Rush
2112

THE REVIEW

I already know that this album was reviewed not too long ago... but I couldn't resist the temptation to share my thoughts on the absolute masterpiece by Rush: that "2112" released just thirty years ago, and yet so astonishing it appears, even today, futuristic, beyond trends and time.
If I may indulge in a personal note, I would also like to dedicate this review to Piuma di Cristallo, who accompanies me on my journey, to Hellas, who follows me faithfully, as well as to the de-reviewers Ocram and Bisius, who have commented on even my less effective contributions with the same enthusiasm, expertise, and great musical passion. But enough with the chatter.

Making a cinematic comparison, which does not clash with Rush's inclinations, 2112 seems a bit like the monolith of 2001: A Space Odyssey, or the product of an ineffable intelligence that never ceases to communicate sensations, meanings, and emotions to us: for these reasons, the album can be seen as the unsurpassed model for many bands that attempted hard rock, prog rock, and metal in the following decades, none of which have, however, fully grasped and replicated the dimension of the music of the Toronto trio.

The album opens with the title track, a suite of about 20 minutes, superficially described as the meeting point between Led Zeppelin and Yes, when it's actually much more, both technically and conceptually. The track, based on a novella by Ayn Rand, tells the story of a young man who is a victim of a totalitarian society and accidentally discovers an old abandoned guitar in a world where music is forbidden by the Priests of the Temple of Syrinx... an anthem to creativity, individualism, and the personal quest for freedom, though with tragic conclusions. Rush's cultural references and the themes of the track earned the group some accusations of cryptofascism, though these are entirely misplaced when considering how Peart (the lyricist and main architect of the group's cultural direction) can rather be defined as a radical libertarian, quite far from totalitarianisms of any hue (though it's true that the novella from which the track was derived implicitly alludes to the iron fist of Soviet dictatorship).

From a purely musical perspective, "2112" is a piece divided into various movements, each describing the phases of the novella from which the track is derived: I) the "Overture" unsettles the listener with a synthesizer hiss leading to a burst of Lifeson's guitars, mixed to produce swirls and echoes of reverberations symbolizing the outer space and the Elsewhere in which the story unfolds; the entry of Lee's bass and Peart's thunderous drums lead to a whirlwind of progressive hard rock that explodes in a final blast and apparent calm that brings the second movement; II) "Temple of Syrinx," the second movement, is a track dear to Rush fans, for its fiery rhythms, the metallic riff of the guitar, and especially for Lee's splendid vocal interpretation, whose high notes well describe the oppressive society in which the protagonist lives. The piece, which revisits the "stop and go" of the blues in an alien and technological key, likely remains the qualitative peak of an entire career; III) "Discovery," the third movement, is introduced by a serene sound of waterfalls and waterways and describes the guitar discovery with an expressionistic masterpiece by Lifeson, evoking through uncertain notes, gentle arpeggios, and progressive development of guitar sounds, the creative power of music and the learning path of the protagonist: in the central part, the entrance of bass, voice, and drums serve to describe the protagonist's continuous evolution, the (re)birth of his individuality until the moment when...

IV) "Presentation" begins, the fourth movement of the album, a dynamic rock where the protagonist offers his guitar and his art to the Priests of the Temple, who, however, destroy it. Noteworthy in this phase is Lifeson's exceptional solo starting at the 13:00 mark of the piece, lasting a few dozen seconds, a piece of skill rarely heard in hard rock, for the balance between technique, melody, and expressiveness, ending with the beginning of... V) the fifth movement of the suite, "Oracle: The Dream," where the protagonist becomes aware of the inevitability of his fate and the repressive power of the Priests of Syrinx, who do not favor musical expression as the sum of individual autonomy. This moment is dominated by Lee's mournful and desperate singing, along with the explosive accompaniment of Lifeson and Peart, leading quickly to... VI) "Soliloquy," the sixth movement of the suite, where the protagonist, increasingly withdrawn in himself and his despair, sees death as the only way out from a world devoid of freedom... VII) until the apocalyptic "Grand Finale," characterized by explosive sounds of guitar, bass, and drums, culminating in the definitive repression, where the individual's drama merges with that of the community: Peart's affected voice ends with the sinister evocation of total control by the Solar Federation.

The second part of the album, consisting of shorter tracks where Rush synthesize their soft hard prog approach to music, is not inferior to the previous suite, rather having the merits of greater linguistic conciseness and expressive effectiveness. "A Passage to Bangkok," with oriental influences well rendered by the guitar arpeggios introducing the piece, is a hard rock where Lee's voice shines, eager to extol the virtues of an opiate tour between Bogotá, Kathmandu, and indeed, Bangkok. Excellent is Lifeson's prolonged riff and solo, and Peart's accompaniment is always impeccable. "The Twilight Zone" has the spicy flavors of mystery, characterized by a more controlled use of the guitar, which plays a plurality of rhythmic and melodic lines interwoven, along with Lee's interpretation, less aggressive than usual, yet without losing the pathos that marks every performance of his. "Lessons" is, on the other hand, a typical soft hard track where verses supported by acoustic guitar alternate with the band's electric explosions, supported by an entrancing melody: some compare the piece to certain Zeppelin tracks, but it's worth noting the differences in approach between the two bands: in Page's group, the soft hard patterns are functional for creating tension and dramatic emphasis, highlighted by Plant's often plaintive tones; in Rush, the same scheme aims rather at the outlet for the group and, by extension, the listener, at the alternating of calm and aggressiveness, with a Spannung that would make the fortunes of thousands of bands in the years to come, especially of the NWOBHM, indirectly indebted to the Toronto trio.

"Tears," on the other hand, is an acoustic ballad that aims, without too many superstructures, at moving the listener, both in lyrics and arrangement: the mission can be said to have succeeded on purely expressive grounds, being yet another well-executed piece by the whole group, although, musically, this piece is perhaps the weakest of the album, too indebted to patterns already laid down by all rock groups. The concluding "Something For Nothing" is the band's manifesto and, in my opinion, Rush's masterpiece in short tracks: exceptional lyrics urge the individual to take control of their destiny and not be crushed by anyone, blending emotions and reason in the pursuit of their perfectibility, and equally remarkable is the execution of the track: exceptionally clean and impactful guitar riffs and solos, superior level bass and vocal accompaniment, a highly dynamic drum that does not just follow or support the other instruments but guides them in a sonic ride representing the essence of Rush's sound and the best of '70s music, hoping this does not seem sacrilegious.

I do not grade the album because measuring and grading it would be pointless; those who have followed me this far, or simply know Rush, well understand what I think. All others should try listening to it, they shouldn't regret it.