Top Five: Shows of 2017

I went to a shit ton of shows last year.  Because I’m a soon-to-be-graduated graduate student with teaching and course pressure, I unfortunately lacked the drive and, well, simple energy to write out reviews.  The passion just wasn’t there.  I got…myself to feed, damnit!  Now it’s back. So, sorry, but not sorry.

Okay, time for a more coherent lead.  I attended and indulged mostly metal shows last year with the exception of Loufest (a trust fund Coachella clone) a couple indie rock/electronic shows, a post-punk show — speaking of which, we probably should’ve warned Ian McCulloch of notorious, trash smelling St. Louis summers — and started off 2018 with the radical punk extravaganza, Propogandhi.  Fuck the border!

Have a taste of my experiences and enjoy your vicarious skimming because here is a list of my top five shows (in no specific order). Oh, and disclaimer — I guess — I’m employing full bias, because people apparently care about that shit.

Gojira

These guys tour.  A lot.  I saw them twice last year, once at Indianapolis’ Egyptian Room with Opeth and the Devin Townsend Project, the second at Pops, supported by Code Orange (meh) and Torche (cool stoner dudes).  Unfortunately, I was unable to jump into the Indy pit.  Not to mention I was the only person headbanging.  That was just a generally unfortunate experience (I’ll get into why during the Devin Townsend Project fanboysturbation).  The Pops show, on the other hand…Let’s just say my ankle still pops and I still find sticky shit in random places.  Yeah, Pops is gross, but perfect for an explosive metal atmosphere.  Wall of Death, circle pit, St. Louis had it going!  What a show.  What an experience.   Also, the post-Code Orange karate was kept to a minimum.  St. Louis metalheads, I salute you.

Find me this shirt in an XXL.  I need it.  Also, go to a Havok show.

Gorguts

This was my first show at Fubar STL and it certainly won’t be the last.  The beer is cheap, the stage close and intimate, if a little sticky (apparently that’s a trend in St. Louis). If you attend a Fubar show, pay the ten bucks for parking in the lot across the street. The, um, guard(?) is a super nice and friendly guy who knows St. Louis, in and out, and will get you woke.  Back on topic.  The pit was brutal.  And I’ve been in a Slayer pit.  At 270 plus, I was thrown around like MDMA at an EDM festival.  +1,000 points for the analogy/acronym/alliteration combo.  Gorguts played an extensive set, including cuts from The Erosion of Sanity, the avant garde bomb, Obscura, before closing with a full rendition of the 30+ minute epic, Pleiades Dust.  Just…holy shit.  Luc Lemay is so fucking cool.  I’m just going to leave it at that.

Amon Amarth

What do you get when you mix viking-themed melodeath, booze, drinking horns, and…Colombia, Missouri?  Closure.  Wait…wha??  I look at this show as a kind of personal redemption.  My first experience with the bearded Swedes occurred during a particularly hectic semester of graduate school.  At some point, right before “Guardians of Asgard,” I decided to leave early to finish an essay.  Yeah.  The things I will do for an opportunity-spare Masters degree.  Life decision rant aside, let me just say that Amon Amarth live performances are the definition of tastefully excessive showmanship, complete with smoke, giant phallic hammers (yep, went there), fireworks, topping it all off with a horned-helmet drum platform design (pun intended).  Definitely one of the best live metal acts out there.  Raise your horns!

By the way, the Viking horned helmet is a myth.  Jus’ sayin.

 

Devin Townsend Project

As previously stated, I saw DTP twice last year.  I’m gonna rant a little on The Egyptian Room real quick.  To those who scheduled stage times, please start future shows at the scheduled time.  I drove five hours, almost got stuck overnight on the highway due to a horrendous semi/car wreck (yeah, I know, super inconvenienced. My condolences to those involved in the wreck), and showed up at the scheduled DTP showtime.  And, of course, I missed almost the entire show because DTP started almost an hour early.  So yeah, fuck that place.

Ahem, DTP at the Ready Room? Hell yeah.  If Amon Amarth are the masters of tasteful excess, Devin Townsend holds the PhD.  Fuck, I really need to tone down the academic puns.  If I were to summarize the show in two songs, I’d have to say, “Deadhead” and “March of the Poozers.”  “Deadhead” put the crowd into a meditative, emotional trance, while “March of the Poozers” brought out laughter and smiles; that, my friends, is all you need to know.  At one point you will cry, the next roll your eyes as the  comedian/metalhead/singer/guitar virtuoso moves through his extensive, non-genre specific discography.  What else can you expect from the guy who shat in Steve Vai’s guitar case? I guess you could call him…

*puts on glasses

**pauses

…a shit show.

Explosions in the Sky

There’s something about this band’s sound that stands out from the typical quiet intro –> loud climax postrock standard.  No lyrics.  Completely instrumental.  That’s pretty typical, is it not? But, unlike, let’s say Mogwai or Canadian anarchists, Godspeed You! Black Emperor — who have their groundbreaking postrock foundations, don’t get me wrong — Explosions in the Sky is somewhat accessible.  And by accessible, I mean instantaneously engaging.  I’m not discrediting Godspeed, but ya gotta be in a specific, fuck the world mood to listen to them, ya know?

