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“The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage.”
— Thucydides

“A civilization that feels guilty for everything it is and does will lack the energy and conviction to defend itself.”
— Jean-François Revel
Showing posts with label Rush (the band). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rush (the band). Show all posts

Rush: Something for Nothing

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

This is the final post in a series of six, in which I’m lyricblogging the 1976 Rush album 2112. To start at the beginning, see the post that started it all here.

“Something for Nothing” is the gem and culmination of 2112, the part I’ve been most eager to get to — a song I can listen to again and again, and a parting bit of imparted wisdom that sticks deep in your mind where it belongs.

Neil Peart (Rush’s peerless drummer and primary lyricist) is well known for having drawn inspiration from Ayn Rand’s “Objectivist” philosophy, and he has surely produced no more direct expression of that influence than in “Something for Nothing”, which is both a wake-up call to the dreamer who has yet to back his plans up with committed and decisive action, and a fierce defense of the individual’s right to take pride in and enjoy profit from his own hard-won achievements.

“Something for Nothing” is a worthy anthem to rouse you to action when you crawl reluctantly out of bed in the morning, or to keep in your head through late night entrepreneurial labors of love when exhaustion might drive others to their comfortable beds. Its bold, ringing declaration has surely changed my life for the better, and I hope it will do the same for others.

Something for Nothing

Waiting for the winds of change
To sweep the clouds away
Waiting for the rainbow’s end
To cast its gold your way
Countless ways
You pass the days

Waiting for someone to call
And turn your world around
Looking for an answer to
The question you have found
Looking for
An open door

You don’t get something for nothing
You can’t have freedom for free
You won’t get wise with the sleep still in your eyes
No matter what your dream might be

What you own is your own kingdom
What you do is your own glory
What you love is your own power
What you live is your own story
In your head is the answer
Let it guide you along
Let your heart be the anchor
And the beat of your own song

You don’t get something for nothing
You can’t have freedom for free
You won’t get wise with the sleep still in your eyes
No matter what your dream might be

Previous: Tears

2112The Complete Album

  1. 2112
  2. A Passage to Bangkok
  3. The Twilight Zone
  4. Lessons
  5. Tears
  6. Something for Nothing

Rush: Tears

This is the fifth post in a series of six, in which I’m lyricblogging the 1976 Rush album 2112. To start at the beginning, see the post that started it all here.

“Tears” is where the album gets philosophically interesting to me again, as its longing, reflective lyrics seem to pose a profound question about the value of compassion and its limits.

“What would touch me deeper?”, the song asks, “Tears that fall from eyes that only cry?” Tears draw our natural sympathy, but their meaning is diluted when coming from someone for whom we know they flow frequently and freely.

“Would it touch you deeper, than tears that fall from eyes that know why?” Whose tears carry the greater sorrow, or should be ascribed the greater gravity? Those of the ignorant and consequently helpless, or the more reservedly given tears of one who sees and understands the world through the lens of reason, and is moved by a deeper understanding of its workings and flaws?

Tears

All of the seasons and all of the days
All of the reasons why I’ve felt this way
So long…
So long

Then lost in that feeling I looked in your eyes
I noticed emotion and that you had cried
For me,
I can see

What would touch me deeper…
Tears that fall from eyes that only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from eyes that know why?

A lifetime of questions, tears on your cheek
I tasted the answers and my body was weak
For you,
The truth.

What would touch me deeper…
Tears that fall from eyes that only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from eyes that know why?

Previous: Lessons | Next: Something for Nothing

2112The Complete Album

  1. 2112
  2. A Passage to Bangkok
  3. The Twilight Zone
  4. Lessons
  5. Tears
  6. Something for Nothing

Rush: Lessons

This is the fourth post in a series of six, in which I’m lyricblogging the 1976 Rush album 2112. To start at the beginning, see the post that started it all here.

