Back To Blighty
The band had done its time in Toronto Sound, and was looking for a change. ‘All The World’s A Stage’ had been a chore, and the relentless touring, interviewing and other complications meant any new material was nowhere near complete when the band headed for the Electric Lady studios in New York, a frequent location for past tour-mates Kiss. There was a near-complete, longer song called ‘Xanadu’ and another shorter track, ‘Closer to The Heart’ was also studio-ready… but that was it. The time in New York did enable the band to write a number of songs and experiment with some new sounds. Nothing really seemed to gel, however. The US feel of the studio didn’t seem quite right for a band that had been steeping itself in the music of UK bands such as Genesis, Van Der Graaf Generator and Yes. Of course, having already decided to tour there, the logical choice would be to go to Britain instead… but would that be taking an idea too far?
Nobody seemed to think so, particularly a band of brothers who were getting quite used to doing what they wanted. “Not my decision, but one I was very happy to go along with,” laughs Terry Brown. “The boys felt that it would be a nice change to go somewhere else other than my studio.” The plan, hastily formulated, was to do more than recognise the UK-sourced influences of Rush’s music, by attending the same studios and using the same engineers as their progressive heroes. Said Geddy at the time, “We’ve always looked up to the English progressive bands and it’s gonna be a good opportunity to go over there and try to capture the same sort of atmosphere.” All the same, the trio wanted to retain the hard edge that made Rush unique. Said Neil, “We looked at the roots we had, which was hard rock music, but we decided that there was a lot more we could do with it. We decided that what we wanted to do was a combination of progressive music and hard rock.”
At the end of May 1977, following a second live onslaught on the hard-bitten cities of North East America, the band and their entourage climbed aboard a plane at Toronto’s Pearson international airport – the one with the YYZ call sign – and headed for Heathrow. On arrival of course, the band had some gigs to play. Journalist Geoff Barton was looking forward to the tour, having already been over to Toronto to see Rush play, in support of Aerosmith. “I was quite delighted to see Aerosmith, but the thing that swung it for me was the fact Rush were supporting,” says Geoff. “It was only a 40-minute set but seeing them live I realised they could reproduce what they were doing on the record, so they weren’t beavering away in the studio without actually doing stuff, they were a genuine live band as well.”
In all, the band played 8 dates over the first two weeks of June, including a brief foray onto the continent, playing the Gjta Lejon in Stockholm, Sweden. Not least, having risen to the challenge of US audiences, the band found their European counterparts somewhat more respectful. The latent audience having developed through the import catalogue, meant that Rush went straight in to filling reasonable sized concert halls, much to the band’s surprise. “We just expected small to average crowds,” said Alex. “When we realised how strong the fan level was, we were totally blown away.”
Unsurprising they’d no inkling – nor had Mercury UK. The first date at Sheffield’s City Hall was attended by Geoff Barton who had called the record company, as a journalist would, for a press pass. “They barely knew Rush were over!” laughs Geoff. “I remember I had to drive up and pay my way in, which was incredibly unusual for the music press, particularly in the seventies, when you’re used to having everything laid at your feet.” Of course, it was no laughing matter for the band or SRO, who expected more from their label. All of this reinforced the band’s “us against the world” position, clearly there was still work to do.
With the mini-tour under its belt, it was time to record. Initially the plan was to use George Martin’s AIR Studios in London, but they were not available so Terry Brown proposed the residential Rockfield Studios, near Monmouth in South Wales. Remarks Geoff, who stopped by for a visit, “They were definitely awake when I was down there! It was a nice environment, it was perfectly suited to Rush at that point, obviously in the middle of nowhere… I think that at that time Rush were still fairly mystical and the environment where that album was recorded was very suitable to their mood at that time. It’s a real snapshot, it’s a real moment in time.” For Neil perhaps, some of the surroundings were a little too evocative – not least the cow barns, which had that unmistakeable smell of his childhood.
