But YYZ on Moving Pictures was another level. Sure, instrumental jams were reliable refuge for prog bands, and on 1978’s Hemispheres, Rush had cut La Villa Strangiato with its sub-title of An Exercise In Self-Indulgence… a bloating nine-minute instrumental in 12 distinct sections based on Lifeson’s nightmares. Track 3 on Moving Pictures, was an instrumental. Image: Paul Natkin / Getty Images Shall we sing this instrumental? Red Barchetta is another enduring fan favourite, its motoring (pun intended) energy providing a relentless distillation of Rush’s new-found power.Īlex Lifeson. Even when Peart did pen future fantasies, as on Track 2 Red Barchetta’s tale of a world where cars are banned, it turned out he was actually strangely prescient. Rush had been here before of course, notably in the elaborate fables of 2112, but on Moving Pictures the Peart-penned morality tales felt more grounded in a real world, not some future sci-fi dystopia. Anti-authoritarianism, individualism and liberty were at the core of Moving Pictures. This was just the opening cut on a first side (in old LP terms) that saw Rush hit peak performance. Just the way it starts – it had to open the record.” “We don’t like to think about the album sequence until we’re done recording everything,” Lifeson later reflected, “but I think Tom Sawyer was always going to be the opener. ![]() Honest! I came in, did five takes, then went off and had a cigarette.” All told, this was a power-chording blast… apart from the expected time-shifting, prog-mungous guitar soloing section. Peart’s drums too, combine his usual poly-rhythmic power with some new strutting attitude. Lee’s growing fascination with his Oberheim OB-X synth provided some intro growl and Lifeson’s chord patterns, although typical of his ringing, open-stringed voicings, stripped back any unnecessary “widdle”. The melody that Lee and Lifeson conjured for what was now called Tom Sawyer wasn’t a massive change in the Rush sound: but is was certainly more sprightly. I added the themes of reconciling the boy and man in myself, and the difference between what people are and what others perceive them to be – namely me, I guess.” ![]() “ original lyrics were kind of a portrait of a modern-day rebel, a free-spirited individualist striding through the world wide-eyed and purposeful. Bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Geddy Lee later noted, however, that The Camera Eye was “the last really epic song we wrote.” The first track they apparently completed for Moving Pictures was the 10-minute multi-themed The Camera Eye, something of a return to full-on 70s prog mode. The band spent a ‘studio vacation’ at ( Bob Dylan sidekick) Ronnie Hawkins’ barn studio outside Toronto in summer 1980, and it yielded plenty of new ideas.Īlthough Lifeson says they had found a way of writing “shorter punchier songs”, it didn’t start like that at all. They were only heading back to record again – eventually at Le Studio, Morin-Heights, Quebec, their favoured studio from Permanent Waves (1980) through to Grace Under Pressure (1984) – because friends had convinced them they needed to capitalise quickly on the popularity of The Spirit Of Radio. That was no surprise, as the trio had been incredibly prolific since their 1974 debut, releasing an album (often conceptual) every year and touring extensively. Rush went into Moving Pictures with a blank slate. Luckily, it was a hit and notably, 2112 remains a favourite 70s indulgence of Foo Fighters Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins. ![]() This was a band who, on the verge of being dropped in 1976, went ahead anyway and cut the none-more-proggy concept album 2112. There were probably many who doubted Rush had any real mainstream potential back then. In guitarist Alex Lifeson’s words, “We began writing in a tighter, more economical form.”Īnd if Permanent Waves saw Rush apply new edits, the following year’s Moving Pictures was more akin to having a whole new director. The Canadians had only just found chart fame, with 1980’s Permanent Waves birthing their first real hit in The Spirit Of Radio. There were few prog bands who made the leap seamlessly, retaining old audiences while conquering new ones. In proggy tricky time signatures, of course. King Crimson – which is basically whatever Robert Fripp says it is – reconvened with a new lineup, nicking Adrian Belew from Talking Heads/ Zappa/Bowie bands to make angular, artful noisy noo wave. Genesis edged towards ultra-sleek pop-rock, with 1980’s Duke being the trio’s last truly ‘progressive’ LP: from thereon, it was ‘Phil Collins and those other two guys’. (The band had wanted to call the new outfit Cinema, but bowed to record company pressure… some appalled veteran fans dismissed them as ‘Yeggles’ anyway.) The Buggles’ Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes shocked everyone by joining a then-splintered Yes in 1980, and helped steer them towards MTV with the likes of Owner Of A Lonely Heart.
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