“Lessons” picks up the mood with an upbeat, rambling riff and largely optimistic lyrics to match. The impression I get is of a joyous homecoming, as might be experienced by the guitar-discovering protagonist of 2112 in encountering the world he had only dreamt of, or perhaps by members of the Elder Race, as they returned to reclaim their home planet. The choruses in between the upbeat bits evoke the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx, protesting that their demands of conformity to The Plan have gone unheeded. Their reprimands appear to be in vain, as the song ends on an upswing, fading off merrily over the horizon.

Lessons

Sweet memories
Flashing very quickly by
Reminding me
And giving me a reason why
I know that
My goal is more than a thought
I’ll be there
When I teach
What I’ve been taught
And I’ve been taught…

You know we’ve told you before
But you didn’t hear us then
So you still question why
No! You didn’t listen again!

You didn’t listen again!

Sweet memories
I never thought it would be like this
Reminding me
Just how close I came to missing
I know that
This is the way for me to go
You’ll be there
When you know what I know
And I know…

You know we’ve told you before
But you didn’t hear us then
So you still question why
No! You didn’t listen again!

You didn’t listen again!

Previous: The Twilight Zone | Next: Tears

2112The Complete Album

  1. 2112
  2. A Passage to Bangkok
  3. The Twilight Zone
  4. Lessons
  5. Tears
  6. Something for Nothing

Rush: A Passage to Bangkok

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

This is the second post in a series of six, in which I’m lyricblogging the 1976 Rush album 2112. To start at the beginning, see the post that started it all yesterday here.

I had a lot to write about the album’s title track, “2112”, which is quite long and dense with interesting material, and seemed in need of detailed description/explanation. For this second track, “A Passage to Bangkok” (which, it may relieve you to learn, is only three and a half minutes long) and some others, I’ll largely just post the lyrics — in no small part because the song’s role in the overall story is still a bit of an enigma to me.

My best guess so far is that it describes the return to Earth of the “Elder Race of Man” mentioned in the title track — which, interestingly, would seem to imply that the ominous chant of “We have assumed control” that’s repeated at the end of the previous track is not a malevolent declaration by the Priests of the Temple of Syrinx, but a proclamation by the Elder Race that they’ve arrived “to (re)claim the home where they belong”. Having returned home after a long exile, they travel the planet to survey all the old familiar places.

That’s just a guess though. This stuff is pretty out there. Rarely can Rush be accused of unimaginative lyrics…

A Passage to Bangkok

Our first stop is in Bogota
To check Columbian fields
The natives smile and pass along
A sample of their yield
Sweet Jamaican pipe dreams
Golden Acapulco nights
Then Morocco, and the East,
Fly by morning light

We’re on the train to Bangkok
Aboard the Thailand Express
We’ll hit the stops along the way
We only stop for the best

Wreathed in smoke in Lebanon
We burn the midnight oil
The fragrance of Afghanistan
Rewards a long day’s toil
Pulling into Katmandu
Smoke rings fill the air
Perfumed by a Nepal night
The Express gets you there

We’re on the train to Bangkok
Aboard the Thailand Express
We’ll hit the stops along the way
We only stop for the best

More to come…

Previous: 2112 | Next: The Twilight Zone

2112The Complete Album

  1. 2112
  2. A Passage to Bangkok
  3. The Twilight Zone
  4. Lessons
  5. Tears
  6. Something for Nothing

Rush: 2112

An unusual sort of offering, perhaps — presented for your consideration in observance of Inauguration 2009:

This is the first post in a series, in which I’m planning to lyricblog the six tracks of the extraordinary 1976 Rush album 2112, one post per song. Writing about some of the music and song lyrics that have greatly affected my life and thinking is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while (I also have Rush’s excellent “A Farewell to Kings” and “Hemispheres” in my sights as future projects), and with the Changes that are imminent here in the U.S. I find the themes embodied in 2112 are especially on my mind. Rockstars who lay claim to defiant rebellion are legion, but to me, there is nothing more authentically rock ‘n roll than rebelling against statism in the way that this album succeeds in doing.