During their St. Louis stop at the Pageant, Explosions in the Sky thrust listeners through waves of emotive passages, accented and emoted through an impressive light show and charismatic-but-silent stage presence.  Okay, you know what? Stop here.  Go to Youtube.  Type in “Your Hand In Mine.” Now, imagine that shit being played in a concert hall, while you enjoy a couple drinks.

 

 

 

 

 

The Return of the Gangsta, Thanksta…The Gorge, Seven)Suns and Cleric (Live Review)

After an extended break due to graduate school, teaching and writing academic things (woo!), I have decided to return to the game…of unpaid, thankless blogging.  Such competition.  Much fun.  Okay, bad meme and misconstrued references aside, I’m glad to be back.  These past couple years have been filled with concerts and various musical adventures, so strap in! It’s going to be…a ride.

Because apparently we’re about to go punk.  And that means skateboarding images! Because I’m one of those “damn millennials.”

I’m going to call these past couple years, at least from my super relevant perspective, the United States era of sludgy, grimy and depressing as shit doom, funeral doom, and stoner metal.  Pallbearer, Bell Witch (Mirror Reaper is album of the decade, change my mind), Mastodon, Sleep (new tour!) and all those masturbatory Black Sabbath startups…each have pulled, or continue to pull, the boundaries of metaldom back to its slow, riff driven blues and stoner roots.  Specifically, in St. Louis, there is an interesting development of punk attitude and grungy, working class, almost Birmingham-esque live trend, providing a widening space for road warriors Weedeater, Corrosion of Conformity, Eyehategod, Black Label Society and, most recently, Pallbearer.  Because, when the levee breaks…

Okay, so, in this scene, where does the jazz, the technicality, the Djent! belong?  Apparently in the St. Louis, Cherokee coffee house, Foam.

“What a transition!” — Nobody

I had the pleasure of attending the Cleric headlining tour, opened by tech metallers, The Gorge, and string quartet, Seven) Suns, at the Foam coffee house in St. Louis.  That’s right,  a coffee house.  Metal and hipsters.  Fuck yeah!  The venue is intimate — I couldn’t think of a better word for small — and run by some fabulous baristas/bartenders.  I only wish I got their names.  Poor journalism on my part, but oh well.  What’s important is the beers were cheap, the coffee hot, and the atmosphere warm, inviting.  Perfect for some twisted, weird ass metal.

Disclaimer: A major label needs to sign The Gorge.  Seriously.  If some Nuclear Blast intern is looking for some mobility, here’s a tip: put The Gorge on the executive’s table and drop that fucking mic in your new office space.

Did I mention this was at a coffee house? Look at that face…

I’ve been following The Gorge for about a year now.  I saw them open for Weedeater back in, I believe, August 2017.  I’m too lazy to look so just take my word for it.  The Gorge adds some melody to the djenty meshuggah framework, all the while maintaining a jazz-conscious feel for groove.  Their live performance is cathartic, culminated in politically-driven and emotionally jarring lyrics.  I mean, their album art for Thousand Year Fire is a drawing of the Cahokia Mounds!  How else to bring attention to the voices of a colonized and destroyed culture than through some djenty, emotionally jarring metal? So, in a postcolonial perspective, besides the album being written and performed by a juxtaposed personality of bearded and clean cut white dudes, The Gorge brings some cultural and political significance to the table.  Told ya I’ve been in academia for a hot minute.  Don’t be surprised when I go there, metal bros.

String quartet, Seven)Suns, added discomfort to this cathartic atmosphere.  One of my biggest complaints regarding the venue is the layout.  There is no “stage,” but who can blame em? It’s a coffee house. However, it’s kinda hard to see the performers, especially when the audience, including myself, are mostly around or over six feet tall.

A toast for the short folks and those who would rather sit at the bar! 

String quartet, Seven)Suns has worked with Dillinger Escape Plan, and have an energetic live presence, breaking dissonant and melodic runs with passionate grunts that do not feel out of place or forced.  Each string could be heard, and I’m not gonna lie, I have a soft spot for the cello.  Its sound is just too damn beautiful for its own good.  If I were to describe Seven)Suns’ stage presence, it would be creepy.  Beautifully unsettling.  A nice transition from The Gorge’s brutality into Cleric’s…I don’t even know.

I’m not gonna lie, I only started listening to Cleric earlier in the day.  I heard their name cast around in internet forums of the most obscure and pretentious sort, but, as usual, I cast them into a general, maybe later part of my brain.  But, Fuck, was I blown away.  As soon as Larry Kawartowitz set up his fucking obnoxiously large china symbol, I knew the room was in for an experience.  Drum lord, Lars Ulrich, would faint at the sight of that behemoth.

