Road To Redemption
Neil had already been actively pursuing lyrical concepts and themes for the album, using his tried and trusted technique of hunting though his stack of lyric notebooks. “You have to save up your little inspirations,” he had said, and one phrase in particular caught his eye. “Yes! Roll the bones, perfect!” Chance, and how it could work for good or ill, seemed a highly appropriate starting point. “The image of the wild card prompted all kinds of thoughts – that a lot of what happens to us is out of our control,” said Neil.
At the end of 1990, the three reunited at a nondescript recording studio in downtown Toronto to get some songs together. Neil turned up with his handful of lyrics, and Geddy and Alex were keen to build on the musical ideas of ‘Presto’. Once again, it was planned to move further away from the computer-generated writing approach of the period up to ‘Hold Your Fire’. “We used the keyboards and synthesizers as an orchestration device rather than as a writing tool,” explained Geddy.
The vocals continued in the same vein. “I remember the lower register voice stuff was working very well and as if to prove it, a lot of the songs already turned up absolutely in that mould,” says Rupert, who was welcomed back as producer. “His sense of groove is very important to us,” commented Geddy. “He’s helped us come up with looser and more exciting performances.”
After a while the band decamped to Chalet Studios to commence the writing proper. Alex was into lifting weights every morning, and Geddy was a morning person so he naturally led the arranging process. The computer technologies had moved forward, sort of: Geddy was running C-Lab Notator on an Atari, “a pain in the ass” compared to a Mac. “Our next writing session will be digital,” he added. Neil found that his own electronic exploits were coming to an end. “I had all kinds of plans for how I was going to update my set-up for new electronic use and all that, but I just didn’t need it: they weren’t those kind of songs,” he said. To force himself into new directions, Neil picked up a double pedal and dispensed with one of his bass drums. “I liked it a lot – the notes were cleaner and more even,” he said.
Studio slots had been booked at Le Studio in Morin Heights and McClear Place in Toronto, followed by Nomis in London for the mix. The band had learned not to get the producer in too early, to preserve the distinction between “band” and “objective ear”. Ten weeks after writing had initially started, the band reunited with Rupert and Stephen in early 1991, and the team – Geddy, Neil and Alex, Rupert and Stephen, and crew members JJ, Jack Secret and Larry, made their way to Morin Heights.
Given the time taken on the previous album, Rupert suggested only three months of studio time, and following a brief negotiation they settled on no more than five. Rupert’s desire to speed things up was not just to save time. “It’s quality, not speed or efficiency that makes a good album,” he explains. “Energy in the studio, high energy is one of the most creative mental conditions. One idea, when it goes well, leads very quickly to another. The creative juices get a real chance to flow and things get done just incredibly fast.” As he arrived, Rupert stressed what was important: capturing the vibe, and not losing it to musicality.
Stephen was quick to configure the drums ready for Neil to record his tracks, but then disaster struck. “We had a technical problem with the tape machine, which I think was a Mitsubishi 32-track digital,” says Stephen. Of course, Morin Heights was a long way from the nearest Mitsubishi 32-track dealer, and days were lost that should have been spent on the drums. This was extremely frustrating, particularly for Neil who was psyched up and ready to go. He vented his frustration on his kit, rehearsing his pieces way beyond the point of necessity. So much so that, by the time the tape machine had been fixed, he was beat perfect. “Neil put down the drum tracks in a day and half,” says Stephen. “It not only brought us back up to schedule, it actually put us way ahead of schedule.”
Despite this, Neil still allowed for spontaneity in his drumming. “I know that I have a tendency to be too organised, too architectural about my parts,” he said. “In spite of all the rehearsal I did before we recorded, I left areas that I refused to work out. Right down to the day that I recorded, I didn’t know what I was going to play in that particular part of the song, so that something special might happen.” The bass layer came together smoothly and calmly, and also came in ahead of schedule. “Suddenly we actually ended up with spare time,” says Stephen. There was time to mess around and try out new things, not least to play with a section of rap Neil had been working on. As he admitted, “It struck me that it must be a lot of fun to do that!” When Neil had presented the rap to the others, it was the source of some amusement; Rupert latched onto it immediately, and endeavoured to get it onto the record but Geddy had second thoughts. “Geddy felt very self-conscious about it,” says Paul. The team tried it in different voicings and suggested different actors: plans included using a newsreader, or even Robbie Robertson or John Cleese. “We didn’t want to tip the balance for it to become a novelty track,” says Rupert. “In the end, it actually seemed more fun to try it with Geddy.” So Geddy’s voice it was, pitched down using a voice processor.