I’m hoping the results may be as interesting to others as the idea of the project has felt to me. If the amateur commentary I’ve presented here looks insufferably long and boring, however, please feel free to skip this series and just take it as an enthusiastic recommendation to have a listen to 2112 yourself. Among other places (without endorsing any particular vendor; just providing the links as a convenience), the album can be purchased on iTunes, as well as on Amazon as either an MP3 download or a physical CD (remember those?).

The published lyrics for 2112 include some backstory narrative that isn’t spoken or sung in the recording. I’ve decided to omit that text here and focus on the album as you’ll actually hear it. A search for Rush+2112+lyrics will turn up numerous sites that have the full published lyrics with the narrative text included.

I’ve given the album a lot of thought since first discovering it sometime around 2003, but my interpretation is certainly not the only one, or even necessarily consistent with the band’s intent. (I’m a fan as a listener, but haven’t read up on what the band or others had to say about 2112’s theme and meaning.) Have a listen and see what you think. Rush are in general known for song themes inspired by Ayn Rand’s “Objectivist” philosophy, and 2112 is certainly a prime example of that.

OK, enough introductory rambling. With that, I invite you to brace for the ride and queue up the album’s title track: “2112”. At 20 minutes, this is a long one, but I promise it’s well worth the journey.

I. Overture

0:00 Ear-assailing yet delightfully campy electronic sounds (this is indeed the finest in 1970s progressive rock!) whirl in — oscillating, screeching, conjuring a sci-fi UFO landing. Perfectly synchronized drums, bass, and power chords pop in at 0:46, Rush’s trademark use of precise stops and starts, tempo changes, and free time already making their appearance. (By the way: Best. Drummer. Ever.)

Around 1:30 the band picks up into a galloping riff that brings to mind a charge of horses. Distant voices swirl in the background, then around 1:58 we get triumphant, anthemic guitar work over sustained chords. 2:30 brings the Temples of Syrinx theme, then at 3:04 a wailing, troubled guitar solo, chock full o’ feeling. At 3:33 a switch to yet another whole new riff. (Rush packs more good hooks into this one song than many bands do into an entire album.) Then at 4:07 a reference to the famous finale melody of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.

At 4:16, crashes of synchronized drums, bass, and guitar over explosions, fading away as if we were at 2112’s own finale already … but then at 4:25 come the first of the lyrics (yes, believe it or not there really are lyrics to this song!) — a gentle, phased-guitar-accompanied:

And the meek shall inherit the earth…

II. Temples of Syrinx

4:34 The tempo picks up to a trot again, and we’re greeted by the shrill chorus of the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx: ostensibly benevolent engineers of the future utopia of 2112 — omnipotent keepers of the culture and its art — shrieking the justification for their all-encompassing rule:

We’ve taken care of everything
The words you hear, the songs you sing
The pictures that give pleasure to your eyes.
It’s one for all and all for one
We work together, common sons
Never need to wonder how or why.

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.

Look around at this world we’ve made
Equality our stock in trade
Come and join the Brotherhood of Man
Oh, what a nice, contented world
Let the banners be unfurled
Hold the Red Star proudly high at hand.

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests, of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.

6:35 Tight guitar+bass+drum strikes punctuate this declaration, then a bit of classical guitar fades the song out.

III. Discovery

6:46 The trickle of a waterfall fades in, mingling with the sound of a guitar being tuned. Not the usual polished stuff of a studio album, to be sure, but there’s a protagonist being introduced and a story being told here. A resident of the futureworld of Syrinx has found a dusty guitar behind a waterfall in a cave — an object that to him is completely foreign and mysterious in its purpose. As our hero handles the strange object, he discovers that it can be made to produce sounds, even music. (“How different it could be from the music of the Temples!” he proclaims in the liner notes. “I can’t wait to tell the priests about it!” — presaging a song passage soon to come.)