Once at Rockfield, the band slipped quite easily into the routine it had worked out with Terry. “We’d spend a couple of days getting sounds together, and then we’d embark on rehearsing in the studio,” explains Terry. The priority was laying down the drum tracks. “We would cut a tune in its entirety, but we wouldn’t be trying to get finished guitar and bass sounds. All the pressure was on Neil really, in the first week. Then we’d overdub hundreds of guitars and basses!” However, it was at this time that the band passed a noble law, to ensure that the band was capable of reproducing live, what it had done in the studio recording. Explained Alex, “When I was young, going to concerts and not hearing the solo that I heard on a record, it really bugged me because you loved every note of that solo on the record, and if the guitarist didn’t play it, you felt that he was copping out… like he couldn’t remember how to play the solo.”
As time passed at Rockfield, the foursome settled into what became a slightly less conventional routine, of working later and later in the day. “We were sleeping outdoors during the day, getting up about three in the afternoon, by five o’clock we were eating this humongous meal,” says Terry. “We’d start work about seven, and finish at around seven in the morning!”
Some equipment changes were inevitable. To give ‘Xanadu’ a fair chance live Alex had picked up a double necked guitar when passing through Nashville – of course this had nothing to do with the fact that Geddy (or indeed, Jimmy Page) already had one. Geddy’s latest acquisition was a set of Taurus bass pedals. “I wanted to play double- neck guitar, and I wanted to keep the bass going while I backed up Alex on rhythm guitar,” explained Geddy. As well as a Floyd Rose vibrato for his new Strat, Alex picked up a Roland Jazz Chorus amplifier, and his immediate reaction was, “Where has this sound been all my life?”
The new instruments fed the fires of experimentation: everything was good, nothing was left untried. Before long, Alex had picked up his own set of Taurus pedals, and to provide some extra feel, Geddy got hold of a Mini-Moog. “It was so refreshing to add a texture that we could drone behind our sound – we didn’t use it blatantly,” said Geddy. “That feeling and pulse in the background was really how it started. Then when we went to a very tight three-piece, it didn’t feel so dry and empty.” Little did anyone know at the time, exactly how much impact the synthesizer would have on Rush’s sound. Agrees Terry, “Certainly in the original stages it was just a colour, just sort of messing around with equipment to come up with the sci-fi aspect of the record.”
Inevitably, the arrangements for the album were more complex than their predecessor, but just as balanced. “All the songs were approached in much the same way,” says Terry. “We’d sit with a pen and paper and figure out how we were going to go about it. With something like ‘Xanadu’, when you’ve got large stretches of open air, and solos and all kinds of stuff going on, mapping that out and getting it together is more difficult, as opposed to a four-minute pop song.” Once everything was worked out, the recording came together smoothly, with resident engineer Pat Morin’s skills freeing up Terry to start taking more of a producing role than he had previously. “I was co-producing, they were involved in the production as well,” he explains. This was very much a two-way process. “We were fine tuning lyrics and melodies, what parts were played and where they were played.” The ‘Cygnus X-1’ spoken part was by Terry, whose position as the fourth member of the band was now confirmed.
How very idyllic it all was. ‘A Farewell To Kings’ was nominated as the title track, its opening bars played in the studio courtyard to make use of the gentle, natural reverb. ‘Xanadu’ was laid down in a single take, and birds could be heard singing in the background, as Neil’s percussive additions were also recorded outside. Overall, the album took three weeks to record. “It was an excellent experience, the tracks were going really well, and when we left Rockfield we had everything recorded,” says Terry. To mix and complete ‘A Farewell To Kings’, a fortnight had been booked at Advision Studios in London, an old haunt for Yes amongst other luminaries of the progressive scene. “It was right in the West End of London,” says Terry. “A lot of good records had gone through there, and they had an automated console, which was relatively new back then.” In all, the band had planned ample time, had had a good time, and were pleased with the results – an altogether more genteel way to make an album than the previous four.
Where ‘2112’ had still been an out-and-out rock album despite its grandeur, the new songs were altogether more refined. The band was, indeed, progressing but the output remained unmistakably that of a power trio. Good, old fashioned guitar sounds were still firmly in the mix – from the opening bars of the title track to the long solos of ‘Cinderella Man’, joyfully accompanied by bass and drums. All was well, a happy marriage of organic and electronic sounds. “‘Kings’ was a step in a different direction for us,” said Alex at the time. “We introduced other instruments. Although we weren’t very proficient at them, they did what they were supposed to do.”