I can hardly describe Cleric’s sound.  A little Gorguts here; a little Frank Zappa there.  And a large helping of general holy shittery that is just Cleric.  Keyboardist, vocalist, second base, guitarist — pretty much everythingist — Nick Schellenberger took full advantage of the space.  His dual microphone rig and passionate stage presence brought even the sound guy (mustachio’d, dressed, roller bladed, and fuzzy hat guy, you the best) to the front, headbanging and bouncing.  This band is tight, folks.  Think of a metaphor for tight and Cleric will shatter it with two synchronized doom chords.  The bass (Daniel Kennedy) and lead/rhythm guitarist (Matt Hollenberg) were synched perfectly with the drums, casting aside count downs in favor of good ol’ fashioned, felt nonverbal communication.  And, punctuating the evening, Cleric played an extremely emotive rendition of, I believe, “The Treme,” a nine minute piece transitioning from technical what the fuckery to an existential sense of doom.  Incredible work from everyone involved.

Again, this venue creates and maintains community.  The openers, the staff, the small, but passionate crowd, were caught in Cleric’s strange, chaotic apocalypse.  Check out their groundbreaking underground album, Regressions sometime for a general feel before the record goes out of print.  Also, make a trip to Foam if you find yourself in the neighborhood.

Next week:  Weedeater (Round Two)

Final Verdict:  I’m done assessing shit.  Just take what you want from the review.  The venue was accommodating.  The show was kick ass.  

 

 

 

 

Review: Muse – Drones

Drones is the byproduct of a pop/prog band that takes itself too seriously. I love it.

One must tread lightly when dealing with a band like Muse.  On one hand, there’s the fans.  Think, Radiohead fans, but take away a few years, and add belief that Matt Bellamy is Freddy Mercury’s second coming.  Yeah, we’re talking X Files devotion here, man.  On the other hand, the general opinion of the band lies on a “hate em’ or love em'” basis, leaving little room for objective criticism.  If such a thing even exists.  I don’t blame listeners, though.  Muse is too prog for the pop fan, too song-oriented for the general prog head.  There really isn’t a middle ground, but for eye rollers and coffee slammers like myself.

Muse is a band of taste, dabbling in prog excess without garnering too much of the pompousness required for a full blown member of the genre.  Yes, Bellamy’s lyrics are pretentious and ofttimes cheesy.  The concepts are often overblown and preachy.  Yet, when stripped down, Muse explores multiple musical avenues, a unique blend of electronica, jazz, rock, and even metal. Not to mention Absolution and Black Holes and Revelations brought progressive rock back into the mainstream. That alone is respectable.  Drones doesn’t bring anything new to the table, but continues Matt Bellamy, Dominic Howard, and Christopher Wolstenholme’s statement on the state of progressive rock.

Straight off, the album goes into Depeche Mode territory with opener, “Dead Inside.”  Cringeworthy song title aside, the track does well as an introduction to the band’s bombastic sound.  Drum machines.  Drum machines everywhere! “Dead Inside” is as genetically close to a classic Muse song than any other track on the record.  The track bleeps and bloops in a weird intro before hitting the listener with emotion.  Muse emotion, that is.  I say that because there’s a level of drama only Muse can create, and it is in this emotional crescendo, that listeners are divided. The lyrics, themselves, are suspect.  Behind Bellamy’s still impressive falsetto, “Dead Inside,” brings out a healthy dose of Muse drama, spouting:

Your lips feel warm to the touch/You can bring me back to life/On the outside you’re ablaze and alive/But you’re dead inside.

Muse, “Dead Inside,” Drones (2015)

Overseeing the album is a convoluted concept of prog’s finest subject: individualism.  As in the past, I try to focus on the music and lyrics alone, so concept falls low on my critical repertoire.  However, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the lack of originality in Bellamy’s lyrics.  They observe topics with the most shallow of executions, exploiting cliche after cliche as if wishing to frustrate the listener.  In this regard, the juvenile lyrics take away from the music.  Coming from a guy that places lyrics behind music, that’s saying a lot.

Luckily, the music is strong enough to mask the overdone concept. As listeners reach the album’s midsection, the music becomes abrasive, adopting elements of hard rock, even metal. “The Handler,” for instance, grabs this musical progression by the balls.  Muse tackled heaviness in previous albums in tracks like, “Knights of Cydonia,” and “Stockholm Syndrome,” but Drones brings their heavier spectrum to the forefront.  And I’ll admit, I like this new direction.  For the first time, Muse’s album feels tied together, bringing in multiple markets, but still holding on to their trademark sound.  Each influence comes through in album epic, “The Globalist,” the main highlight of the album, a track exploding with melody and aggression.  This track is the pinnacle of Muse’s experimentation, while, “Revolt,” and, “Mercy,” tap into accessible, Queen-esque waters.  If anything, Drones is an accessible progressive rock album, which — I must say — shows songwriting maturity.

At the head of this aggressive direction is Matt Bellamy’s guitar.  Neoclassical, earpleasing shreddery.  Although the album’s tracks fail to reach, “Stockholm Syndrome,” intensity, Bellamy still throws down memorable riffs in heavier tracks like, “Psycho,” and “Defector.” Besides lead guitar, each instrument plays for atmosphere over technical brilliance. That’s okay. My only complaint, musicianship-wise, is the absence of natural drum sounds. I get that the band strives for more of an electronic feel, but the drums, at times, make the songs feel…synthetic.  Perhaps intentional, perhaps an aesthetic choice.  Maybe it’s a production issue.  Either way, Dominic Howard’s kit sounds lifeless and that’s a problem.