8:00 The tentative exploration gives way to melody, harmonics, chords as our friend learns to play (pretty quickly I might add, but we have to listen so who’s complaining). Then strumming and the beginnings of a contemplative song as our protagonist seems to start getting the hang of it:

What can this strange device be?
When I touch it, it gives forth a sound
It’s got wires that vibrate and give music
What can this thing be that I found?

8:49 The strumming picks up into a bright, upbeat riff that dances about with the joy of discovery, then slows reflectively again as he sings:

See how it sings like a sad heart
And joyously screams out its pain
Sounds that build high like a mountain
Or notes that fall gently like rain.

9:46 A hopeful new chord progression evolves, and with it a determination to tell others of his discovery:

I can’t wait to share this new wonder
The people will all see its light
Let them all make their own music!
The Priests praise my name on this night!

IV. Presentation

10:14 Heart wide open, expecting to be greeted by nothing but enthusiasm for his miraculous new find, the unsuspecting hero of our story makes his presentation before the Priests:

I know it’s most unusual
To come before you so
But I’ve found an ancient miracle
I thought that you should know
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.

11:10 The Priests interrupt. Instead of showing interest, they dismiss his find outright in implacable unison:

Yes, we know, it’s nothing new
It’s just a waste of time
We have no need for ancient ways
Our world is doing fine
Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of Man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn’t fit the plan.

11:47 Incredulous, our protagonist implores the Priests to reconsider:

I can’t believe you’re saying
These things just can’t be true
Our world could use this beauty
Just think what we might do.
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.

12:23 His pleas are again rebuffed:

Don’t annoy us further!
We have our work to do.
Just think about the average
What use have they for you?
Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of Man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn’t fit the Plan!

And with that, the Priests’ theme picks up into a wailing guitar solo over rapid bass and drum work. It’s clear that it’s pretty much Game Over for our friend’s helpful suggestion as far as the Priests are concerned.

V. Oracle: The Dream

13:57 Dreamy far-off phased guitar strums in, as our crestfallen young man reflects on this unexpected defeat:

I wandered home though the silent streets
And fell into a fitful sleep
Escape to realms beyond the night
Dream can’t you show me the light?

14:47 Cue more far out 70s prog.-rock synth work! Then triumphant chords as the wished-for dream arrives and changes everything, conjuring hope from despair:

I stand atop a spiral stair
An oracle confirms me there
He leads me on, light years away
Through astral nights, galactic days
I see the works of gifted hands
That grace this strange and wondrous land
I see the hand of man arise
With hungry mind and open eyes

They left our planets long ago
The elder race still learn and grow
Their power grows with purpose strong
To claim the home where they belong
Home to tear the Temples down…
Home to change!

VI. Soliloquy

16:00 This has got to be one of my favorite moments on the album. Our protagonist awakens from his dream, and seems to realize with both faint hope and resigned despair that the world he lives in is not the world he was meant for, the world that could be. The “sleep is still in my eyes” meme also lays the groundwork for the album’s finale and possible moral, in the final track “Something For Nothing” (which I’ll get to in a future post).

The sleep is still in my eyes
The dream is still in my head
I heave a sigh and sadly smile
And lie a while in bed
I wish that it might come to pass
Not fade like all my dreams…

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

My spirits are low in the depths of despair
My lifeblood…
…spills over…

VII. The Grand Finale

18:19 Even in this moment of narrative despair, the band can’t seem to resist picking it up with more rockin’ riffs. Transitioning into the a struggling, neurotic, ultimately spiraling all-out cavalry charge, they end with a climax of climbing anthemic chords, feedback-charged soloing, and explosive noise as a malevolent-sounding voice rings out as if from the sky:

Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
We have assumed control.
We have assumed control.
We have assumed control.

Indeed.

There is plenty that can be gleaned from or said about this unusual bit of epic rock-opera. Listening it today has left me with this thought:

The United States of America is Liberty’s natural and rightful home, friends. It’s time to make our own music, in preference to accepting the vision that is being handed to us in the name of our own good. We need to start planning and preparing for the day when we can leave our state of ideological exile, and return to claim the home where we belong.