By late June, Rush were back in Toronto to record their first ever video, a “live show” filmed at Seneca College. The video featured ‘Xanadu’, ‘Closer To The Heart’ and ‘A Farewell To Kings’, recorded while the songs were still fresh in the minds of the players. As the album was being mastered, there was time for the players to take a few weeks away from their instruments, before the big wheel started turning again. Geddy liked to keep one eye on the recording during the mastering process, and Neil spent some time with Hugh, who by now had become the band’s artist, to finalise the cover art. The role fell to Neil not only because he had more time to spare than the others. “Neil’s part as a drummer and lyricist allowed him time in the interim where there was a lot of knob twirling and decision making,” says Hugh. “It was not just the path of least resistance, he was truly interested in having the cover depict the contents which are notably the lyrics.”
The album cover featured a demolished warehouse from Buffalo, NY in front of a Toronto skyline, which happened to feature Howard Ungerleider’s condo- minium. “It was a total accident,” says Howard. “We didn’t realise until years later!” The “king” was Josh Anderson, who had been guitar player in the Ian Thomas band. “He really was a rake of a man, really, really thin and he was perfect for the part,” says Hugh. “He had a beautifully receding forehead already and all I had to do was go and retouch his mouth, shoulder and knee joints to appear mannequin-like.” It was time to take the show live, a process that had been started back at the management offices while the band were sniffing the Welsh breeze. On the ‘2112’ tour, SRO had been developing a crew of the highest order, and with a reputation as demanding as the band. This time, given the array of electronics that had somehow sprung up around the threesome, some additional help was called for. The band had met electronics whiz Tony Geranios through Blue Öyster Cult, whose star was now in the descendant, and he was invited to join the Rush crew as keyboard technician. Tony set to work interfacing the different pieces of equipment they required for their live show. This was pre- MIDI, but Tony’s brother George (also with Blue Öyster Cult) had already managed to connect an Oberheim to interface with a laser light show. “I wanted to develop a system where Geddy could play the bass pedals and trigger other synthesizers,” said Tony. He set to work, enabling the lower inputs of the Oberheim to be controlled by the bass pedals, and the other part with his keyboard. “You could have a horn sound on one module, a string sound on another, a wind sound on a third, and you could have different types of decay, all mixed into one total sound. It was a white elephant, but it worked, and it was very interesting.”
Following a few warm-up dates in August, the tour kicked off on 6 September 1977, in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Days later, the album was released simultaneously on two continents. ‘A Farewell To Kings’ achieved Top 40 status in both the US and Britain, peaking at 33 in the Billboard charts on 24 October. Despite the impending dawn of punk, it had not yet made much of an impact on the charts which were occupied by a wide variety of acts, from the Bee Gees, Elton John and Elvis (following his death), to The Eagles, Wings and Pink Floyd, and there was plenty of room for Rush’s far more publicly accessible sound. Indeed, this position was about as mainstream as a self-respecting rock band could get, at least a band that was yet to break through to stadium status.
The band even took the plunge and released a single – ‘Closer To The Heart’ hit a respectable Billboard #76 on 26 November. The boys needn’t have worried about the unspoken curse of “best newcomers” – at the end of the year, the band received a Juno gong for Best Group. Cliff Burnstein’s instincts were proved correct, as sales of the back catalogue grew nearly as fast as the new release. ‘Kings’ achieved Gold status in the US at almost the same time as ‘2112’ and ‘All The World’s A Stage’, and the band had accumulated six gold and three platinum discs in Canada. The tour was an altogether better produced affair, and the crew were more than showing they were up to the additional demands of the arena-sized venues. There was time for good-humoured fun – band and crew delighted in racing radio-controlled model cars during the dead time before soundchecks. While not pop stars, the band did have the occasional brush with ‘star struck’ fans, “… like the one with the kung fu grip in San Diego who stormed the stage and tried to tear out the lead singer’s throat,” wrote journalist Roy Macgregor, or, “… like the top-heavy girl in Atlanta who come up onto the stage to show the band her instruments.”