Overall, Muse’s seventh studio album, Drones, overcomes its shoddy concept and stale rhythm section with an accessible, but heavy approach to the progressive genre.

RATING:  3.75/5

Disclaimer: All properties, rights, and content of the featured image belong to its owner.  Image found at http://preorder.muse.mu/. I have, in no way, used said image for profit.

Review: Steven Wilson – Hand. Cannot. Erase

A continuation of Steven Wilson’s prog trip, with the accessibility of Stupid Dream.

I’ve been avoiding this album for some reason.  I knew it was coming out, and once it hit the shelves, I let it sit there, almost like a punishment.  You see, I’m a Porcupine Tree fan.  I’ll admit it.  So, again, there’s going to be some bias.  Shoot me. Okay, back to business.  Even though Wilson is the band’s main songwriter — which means his solo albums shouldn’t stray too far away from that overarching sound — the barefooted Brit’s solo work has, so far, left something to be desired.  Grace for Drowning succeeded with its throwback to 70’s progressive rock, but fell victim to its own structure, a derivative collaboration of Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, Camel.

The Raven That Refused To Sing had its moments, but continued Wilson’s regression to derivative territory, influenced even more by King Crimson.  Yes, Steven Wilson became an oxymoron of the progressive genre.  Overall, there was something Porcupine Tree had that Wilson’s solo work didn’t, but defining that difference was a challenge all in itself. Gavin Harrison, perhaps? I don’t know. His 2015 album, Hand. Cannot. Erase, however, brings back Steven Wilson’s trademark pop/prog sensibilities.  The album introduces more personal sounds without becoming overburdened by influences, and that’s a welcome return to style.

There’s a lot going on here.  Musically, the album explores multiple genres, from Rush-inspired bass licks — ha, what a coincidence — in “First Regret/Three Years Older” to straightford pop in “Hand Cannot Erase.”  If you’re an avid Porcupine Tree listener, spin the instrumental “Home Invasion/Regret #9” and tell me you don’t hear those polyrhythms that made the Porcupine Tree metal phase so successful.  Oh, there’s even a Rick Wright-esque keyboard solo thrown in there, which leads Guthrie’s climactic guitar wail.  So, Wilson’s got that working for him.  Which is nice. And then the track concludes with a banjo! Fucking banjo! You gotta love variety.  “Home Invasion” stands as one of Wilson’s better instrumentals, which contains sound changes so abrupt that I could hear Kristoffer Ryggs’ knees buckle.  A definite highlight.  There are even some electronica influences in “Perfect Life.”  Although this particular track, and second single, lacks the inspiration of the first two tracks, the electronic layers and conceptual lyrics are a breath of fresh air, complete with a climactic conclusion.  Atop beautiful, electronic layers, Wilson croons:

We have/We have a perfect life.

-Steven Wilson, “Perfect Life,” Hand. Cannot. Erase (2015)

Don’t get the wrong idea.  This is not a happy album.  The lyrics follow typical Wilson-isms of over-the-top sorrow.  Steven Wilson is Melancholy, and he throws the listener off guard by coupling this darkness with inspiring, even happy melodies.  He is perfectly capable of igniting hope with a track like “Perfect Life” and then choking that hope out with “Routine.” I never usually complain about Wilson’s lyrics.  Within his vast discography is everything I want from a melodramatic sad sap: hopelessness, melancholy, and brooding with just enough cheese to make the lyrics delicious.  However, Hand. Cannot. Erase suffers a little on the poetry side.  Maybe I’ve grown up.  Or, maybe it’s just fatigue from the constant barrage of sadness from Wilson, a lack of variety in the most depressing way.  I know I just complemented the album’s musical variety, but when it came to the album’s lyrics, I found myself rolling my eyes at times.  Just look at this line from “Hand Cannot Erase” and tell me the cheese isn’t overwhelmingly funky:

Writing lying e-mails to our friends back home/Feeling guilty if we sometimes wanna be alone.

-Steven Wilson, “Hand Cannot Erase,” Hand. Cannot. Erase (2015)

Okay, that’s enough of lyrics.  Back to the music!

“Routine” is the pinnacle of Steven Wilson’s solo vision. A track dominated by melodramatic riffs, beautiful piano, and a rousing performance by Ninet Tayeb, the track rises and falls with purpose, especially during its dramatic midsection.  At the 6:00 mark — or somewhere in there, I’m too lazy to actually check — Tayeb’s voice pushes forward in the mix…and the rest is history.  A truly beautiful, inspirational track, the lyrics interesting, the music everything you can expect from Mr. Wilson.  The final highlight of the album is also the album’s shortest song, “Transience.”  Very Porcupine Tree-like, the track opens with an acoustic riff, spotted here and there with Hans Zimmer-like blaams.  Then, Steven Wilson’s trademark “ahs” and harmonies take over to create his trademark emotional atmosphere.