Next: A Passage to Bangkok

2112The Complete Album

  1. 2112
  2. A Passage to Bangkok
  3. The Twilight Zone
  4. Lessons
  5. Tears
  6. Something for Nothing

Prime Mover

Friday, March 21, 2008

Inspirational song lyrics of the day: Rush’s “Prime Mover”, from the Hold Your Fire album:

“Prime Mover”

Basic elemental instinct to survive
Stirs the higher passions
Thrill to be alive

Alternating currents in a tidewater surge
Rational resistance to an unwise urge

Anything can happen…

From the point of conception
To the moment of truth
At the point of surrender
To the burden of proof

From the point of ignition
To the final drive
The point of the journey is not to arrive

Anything can happen…

Basic temperamental filters on our eyes
Alter our perceptions
Lenses polarize

Alternating currents force a show of hands
Rational responses force a change of plans

Anything can happen…

From a point on the compass
To magnetic north
The point of the needle moving back and forth

From the point of entry
Until the candle is burned
The point of departure is not to return

Anything can happen…

I set the wheels in motion
Turn up all the machines
Activate the programs
And run behind the scene

I set the clouds in motion
Turn up light and sound
Activate the window
And watch the world go ‘round

From the point of conception
To the moment of truth
At the point of surrender
To the burden of proof

From the point of ignition
To the final drive
The point of a journey
Is not to arrive

Anything can happen…

A Beginning

Saturday, June 4, 2005

This is the beginning of an attempt to give something back to a country to which I feel I owe my life, and to a culture of freedom with which I am deeply in love. It is my long overdue thank-you letter to America. It is the still-unfolding story — told from inside this wonderful, imperfect bubble of relative freedom, stability and prosperity that I feel so deeply grateful to inhabit — of my own American Dream.

That last in particular is a rather loaded phrase to use these days, I have come to learn, but I leave it there with a purpose. It's the tragically baggage-laden name given to one of many concepts I intend to touch on here. Give me time and I will explain what it means to me, and why I think it is worthy of more than our derision.

Part of my approach to this project, I expect, will be telling fragments of the one story that I know best: the story that I have lived and seen with my own eyes. So it seems appropriate to begin with one such fragment, one thread drawn from the many that have run through my life:

Music has always been precious to me. The music I've known in my life has become an inextricable part of the way I remember times and places gone by, and of the way I think about the future. “Fearless Dream” is a phrase taken, in a sense, from a song I grew up with. During a pivotal phase in my life, between my friends' departures for college and embarking on my own adventures — now, I dare admit, roughly 15 years ago — one of the albums I listened to most was Rush's “Exit ... Stage Left”. It was frequently there in the background as I dreamt my own dreams and hatched my own hopeful and ambitious plans for the future. The second song on the album, “Red Barchetta,” tells the story of a young man's weekend escapes to his uncle's farm, where he takes an old roadster for harrowing white-knuckle rides down winding country roads. Geddy Lee's infamous soprano voice soars exuberantly over Neil Peart's equally famous rock-steady syncopated drumming, as guitar and bass drive the rhythm line home in tight and agile unison:

“Jump to the ground
As the turbo slows to cross the borderline.
Run like the wind of excitement
chilling up and down my spine.

For down in his barn,
my uncle preserved for me an old machine
(old in your years).
To keep it as new has been his fearless dream.

I strip away the old debris, that hides the shining car
a brilliant, red Barchetta from a better-managed time”

Or at least, that's how I always heard it. The consensus among the lyrics websites seems to be that the actual phrase is “dearest dream.” Some of the other details differ from what I remember too. But the above has stuck in my mind as what my ears always heard, and seems fitting in its own right — so, for my purposes, “fearless dream” it will always be. When I listen to the song today, those ringing words still lift my spirits as much as ever.