All the same, it was another 6-month date-stuffed epic and it took its toll – on 7 October, at Salt Lake City, a gig had to be cancelled as Geddy’s voice needed a rest. “Drive ‘Til You Die” was the tag line for the tour, altogether more satisfying than “Down The Tubes”, but no less stressful. The partying, therefore, was kept in moderation: now the boys had found a stable position, nobody wanted to blow it. “We’re not like a group of priests going on the road you know,” said Alex, a decade later. “But that’s never been what’s important to this band. A lot of times for a lot of groups it’s a lifestyle and it’s an ideal. It’s to go out, sex, drugs, rock-and-roll is the ultimate, have a good time for 5 years, then it’s over. But for us, we’ve always been musicians before being a particular rock band.” Alex was speaking from experience – they’d seen bands on the way up and on the way down, not least they were now being supported by previous headliners Blue Öyster Cult and UFO.
One support band was Max Webster, a band started by Kim Mitchell and Pye Dubois, the latter contributing lyrics and keeping out of the limelight. Max Webster were managed by Ray, and had just released their first album (produced by Terry Brown) on the label, Taurus Records, that SRO had started in 1975. The musicians became firm friends, not least Geddy and The Websters’ keyboard player, Terry Watkinson. Along the way, Geddy spent time learning synth techniques from Terry. “Terry used to sit down with me and explain the fundamentals. He used to draw little charts for me; he was like a tutor I had on the road.”
For some fans, Mr Watkinson would have a lot to answer for.
By late June, Rush were back in Toronto to record their first ever video, a “live show” filmed at Seneca College. The video featured ‘Xanadu’, ‘Closer to the Heart’ and ‘A Farewell to Kings’, recorded while the songs were still fresh in the minds of the players. As the album was being mastered, there was time for the players to take a few weeks away from their instruments, before the big wheel started turning again. Geddy liked to keep one eye on the recording during the mastering process, and Neil spent some time with Hugh, who by now had become the band’s artist, to finalise the cover art. The role fell to Neil not only because he had more time to spare than the others. “Neil’s part as a drummer and lyricist allowed him time in the interim where there was a lot of knob twirling and decision making,” says Hugh. ”It was not just the path of least resistance, he was truly interested in having the cover depict the contents which are notably the lyrics.”
The album cover featured a demolished warehouse from Buffalo, NY in front of a Toronto skyline, which happened to feature Howard Ungerleider’s condominium. “It was a total accident,” says Howard. “We didn’t realise until years later!” The “king” was Josh Anderson, who had been guitar player in the Ian Thomas band. “He really was a rake of a man, really, really thin and he was perfect for the part,” says Hugh. “He had a beautifully receding forehead already and all I had to do was go and retouch his mouth, shoulder and knee joints to appear mannequin-like.”
It was time to take the show live, a process that had been started back at the management offices while the band were sniffing the Welsh breeze. On the ‘2112’ tour, SRO had been developing a crew of the highest order, and with a reputation as demanding as the band. This time, given the array of electronics that had somehow sprung up around the threesome, some additional help was called for. The band had met electronics whiz Tony Geranios through Blue Öyster Cult, whose star was now in the descendant, and he was invited to join the Rush crew as keyboard technician. Tony set to work interfacing the different pieces of equipment they required for their live show. This was pre-MIDI, but Tony’s brother George (also with Blue Öyster Cult) had already managed to connect an Oberheim to interface with a laser light show. “I wanted to develop a system where Geddy could play the bass pedals and trigger other synthesizers,” said Tony. He set to work, enabling the lower inputs of the Oberheim to be controlled by the bass pedals, and the other part with his keyboard. “You could have a horn sound on one module, a string sound on another, a wind sound on a third, and you could have different types of decay , all mixed into one total sound. It was a white elephant, but it worked, and it was very interesting.“
Following a few warm-up dates in August, the tour kicked off on 6 September 1977, in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Days later, the album was released simultaneously on two continents. ‘A Farewell to Kings’ achieved Top 40 status in both the US and Britain, peaking at peaking at 33 in the Billboard charts on 24 October. Despite the impending dawn of punk, it had not yet reached the charts which were occupied by a wide variety of acts, from the Bee Gees, Elton John and Elvis (following his death), to The Eagles, Wings and Pink Floyd, and there was plenty of room for Rush’s far more publicly accessible sound. Indeed, this position was about as mainstream as a self-respecting rock band could get, at least a band that was yet to break through to stadium status.