Steven Wilson’s 2015 LP, Hand. Cannot. Erase is a return to accessibility without abandoning the technical prog of previous albums.  This evolution not only adds unique quality to the album, but grants Steven Wilson a sound all his own.  Bravo, Mr. Wilson.  Bravo.

Rating: 4/5

All rights, content, and properties of the featured image was found in lassehoile’s post on Blogspot:  http://lassehoile.blogspot.com/2015/03/hand-cannot-erase.html.  I have, in no way, used said image for profit.

R40 Tour, A Fitting (unofficial) Farewell to Rush

On Thursday, May 14, I had to fight through bums, transportation “technical difficulties,” and nosebleed woes to see Rush’s R40 tour stop in St. Louis.  Man, was it worth it.

There’s a certain vibe you get during the pre-show hype of a concert.  Questions quickly take over.  From, “What songs will they play?” to “Do they still have it?” to “$9.00 for a beer? Are you shitting me?”  As my nose wrinkled to the skunky smells with hints of body odor, I knew, I just knew Rush was going to succeed in all three categories.  Well, maybe the first two.  The third is just an unfortunate circumstance.  Somehow, in the back of my head, I never dwelt on the fact that Rush would most likely never be back, that, after the show, classic rock stations would bow down, then move on to the next “big” thing, like fucking Sammy Hagar coming back for the millionth time.  God, if I had a dollar for every time St. Louis praised Sammy Hagar…That’s besides the point.

Soon after taking this photo, a pair of drunk fans asked if I was lost (like a child), while a bum inquired for a couple of ‘doobies.’  

Then, Neil Peart opened “The Anarchist.” I felt connected, all questions, all hype, all expectations diminished in those first few seconds.  And I realized, that was going to be it.  It was a bittersweet moment, really.  As expected, Rush came out with the stage presence they trademarked: quirky production pieces, well timed audience interaction, flashy solos and tasteful improvisations.  The entire production was showy, as you’d expect from a band as successful as Rush, but never felt like a distraction. The last time Rush came to St. Louis, they had a similar stage setup to R40, in that the design focused on a steam punk, industrial theme. However, the band removed the more showy elements to create a more intimate, retrospective design.

Each part of the stage fit into the show in one way or another.  Of course, Geddy’s traditional stage filler was a mix of jokes only he and the other band members understood.  It’s well known that Lee prefers venues’ PA systems over traditional amplifiers, favoring overwhelming over isolated sound.  To cover up the space, Lee throws in some ‘add-ins,’ such as washing machines or — I think I saw in the Rush in Rio DVD — rotisserie chickens.  For the R40 tour, the thunder god displayed a popcorn maker, phonograph, and some chemical tanks or something or another, I couldn’t tell.

Don’t worry, there’s a point to this overblown description of set pieces.  As I said, each piece had meaning.  The show moved through each era of the band, and in the background, the moving men from Moving Pictures slowly converted the stage props to objects representing their respective time period.  Once we reached the halfway point, the stage drop revealed classic production values, complete with old school amplifiers, light setups — which, in turn, were slowly taken away as the band reached their humbler days — and Neil Peart’s retro, 2112 drum kit.  A beautiful, cohesive effort from all associated with the Rush brand.  Notice, I said brand, not band.  The other guys deserve credit too, you know!

SETLIST SPOILER ALERT!

Loo at that. 500 words in and I’m just now getting into the actual performance.  Silly me.  Rush, as they’ve done for years, split their R40 show into two sets.  Starting with Clockwork Angels and going backwards, the band covered years of music with attention to detail and respect for their fans.  Both casual listeners and hardcore fans were pleased, hits and epics aplenty.  There were two main highlights of the show.  The first, at least for me, was the band’s rendition of “Headlong Flight.”  The live version, thanks in part to Peart and Lifeson’s solos, blew the studio version out of the water.

On the vocals side, Geddy’s voice shaped up well since his last St. Louis appearance, as evident in his consistent wail during “Flight[‘s]” higher moments.  The man sure can sing for his age.  He even powered through “Closer to the Heart,” and if you know that song — which you should. If not, why are you even reading this? — you surely know the ability required to sing it.  Performance wise, Geddy and Alex moved about the stage constantly, adding in solos here and there to get the crowd going.  Meanwhile, Neil Peart worked his magic behind his more elaborate kit, the larger, more expansive monster used in his later years.  The fills, the precision, the power, the groove, Neil Peart hit the opening set with a mission.

The other highlight — this is kind of a cheat, but oh well — is the entire second set.  It was a Rush fan’s dream, spanning epics and hits from the 70’s.  And you know how much RFTOS loves 70’s Rush.  Leading in with a fun little video, punctuated by a classic South Park scene, the opening of “Tom Sawyer” shook the venue.  You might’ve thought the whole crowd shit their pants. What a moment. The band was electric, Geddy and Lifeson leading the musical charge towards Peart’s cathartic, and might I say classic, drum solo.  But that meant nothing to the scale of Peart’s official solo closing “Cygnus X-1.” Prepare for some pretension. Ready? Let’s go!

