Here’s a long excerpt from Michael H. Little’s review of Rush’s “A Farewell to Kings.”
Once upon a time, in that purely mythical land called Canada, a power trio called Rush sat down and said, “Let us abandon our blues-based approach to rock, and mold a new reality, closer to the heart. Featuring lots of Renaissance Faire type 12-string guitar shit and long and meandering conceptual songs featuring unnecessarily complex time signatures and lots of cool glockenspiel and dumb fantasy lyrics that will blow 14-year-old minds.”
And true to their word our power-prog triumvirate went on to forge their creativity, and the result was 1977’s A Farewell to Kings, which depending on how you look at things is either one very deep prog-nasty foray into the philosophy of the lamentable Ayn Rand or one of the greatest comedy albums of our time. The great thing about A Farewell to Kings is you can’t lose . . .
I like the majestic opening of “A Farewell to Kings,” but I withdraw my allegiance the moment Lee opens his Big Bird mouth. Alex Lifeson plays some great guitar shortly thereafter, but like I said before: I’m simply incapable of putting up with Lee’s pipes long enough to get to Lifeson’s playing. “Cinderella Man” is Ayn Rand set to music; our Cinderella Man shows his riches to the poor as an incentive for them to get up off their lazy asses and work, because sharing his wealth would be, well, immoral. This Rand person would have gotten along wonderfully with Donald Trump . . .
I used to hate “Closer to the Heart” until I realized that it was one of the funniest songs ever to make it onto FM radio. Now I know its words by heart and turn it on whenever I need a laugh. Its sincerity of message is altogether risible, especially when one realizes that in Ayn Rand’s world what getting closer to the heart really means is embracing laissez-faire capitalism and utterly rejecting ethical altruism. Fuck the poor! . . .
The Village Voice’s Robert Christgau called A Farewell to Kings-era Rush “the most obnoxious band currently making a killing on the zonked teen circuit,” but can 30 million Rush fans (I just picked that number out of a hat) really be wrong? Yes and no. I will forever hold that the combination of Lee’s voice and the band’s preening progressive rock impulses are the very definition of obnoxiousness. But Rush seem to mark a necessary stage in the development of many young music fans, in the same way that Frank Zappa did in mine. What I find worrisome are those who never outgrow them. To these folks all I can say is, it’s time to mold a new reality, you know, closer to the heart. Closer to the heart!
A couple of things here: Little is dead-on is his estimation of Rush’s audience, at least relative to my own experience. I had a friend growing up who got turned on to Rush when he started playing in his own band in high school; me, I was indifferent. I liked “Moving Pictures” when it came out, but I think some of that was a sink or swim reaction, because it was everywhere at the time. But after that surge in airplay, I assumed my posture of indifference to Geddy and the boys, while my pal continued to sing their praises. Then one morning in the ninth grade I listened to Red Barchetta (you know, really listened, maaaaan) before leaving for school and it bowled me over. Looking back, I realize it was probably because it’s a song about a kid driving a bitchin’ car, and I was obsessed with getting my driver’s license and gaining all the freedom I was certain it represented. And so I came to own Rush albums, including “A Farewell to Kings.” The song Closer to the Heart got a good amount of airplay around this time, and I admit to a certain zeal for a well-placed glockenspiel, so I was good with it.
Thankfully, I neither knew anything about Rand’s objectivism, nor did I give Rush’s lyrics too much thought. I say thankfully, because I can picture 16-year-old me becoming an obnoxious Randian. That’s one bullet of youth I managed to dodge. I made it to college before someone caused me to read Rand (The Fountainhead), and my reaction was a shrug and a slight wish that I had the time back. The most Randian member of Rush, Alex Lifeson has himself moved past the ideology , and I guess I pity him in that for most people, their brush with objectivism ends up amounting to a couple of second hand paperbacks, some barely remembered “deep” discussions with friends and maybe an objectivist-leaning essay answer in college, but for Lifeson, he’s got that phase immortalized on vinyl.
I still have my Rush vinyl, and I’ll never get rid of them. Do they keep the young man in me alive? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just good to know that I can find some tasty glockenspiel licks should the need arise.