The band even took the plunge and released a single – ‘Closer to the Heart’ hit a respectable Billboard #76 on 26 November. The boys needn’t have worried about the unspoken curse of “best newcomers” – at the end of the year, the band received a Juno gong for Best Group. Cliff Burnstein’s instincts were proved correct, as sales of the back catalogue grew nearly as fast as the new release. ‘Kings’ achieved Gold status in the US at almost the same time as ‘2112’ and ‘All The World’s A Stage’, and the band had accumulated six gold and three platinum discs in Canada.
The tour was an altogether better produced affair, and the crew were more than showing they were up to the additional demands of the arena-sized venues. There was time for good-humoured fun – band and crew delighted in racing radio controlled model cars during the dead time before sound checks. While not pop stars, the band did have the occasional brush with ‘star struck’ fans, “… like the one with the kung fu grip in San Diego who stormed the stage and tried to tear out the lead singer’s throat,” wrote journalist Roy Macgregor, or, “… like the top-heavy girl in Atlanta who come up onto the stage to show the band her instruments.”
All the same, it was another 6-month date-stuffed epic and it took its toll – on 7 October, at Salt Lake City, a gig had to be cancelled as Geddy’s voice needed a rest. “Drive ‘Til You Die” was the tag line for the tour, altogether more satisfying than “Down The Tubes”, but no less stressful. The partying, therefore, was kept in moderation: now the boys had found a stable position, nobody wanted to blow it. “We’re not like a group of priests going on the road you know,” said Alex, a decade later. “But that’s never been what’s important to this band. A lot of times for a lot of groups it’s a lifestyle and it’s an ideal. It’s to go out, sex, drugs, rock-and-roll is the ultimate, have a good time for 5 years, then it’s over. But for us, we’ve always been musicians before being a particular rock band.” Alex was speaking from experience – they’d seen bands on the way up and on the way down, not least they were now being supported by previous headliners Blue Öyster Cult and UFO.
One support band was Max Webster, a band started by Kim Mitchell and Pye Dubois, the latter contributing lyrics and keeping out of the limelight. Max Webster were managed by Ray, and had just released their first album (produced by Terry Brown) on the label, Taurus Records, that SRO had started in 1975. The musicians became firm friends, not least Geddy and The Websters’ keyboard player, Terry Watkinson. Along the way, Geddy spent time learning synth techniques from Terry. “Terry used to sit down with me and explain the fundamentals. He used to draw little charts for me; he was like a tutor I had on the road.”
For some fans, Mr Watkinson would have a lot to answer for.
Over the water, ‘Kings’ was selected by Mercury’s über-label, Phonogram as Rush’s launch album in Europe. Previous albums had been available on import, but not as standard sales. ‘Kings’ sold by the shedload, and when a 16-date tour of Britain was announced at the end of 1977, tickets sold out almost immediately. This time, and setting a precedent for the future, the band insisted on bringing its entire live show across the Atlantic. The February dates were a resounding success, one of which (at the Hammersmith Odeon in London) was recorded for radio. However, when the band listened back to the tapes, they didn’t like what they heard. “Geddy had problems with his voice that night, at least that’s the way we remembered it,” Alex said later. So the tapes were stuck in a cupboard back at SRO, and left to gather dust.
Success in Europe in general, and in the UK in particular, appeared to Rush like a bolt from the blue. The band were feeling buoyant, and indeed a little ebullient that they had managed to take the system on and win, and they were unfazed about telling people they were now reaping the hard-earned material rewards. At the same time however, the threesome were blithely unaware of the rapidly changing muso-political situation in late seventies Britain. The small-c conservative values of hard work and reaping what is sown being so gleefully described by the three Canadians, were an anathema to music publications such as NME and Melody Maker, who were more likely to side with the anti-establishment. Punk bands such as the Sex Pistols and the Clash might not have been dominating the charts, but their effect on the British musical consciousness, and by extension the pundits of the music scene, was enormous. Anarchy was in the UK, but nobody had told Rush that it was any big deal. Unfortunately for Geddy, Alex and Neil, it was a very big deal indeed. The muted charges of fascism finally came to a head in March 1978, when NME journalist Barry Miles interviewed the band, at the Marble Arch Holiday Inn, in London. Older, worldly wiser and certainly more socialist Miles was understandably shocked by what he saw as their pro-capitalist stance. “I was just reacting to massive political naïvety more than anything else,” says Miles. “They really did think that market forces would provide everything and I do remember that they had no idea about the conditions of the poor in Britain in Victorian times, or in Ireland in the 19th century when there was no state intervention – something they were advocating.”