The axemen cleared and Peart worked his kit at center stage.  Now, let’s put this into perspective.  This is not Neil’s 1,000 piece behemoth.  This is his 70’s-style drum set, enclosed with a few toms, a snare, a couple kicks, some symbols, chimes, and a gong. But the sound, the sound he emoted during his “Cygnus” solo was enormous.  A rainbow of lights combined on his set, making his presence almost spiritual, meditative.  Yes, at that moment, Neil Peart, you were a drumming god.  Okay, take your finger out of your mouth.  My fanboy moment is over.

The double neck guitar and bass came out for “Xanadu.” Yes, I’ll repeat that. The double neck guitar and bass came out!  Not to mention they played “Xanadu.”  The whole damn song! Geddy’s mature voice meshed well with the rendition, and Lifeson’s guitar came across cleanly, which was an issue during the earlier set, well, at least up in the sections the sound engineer says, “who cares” to.  I don’t know if the sound guys turned Geddy down, but for some reason the production’s mix was much cleaner after the intermission.  “2112” followed with the intensity you’d expect from “2112.”  For the encore, Rush came out with a minimal stage setup and pleased older fans with four songs from their earliest records, “Lakeside Park” from Caress of Steel, and “Anthem,” “What You’re Doing,” and the fitting “Working Man” from the band’s debut.

As “Working Man” hit its closing notes, the room exploded with chants, cheers, and thanks.  R40 is the way an anniversary tour should be composed.  Through its extensive, era-spanning setlist and clever stage production, the band said goodbye in the best way possible.  Who knows, maybe they’ll come around one more time.  From St. Louis, thank you, Rush, for your dedication to fans and contributions to the progressive rock genre.

5 Days of Rush! Day 5

1.  2112

Now, for the number one pick.  As one of the hardest lists I’ve created, this pick did not come easy.  I’ll admit, I was torn between Hemispheres and 2112.  Both albums emit the best of Rush, showcasing versatility, drive, and genre bending kickassness.  Lord, I never thought I’d say this, but I almost wish the band’s heyday was shorter.  Lee, Lifeson, and Peart produced so many consistent records and worthy performances that a top five list serves as an injustice to their catalog.  Early Rush was rough, but not without hits such as “Fly By Night” and the classic, “Working Man.”  Once they found their sound, however, Rush exploded onto the market with middle fingers held high.

You see, Caress of Steel, is what we, at Reviews From the Other Side, call a colossal failure.  A solid effort, with memorable short tracks and allusions to future epics, but the record suffered financially.  When it comes down to it, that’s what matters when you want to continue making music.  The band needed life, and that meant — and I hate saying this — “selling out” or rolling up their sleeves and letting their sound evolve organically. 2112 was that “fuck you” moment that changed the industry.

Credit: Edtech

Now, look at those assholes.

So, here it is, the album that put Rush on the progressive map.  Yes, Caress of Steel tapped into the well of prog, but 1976’s 2112 hits the genre with a closed fist.  The musicianship is revolutionary, the concept creative and mysterious.  For three young chaps — do they say that in Canada? — just coming off their third album, that’s quite an accomplishment.  This was the first Rush album I listened to, and when I heard the first notes to the epic title track, I knew I was on to something.  Never had I heard a band make a 20 plus minute track sound so engaging.  Shit, the title “Temples of Syrinx” just looked awesome on the sleeve.

The gigantic title track immediately draws the listener in with an accented introduction.  Then, Lee, Lifeson, and Peart gallop into “Syrinx,” complete with Geddy’s trademark shriek.  I don’t want to go into the full song, because that would tire your little eyes out, but as a whole, the song is a cohesive piece of art, pushing and pulling to catch the listener off guard, all the while showing off each member’s growing talents.  With such a large spectrum of music, it wouldn’t be surprising if the piece scattered into a jumbled mess, but 2112 holds onto its structure, always alluding to the main melody. How they came up with those transitions, I’ll never know.

One side done.  Yes, 2112’s title track takes up a whole fucking side, that’s how big it is.  The other side, many fans and critics claim, is inconsistent and irrelevant in regards to the former monster.  Scope and ambition-wise, I’d say “of course,” but there are worthy moments within each piece.  “Train to Bangkok” is a by-the-books Rush number, a guitar driven, fun. hard rock tune with a catchy melody.  Not exactly the best the holy trinity has to offer, but is a breather after 2112’s explosiveness.  “Tears,” meanwhile, is one of the band’s more beautiful tracks.  Geddy Lee lowers his register for this tune, creating a soothing, lullaby vibe.  Technical noodling takes a back seat for this track. The musicians use more of a subtle approach, accented by mellotron and Lifeson’s expressive acoustics.

2112 is the most important album in Rush’s discography, not only in terms of influence, but the band’s longevity. Rush’s fourth output is the culmination of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart’s refusal to follow industry standards.  With one song, they evolved from a so-so hard rock band to a legendary progressive rock outfit.

Rating: 4.75

What’s next? Why, Reviews From the Other Side Rush R40 concert review, of course!  Say that ten times, really fast.  Check the review out, Saturday, May 16.

