence on the album's cover recall how it had symbolized enforced unity and blood-bound bonds in China, the Soviet Union, and elsewhere. Yet repression lives on in human existence, so the applicability of "2112" likewise lives on.
III. Discovery - The band most definitely got me hooked on their music by the time I heard this part. The sound of water running as a backdrop has often been a soothing aural experience for me, and here represents a stream in a cave where our protagonist finds an old but quite functional acoustic guitar (presumably in a sealed case that kept it from rotting away) and learns to play it over a period of time. The melody slowly increases in complexity, sounding like it's gaining further alluring charm with each newly introduced measure. I confess that I was seduced by its sound and solidly on the side of the main character in his desire to share this discovery with his world. The source material, Ayn Rand's
Anthem, had the main character rediscover electricity and design a light bulb that the powers-that-be reject. Changing the discovery to a guitar promotes a version of emotional liberation which no doubt made a more forceful appeal to listeners.
IV. Presentation - Great vocal contrasts between Geddy's calm singing when he represents the protagonist demonstrating the acoustic guitar, and his screaming when he's playing the part of the fanatically controlling Priests. Openhearted and hopeful, our hero plays an inviting melody while saying, "listen to my music/ and hear what it can do/ there's something here as strong as life/ I
know that it will reach you!" and the bass line reaffirms his confidence. But that confidence is dashed--and the guitar is probably dashed, also--by the offended Priests who castigate our lead character for daring to promote an idea for human creativity that they feel threatens their plans and control. And there's a threatening aura surrounding the music that ends this part, particularly around the guitar sound.
V. Oracle: The Dream - Supernatural vibrations of restless searching energy breaking through a cocooning shell of sleep are skillfully communicated in Alex's opening notes. Neil's lyrics start with an appeal for clarity, then describe how that clarity took form. The focal character ascends a stairway to the stars until meeting an enigmatic guide who shows that many people exist on other worlds in situations that encourage artistic freedom and individual achievement. The guide and the method of transportation may be mysterious, but there's nothing esoteric about the message the protagonist obtains: the liberated elder race of people grow ever more mighty, and intend to apply that might to free all the people still under the yoke of the Priests and the Solar Federation. And they'll flex their muscle, "with purpose strong", just as soon as its feasible to do so. This vision initially leaves its recipient afire with enthusiasm.
VI. Soliloquy - Some of Geddy Lee's most agonized singing in high register occurs right here. He channels the crestfallen discoverer who feels hopelessly limited by his oppressive leaders, to the point where Lord Foul's favorite gambit of despair is working on him. Rather than energetically inspiring him, his vision of the creatively liberated Elder Race only makes his real life seem more like unbearable suffocation. By song's end, it sounds like he's chosen suicide by fatally cutting himself. The guitar deftly captures the anguished frustration he is experiencing. As does the words for this section: "Just think of what my life might be, in a world like I have seen! I don't think I can carry on, carry on this cold and empty life, oh NO!"--delivered in a manner that's entirely convincing. Bass and drums further the feeling of heavy emotion hammering down on our hero's spirit. Poignant.
VII. Grand Finale - The ships of the freedom-loving Elder Race of humanity are launched through space, fight battles against the repressive Solar Federation, and emerge victorious to broadcast that they have assumed control. So freedom will ring across the planets of all humanity once more--too bad it doesn't seem like the protagonist held it together long enough to experience this moment. He had enthusiastic expectations for what he would be allowed to contribute to the human experience, only to find out that his quest was tragically quixotic. But the hope is still held out in this finale that repression can't last, that the pressure it applies will rebound to its undoing. The enthusiasm of the crowd when this part was played during the 2008 concert I saw affirms that the spirit of this album has a long-standing appeal for rockers. Taken as a whole story, "2112" (parts 1-7) is my pick as the album's best track.
A Passage To Bangkok - I've always liked it when Western popular music has some Oriental flavor mixed in with it (a taste inclination which partially explains why George Harrison is my favorite Beatle--the other part of the explanation being I have long admired the late GH's spiritually sincere attitude on life). The music comes across as happy anticipation and lightheartedness in pursuit of all the best "smoke" to find in the world. Party songs are rare for Rush (
Caress Of Steel's ode to wine "Bacchus Plateau" is the only other example of which I can recall), but that rarity only makes it a more interesting listen. How many ways can one express the thought "we're going over to this exotic place to sample their good stuff"? Well, Neil Peart tries to find as many different ways to say it as he can within the confines of this song's verses. The music and lyrics of the chorus convey a warm, welcoming enticement to adventure. The song may not be socially responsible, but it's a fun train ride.
The Twilight Zone - The liner notes of Rush's previous album COS included an acknowledgement of Rod Serling's 1975 passing. The nod to RS continues with this song, a homage to Serling's most famous television series creation. The music in the verses evoke an innocent stroll, a travel through an ordinary-seeming day. And then the chorus music conjures up an atmosphere of insidious & enveloping danger. It's an atmosphere that is enhanced by the "i-ni-ni; ni-ni, ni-ni-ni" incantation and by the whispering in the final chorus. Serling's groundbreaking show explored issues about the human psyche in the fantasy/sci-fi/horror modes, and sometimes opted to just be weird in some of its stories. But the lyrics about seeing a three-eyed man and a giant boy are merely rough example of what that show was about, and the music for the verses doesn't fit together well with the chorus music. Nice sentiment, but this feels like filler to me on this listen.
Lessons - I find the beginning to be seductive as it slowly fades in, with its contrast between the caressing guitar and the reassuring bass. But it's an abrupt transition to the reproachful chorus criticizing this song's viewpoint character in flashback for possessing a short attention span. This tune remarks on the irony of looking back on an originally frustrating experience with current fondness: "sweet memories/ I never thought it would be like this/ reminding me/ oh, just how close I came to missing". And there's an anticipation of reaching the position occupied by the once-critical (and then under-appreciated) teachers. Musically, I enjoy the beginning & ending of this song, especially when hearing it on headphones. I don't care so much for the chorus music. This track's the only Rush song with lyrics solely written by Alex Lifeson.
Tears - Sounds like it's about sharing the feelings of chronic depression: "What would touch me deeper, tears that fall from eyes that only cry? Would it touch me deeper than tears that fall from eyes that know why?" (I guess the answer to that second question is "no"). I suppose it's also about sensitivity and empathy as Geddy indulges in exploring his feelings once again. This song marks the first time Rush used outside musicians for the melody, I think. It serves to expand the range of emotions the album has to offer. The particular timbre of the plucked strings promote a vibe of time being slowed down to make room for deep sighs and quiet laments. This song is about reaching out, which is good, but it's still just filler.
Something For Nothing - An almost mesmerizing and soothing buzz emanates from Alex's opening guitar notes, a dreamlike reassurance woven around the listener. The melody is repeated with harmonic-sounding notes suggesting blurred visions that have resolved into clarity. Then the music and vocals become a jolt intended to galvanize the dreamer into action and thereby discard the procrastination. Procrastination is as close to a universal failing as any other flaw that weighs down the human race (like how I've procrastinated on getting this album review done); it can take a jolting realization or reaction to finally take action and make a fond realization into a satisfying reality. Words and musical emotion aren't minced in the choruses, but it's not all about tough love. The words in the bridge light fires of encouragement for the dreamer to seize action, to believe in an expanding view of what's possible. The song seems kind of raw, but it's a pretty decent tune.
Releasing this album literally changed the band's career for the better. It's not their best-selling album (
Moving Pictures has that distinction), but it's the one that broke Rush into the big leagues, to playing in front of arena-sized audiences.