The band were unrepentant in their capitalism. “For us, capitalism is a way of life, it’s an economic system built on those who can do, and succeed at it. For us it is a very material way of life. Your material things should give you pleasure.” Alex confirmed the sentiment, a little more directly – the band had worked their butts off for five years, and deserved some breaks. “It feels good,” he said. “It is our just reward for all the hard work.” Indeed, the band had all agreed years before that they would get fancy cars when they made it, and they agreed the moment was now. For Alex it was a Jaguar XJS, for Neil a Mercedes SL and, for Geddy, a Porsche Targa. Perhaps it was Barry Miles’ frustration at the naïvety of their attitudes that goaded him into writing what he did, but few would deny that his reference to the gates of Auschwitz was below the belt. Geddy’s parents had spent some of the war under the shadow of that very sign – and its slogan, “Arbeit Macht Frei” – and most of his family had been killed by the Nazis. The singer was understandably distraught, and his co-conspirators were bowled over. “They were calling us ‘junior fascists’ and ‘Hitler lovers’. It was a total shock to me,” said Neil. “I’m not a Fascist. I’m not some extremist,” he said. “Yes I’m a capitalist and I believe in self-reliance – but not without caring for other people.”
Of course, it was all Ayn Rand’s fault. Given her objectivist philosophies, it was not clear that Rand was a fascist herself, but she was certainly an anti-communist and these were the polarised seventies. Not that the band members would ever wholeheartedly embrace anyone’s philosophies: “I am no one’s disciple,” as Neil put it. Rush agreed with Ayn Rand’s ideals, “only as they pertained to the idea of artistic freedom,” said Geddy later. “I always thought those fascist remarks were way off the mark. I found Ayn Rand’s work at a certain time in my life to be a great liberator and a great relief because her artistic manifesto was so strong and inspiring. Her views on art and the sanctity of individuals were very inspiring to young musicians in a band, fighting for their own identity.” Confirmed Alex, “‘Anthem’ isn’t fascist, it’s about individuals making the best of their lives. I read the book, but it’s not like it was a uniform mind-set for the band. The NME got it wrong.”
Years later, other UK music rags would seek to distance themselves from the remarks, not least Geoff Barton’s Kerrang! which stated how the NME “foolishly labelled” the band. At the time however, the only way was forward and (according to the SRO schedules) there was no time to lose. The closing words labelling ‘Cygnus X- 1 Part 1’ were “To be continued”: it was time to return to Toronto and start developing and rehearsing material for a new album.
Back at SRO, Ray and Vic were keen to build on the success of ‘Kings’. In much the same way as ‘All The World’s A Stage’ after ‘2112’, they agreed with Cliff Burnstein at Mercury to re-release the first three Rush albums as a triple set. The hastily packaged “album” ‘Archives’ was released in May 1978, with an accompanying tour supported by Uriah Heep. Band and crew were quick to assure the same level of kindness that the Heepsters had shown to Rush on their first US tour, just four years previous.
The tour was really two sets of dates in March and May – April was kept clear for Neil and Jackie’s impending arrival. Daughter Selena was born 22 April 1978, a delight to the parents and a welcome respite to everyone else. Meanwhile, the studio time had already been booked, so it was time to tackle the second episode of the stories, rhythms and moods that inspired ‘A Farewell To Kings’. After only two weeks off at the end of the ‘Archives’ tour, the band returned with Terry Brown to Rockfield Studios in Wales, feeling on top of the world despite not really having developed much material. “We were all pretty much of the same mind – that we were going to do another ‘A Farewell To Kings’,” says Terry.
What could go wrong.