Disclaimer:  Featured image found on http://s101.photobucket.com/user/conversationpc/media/2112back.jpg.html.  Body image found on http://edtech.mcc.edu/~spainter/comw100/project2a/alex.html.  All rights and content of the images belong to the artist. No profits have been made from said images.  If the owner finds such usage offensive, feel free to contact me and I will take down the image immediately.

5 Days of Rush! Day 4

2. Hemispheres

Is that not the most prog album art ever conceived? I mean, you got a naked guy pointing longingly at another guy in a suit and cane, both standing on a brain. Deserts, brains, and an Eastern-style logo. What else could you ask for from prog pioneers, Rush?

Okay!  Now, as I stayed up last night thinking of which Rush album deserved first place, I came to a crossroads between my two picks.  Not spoiling the top selection — you’ve probably already guessed it, anyways  — I threw out standards because, let’s face it, reviews aren’t about standards.  Reviews are about how much you like the damn thing!  So, to be the most unprofessional as I possibly can, Rush’s 1978 LP, Hemispheres, ranks above Permanent Waves because I just like it more as a cohesive whole.  The album is a progressive masterwork, hinting towards future projects, but, overall, reflecting the peak of Rush’s ambition.  Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart kick off on all cylinders from the get go, and conclude with one of the best instrumentals ever recorded.  Yes, I went there.  Let’s go!

“Cygnus X-1 Book II: Hemispheres” explodes with guitar chords before entering a complex march.  Lee’s bass dominates this track, complementing Neil Peart’s accents nicely. This, behind 2112, is the album that defined the prog epic, where we get not one, but two tracks surpassing the 8 minute mark.  If I had one complaint for the progressive genre, I’d bang my head over the never ending noodlery.  I’d say wankery, but that’s been overused on RFTOS.  Many bands, especially modern prog bands, suffer from too much freedom.  Instead of composing songs, they craft dueling solos and nonsensical, extended passages, sacrificing direction for vanity.  A little guidance would help, along with a little “hey, we need to get this moving” attitude, but that’s not the case with Hemispheres.  The band members utilized their ambition, but never deviated from the songwriting process in favor of glorified jam sessions.  “Cygnus” is the culmination of this process.  And it’s a hell of a track, displaying the band at its best, with spacey keyboards, complex guitar chords, and adventurous lyrics.

The next two tracks, “Circumstances,” and “The Trees” add accessibility to the album.  I’ve always thought “Circumstances” as under-appreciated.  I don’t blame the fans and critics.  It’s easy to forget a hard rocker when said track is surrounded by three musical juggernauts.  Fans of Geddy’s higher, mouse-like voice should jump for joy during the track’s chorus, with its stand-up-and-shout chorus.  It’s just a catchy song, a breath of fresh air from the complexity of the previous number.  Meanwhile, “The Trees” bends genres, adding folk elements to the band’s repertoire.  Now, I’ll admit, I cringe every time at  “The Trees” lyrics, which is a commentary on social status, all told through a grand metaphor of oaks and maples.  Maybe it’s Geddy’s delivery; maybe it’s the metaphor.  Either way, the vocals walk the line of ridiculousness.  It’s so Canadian, it makes me want to cry maple syrup and apologize for the mess.  The music, however, is absolutely outstanding.  Peart smashes his drums on this song and shows he’s not only precise, but powerful.  During the midsection, he even explores more percussive avenues.  I’ll admit it, when I heard those wood blocks, I smiled like an idiot. You can tell he’s really passionate about those poor maples.

The band reached its absolute peak, songwriting-wise, with the album’s closer, “La Villa Strangiato.” A micro and macro instrumental accomplishment, the track challenges each member’s creativity.  This is Alex Lifeson’s song. Opening with Spanish-style guitar, the guitarist throws down some of his most thoughtful licks and riffs. “La Villa” then descends into a moody section, and it is here where Rush’s guitar reaches its absolute peak.   Lifeson builds from a Gilmour-esque moan to a bombastic, heart wrenching climax. This is, without a doubt, the guitarist’s greatest achievement.  Subtle, expressive, but technical all the same. What a sneaky bastard, you are! The track moves quickly, transitioning between sections flawlessly, and never feels nine minutes long.

Hemispheres explores all of the musical avenues and lyrics from Rush’s previous albums.  On the album, you’ll hear 2112, you’ll hear A Farewell To Kings, you’ll even hear some Fly By Night, but what separates this album is the band’s disregard for its own standards.  Peart, Lee, and Lifeson weren’t quite at their most mature, but they were definitely at their most ambitious.  And that solidifies Hemispheres spot at number 2 on 5 Days of Rush.

Rating: 4.75/5

Disclaimer:  Featured image found on http://jestormbringer.blogspot.com/2011/09/rush-cygnus-x-1-duology.html. All rights and content of the image belong to the artist.  No profits have been made from said image.

5 Days of Rush!

Credit: Altalamotox

It’s only fitting that Reviews From the Other Side dedicates the week to one of progressive rock’s finest.  So, I’ve decided to review and discuss five of Rush’s quintessential albums.  At the end of the week, I don’t know, maybe I’ll post a top 10 of something or another.  And there’ll be a show review at some point, so stay tuned!

