Caress of Steel
Dedicated to the memory of Mr. Rod Serling.
Released Mercury/Polygram, September 1975.
- Bastille Day (4:37)
- I Think I’m Going Bald (3:37)
- Lakeside Park (4:08)
- The Necromancer (12:30)
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- I. Into Darkness (4:12)
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- II. Under The Shadow (4:25)
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- III. Return of The Prince (3:52)
- The Fountain of Lamneth (19:59)
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- I. In The Valley (4:18)
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- II. Didacts and Narpets (1:00)
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- III. No One At The Bridge (4:19)
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- IV. Panacea (3:14)
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- V. Bacchus Plateau (3:13)
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- VI. The Fountain (3:49)
Geddy Lee - Bass/Acoustic Guitar/Vocals. Alex Lifeson - Acoustic & Electric Guitars. Neil Peart - Drums/Percussion.
Produced by Rush and Terry Brown.
There are some truly good songs on the much-misunderstood ‘Caress of Steel’, for Rush the difficult third album that followed their second debut, seen by many as the step too far that nearly broke the band. It is an album of two sides, the first reserved for shorter songs, starting straightforwardly enough with the romp of an opener, ‘Bastille Day’. Equally non-contentious is the autobiographical ‘Lakeside Park’, the lyrics penned by Neil in memory of the sandy beaches and working the stalls at his local stamping ground Port Dalhousie, the music reflective of the balmy evenings and rippling waters.
Even ‘I Think I’m Going Bald’, an ode to Alex’s fears of hair loss which was loosely based on the Kiss song ‘Going Blind’, could not really be seen as a step too far. It was not a bad piece of whimsy but neither was it one of the band’s best. Alex wasn’t the only one with hair concerns, remembers Donna Halper.
“Sometimes Geddy would worry so much that his hair would fall out in clumps!” The lyrics were a mirror on the feelings of the time: “Seems like only yesterday, we would sit and talk of dreams all night - dreams of youth, and simple truths.” Indeed, and now it was time to get serious.
The earnestness of the band’s intentions are loudly – always loudly – and clearly articulated in ‘The Necromancer’, an altogether darker, more complex affair. Broadly derived once again from Moorcock- esque fantasy, the song follows the fortunes of “three travellers, men of Willowdale” as they venture into lands unknown. With Willowdale being a Toronto suburb, the travellers are none other than our three musical heroes, the lands unknown reflective of a voyage still to be charted.
‘The Necromancer’ was a mere prelude to the second side of the album, the multilayered piece ‘The Fountain of Lamneth’. Both gentle and powerful, simple and poetic, the whole side is so clearly a labour of love for the three musicians, delicately nurtured and directed by the band’s production maestro and mentor, Terry Brown. ‘In The Valley’ is followed by ‘Didacts and Narpets’, the title a reference to didactic teachers and parents (‘Narpets’ was an anagram) the lyrics a summary of their oppressive nagging. The cry for help of ‘No-one at The Bridge’ is met by the delicate salve of ‘Panacea’, the welcome relief expressed on drawing another goblet on ‘Bacchus Plateau’. The grand finale is signified by arrival at ‘The Fountain’ itself, the success of discovery tempered by the exhaustion of the feat. “I’m forever at the start,” writes Neil, as not for the last time, the trials overcome in the tale draw parallels with the real experiences of the Willowdale three.
The band may find ‘Caress of Steel’ in general, and ‘The Fountain of Lamneth’ in particular, an experience they do not wish to revisit. The shame is that the album offers plenty to be proud of; the unexpected reward is that its poor reception catalysed even better things to come. Above all it signalled the end of an era of post-juvenile experiment, and the dawn of a band in full command of its own destiny.