The phrase struck me as an appropriate title for this web log for two reasons. First — and this is a broad theme on which I hope to elaborate here — because I think it takes courage to live in a truly free society. Freedom comes with no roadmap and no warranty. Trying to figure out what to do with it can be scary as hell. It has been, at times, for me. This is something that I think most of us are not taught to expect, at least not directly. Yet acknowledging the inherent risk that goes in hand with having real freedom, and addressing the question of why living in freedom might be worth embracing the accompanying uncertainty and peril, is essential I think, if we're to have some hope of preserving this precious and hard-won gift. We must keep the answer to this key question in mind as we consider possible courses of action that can curtail freedom, or we may give it up without much of a thought.

Second, I want to make some humbly offered contribution here to illuminating and thereby hopefully helping to revitalize and preserve the ideas that have made this culture of freedom possible — ideas that I think form the essential cornerstone of our culture's success. Ideas of great prescience and beauty that we seem, from my current perspective, to be in actual danger of either forgetting or intentionally discarding. “...this brilliant, red Barchetta from a better-managed time...”

I don't think of myself as someone who's given to worrying overly much. If anything, I more often tend to fall into the middle-of-the-road “Crisis? What crisis?” category. But certain of the seemingly popular attitudes that I have encountered repeatedly since my college years have left me with the sinking feeling that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong in our perception of ourselves and our way of life. We seem to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to the hand-wringing of professional social critics, while forgetting the very good reasons for choosing to live as we do. At times, I fear we might be getting ready to throw this precious gift, born of so much sacrifice, out the window. Certainly I know people, including old and dear friends, who seem to think that the time for the American way of life, with its emphasis on individual freedom and carefully circumscribed governance, has come and gone. That we ought to replace the maxim of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and the legal and governmental framework that supports it, with something ostensibly better. If that is to be the case, then I feel the need to say my peace before it is gone. Because if we turn our backs on this idea of freedom that has been so foundational to our way of life, I think we should at least take the time to fully understand what it is that we will be giving up.

Writing this weblog is part of my way of dealing with the heartbreak of this apparent change in attitudes, attempting to understand what has caused it, and trying to figure out whether it might be reversible. Freedom has made my life possible, and it has taken me some years to appreciate just how precious and fragile it is, and to realize just how much I have taken it for granted.

There are so many interrelated ideas that I want to explore here, that it's difficult to say at the outset what the overarching, unifying theme will be. This has to do with how we think about economics, equality, responsibility, rights, science, reason, technology, art, culture, human achievement, history, and the future ... that great unknown and unknowable. I can't possibly forsee, at the outset of this project, whether I will be able to clearly articulate the many interconnections among ideas that I'm setting out to explore ... or whether I will even succeed in making the time, amid a very busy work and home life, to keep up the project. But these are things I find myself thinking about all the time, and touch on issues that I've come to think are crucial to our future. This stuff has been lodged painfully in my heart and I just have to get it out. So I will try.

I of course have my own filter, my own lens through which I see the world, which may well differ from yours. I have great confidence in the “free market in ideas” -- in your capacity as the reader to survey the wide variety of ideas that are out there and then draw your own conclusions based on the sum of the evidence and arguments presented. Critics have every right to criticize, and we have the right to ask whether what they're saying really makes sense. My aim here is only to use my one voice to say things that I think need saying. There are well-reasoned arguments to be made in favor of choosing freedom over safety and other competing demands, and I hope to shed some light on those here, for it seems we don't get much exposure to them nowadays.

In no small part, I am here to make what, much to my surprise, has become a pretty bold and audacious statement in the year 2005: that we in the United States have been needlessly losing confidence in our way of life. That we have a culture that, while it needs a little help here and there, is every bit worthy of our hope, enthusiasm, adoration, sacrifice, courage, loyalty, and devotion.

This is the beginning of an attempt to give something back to a country to which I feel I owe my life, and to a culture of freedom with which I am deeply in love. It is my long overdue thank-you letter to America. It is the still-unfolding story of my own American Dream.

Stay tuned. The best, I hope and believe, is yet to come.