Either way, May 8 started what will most likely be Rush’s  last major tour, appropriately titled the R40 tour.  40 years of geeky, inspirational prog, played before millions of air drummers.  And then there’ll be me, strumming at my air bass, looking all proud like I’m the only one that notices the bass player.  Who am I kidding? Who doesn’t know what Geddy Lee is known for? Well, besides the mouse voice?  Okay, no more banter with myself. Let’s kick it off!

5.  Clockwork Angels

You’re probably thinking, “Why start with their newest album? Aged bands rarely ever drop average, let alone excellent albums!”  Sorry to bust your hypothetical bubble, but 2012’s Clockwork Angels highlights not only Rush’s maturity, but the band’s ability to adapt.  Within lies a heavy edge, an opportunity to follow the classic Rush formula, all the while pushing progressive rock and metal to their limit.  Speaking of which, I’ve always been mystified by metal’s immortalization of Rush.  Yes, they’re heavy — see “BU2B” on Clockwork Angels — and deal with more thought provoking lyrical themes, but the band never exactly emitted the metal attitude in their music. What’s the metal attitude? Well, it’s like obscenity.  You’ll know it when you see it.  Rush were always more of a hard rock turned progressive rock in lieu of Yes than a prog metal juggernaut. Clockwork Angels, however, changes that opinion drastically.  The albums melts faces, pummels chests, and waters eyes all at the same time.

Oh, and Neil Peart’s still got it.  Just look at his kit set up for the 2013 Clockwork Angels Tour.

Credit: Roberta Baker

Is that not the definition of nerdy, steam punk badassness?

The band meant business this time around.  Clockwork Angels opens with “Caravan,” a prelude of sorts to the concept of the album, courtesy of Neil Peart’s storytelling.  I don’t want to get too deep into the concept, but basically the album is a steam punk epic, following a high minded dreamer as he faces perils during his long travels. Kevin J. Anderson adapted the concept into a  novel if you’re interested in the full story.  “Caravan” does well as an introduction musically, highlighting strings and Geddy Lee’s still impressive vocals.

The musicianship is astonishing for three guys in their 60’s.  Alex Lifeson, for example, really comes through during “Carvan[‘s]” instrumental section, in which his guitar distorts an already weird soundscape.  Lifeson never really got the respect he deserved.  Sure, he’s won awards and is the guitarist of Rush, but talent-wise, he’s overlooked.  Hell, Reviews From the Other Side overlooked him in its  Top Ten Guitarists list.  Here, he comes out and drives the music onward.  Geddy provides some interesting bass lines, his fingers still throwing fire across his fret board.  The title track, “Seven Cities of Gold,” and “Headlong Flight” feature some of his best bass work.

And Peart, well, just look at that picture again.

After just a few seconds, it’s already apparent that Clockwork Angels suffers from average production.  The overall sound is notably compressed, which takes away from the general feel. I’m all for bass being brought forward, but at times, that’s all I can hear.  As a three piece, Rush is known for its larger than life sound.  Although instrumentally brilliant, the album sounds like three musicians playing together, taking away from their trademark blare.

That’s not to take away from the songwriting, however.  There isn’t a dull moment on the record.  Pushing and pulling at all the right places, listeners experience epics, hard rockers, power ballads.  There’s even a doomy track, “The Wreckers.” Experience can be looked at either as a breath of fresh air or a final exhale.  Luckily, Rush’s output on Clockwork Angels feels inspired by their experience rather than held down.  The aforementioned track, for example, highlights Peart’s heart wrenching, but reflective lyrics:

All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary of a miracle too good to be true/All I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary everything in life you thought you knew/All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary, ’cause sometimes the target is you.

– Neil Peart, “The Wreckers,” Rush

Imagine those lyrics on Fly By Night.  Peart, throughout his lyrical career, laid down philosophy, fantasy, science fiction, but when it came to more emotional subjects, his writing bordered on preachy.  “The Wreckers” feels honest and relatable, abandoning fantasy for humanity.  Also, if Rush had a swansong, “The Garden” fits the bill perfectly with its beautiful message, lyrics, and melody.  During the bridge, Alex Lifeson cranks out his own “High Hopes”-esque solo, which leads the album to a tearjerking finish.  “The Garden” may even be Rush’s most beautiful ballad, but that’s up to you guys.

So, what separates this album from the rest of Rush’s discography? How is such an averagely produced album ranked higher than, say, Subdivisions, Fly By Night, and A Farewell to Kings? Oh, spoiler alert!  Clockwork Angels is a statement, that the band lasts creatively in their post-maturity stage.  It embodies progressive rock, throwing convention — you know, the let’s write an acoustic album phase — out the door and embraces its audience wholeheartedly, defying expectations.  Maybe their last album, maybe not, but either way it accomplishes what it was made for.  And that has to be respected, especially from three guys who have worked creatively together their whole lives.

Rating: 4.5/5

Disclaimer: All rights, property, and content of the header image belongs to altalamatox on Deviantart.  All rights, property and content of the body image belong to Roberta Baker on Flikr. I, in no way, have used said images for profit.  Images shrunk for size.