For Alex, the extra time meant he could spend however long he needed on his guitar parts. Based on Geddy and Neil’s recorded inputs, Rupert had some rough mixes put together: he packed Alex off to his room with an eight-track Tascam portable recorder. “Alex was able to work unhurriedly in his own time, while the other two were getting down to doing the tracks,” says Stephen. The plan was for Alex to work out his solos in advance so there would be less picking apart (however well-meant), but things didn’t work out that way. Explains Rupert, “I just said, Alex, why would you be doing this again and be really contrived? You’ve just done this fresh and flamboyantly, in your own private place, and now we’re hearing it, and it’s fucking great. You know, it’s really brilliant,” and Neil would go, “What you mean, it’s a dodgy Tascam eight-track!” And I said, well, nobody is going to be going, I’m sure there’s a bit of tape hiss in there somewhere!” And so, certain of Alex’s solos were used directly on the album, straight from the Tascam. “Rupert and I had always the confidence that we can take any recording and somehow manage to get it back in its right place,” says Stephen. “Flying it in is what we used to call it.” One example was ‘Ghost of A Chance’, which came directly from the original demo. “I did it just to fill the space, but it had great spontaneity and emotion,” remarked Alex.
Another of Alex’s bedroom solos was to appear on the song ‘Bravado’. “I think it was a first take,” said Alex. “The solo has a particular character and personality that’s uncommon for me. If I’d erased that and gone with something else, then it would have been just another solo I put together in the studio, rather than something that happened at a special moment.” Rather than expressing concern, the other two were highly complimentary. “‘Bravado’ has one of my favourite solos Alex has ever played – that was a magic solo,” Neil would remark. He wasn’t the only person to excel on the song – concerning Neil’s own delivery, Geddy commented, “There’s an example of limb independence that rivals any drummer, anywhere. The fact that he nailed that in one take blows my mind.” Agrees Rupert, “I actually had to get out of the control room and walk into the studio, stand in front of him and watch to work out how on earth he was doing it.”
As the weeks passed, spring gave way to summer. Extra-curricular activities centred around volleyball, which became a regular fixture of the balmy, beery evenings. “Rupert and I had never ever played volleyball in our lives,” says Stephen, who gained “rookie of the year” status. Unfortunately, with the warmth, the water and the floodlights came the inevitable mosquitos. “It turned into this ferocious, competitive thing that happened, usually at midnight,” says Rupert. “We would finish the session, have a few beers and then put on long sleeved shirts, gloves, hats, sometimes scarves, long trousers tucked into your socks and smother ourselves with this mosquito repellent. We would go out and absolutely murder ourselves late at night.” Injuries were rife – fortunately Geddy damaged his hand just after the bass overdubs were finished. “We really used to dive and crash in,” says Stephen. “He really did hurt himself!”
The power trio focus meant that Geddy could concentrate more on his singing, even better more established in the lower register. “It seems to be where I feel we have the most musical range, is in that natural singing/talking range,” he said. “It’s an intentional thing and I think it’s helped the melodic character of the band tremendously, because it’s opened up just so much scope.” He was amply supported by Rupert. “Rupert is an accomplished vocalist and keyboard player and possesses a musical point of view that many producers cannot fathom,” said Neil. “In fact, he was particularly helpful with the arranging of vocal harmonies.” Indeed, Rupert even sang on some of the tracks, and played keyboards on a couple. What of the keyboards? “We added the keys at the end to embellish,” explained Geddy. “That was the only reason the keys were there – or maybe to help me express myself when I was painted into a musical corner.” All the same, this time Geddy had been very careful not to fill gaps unnecessarily. “I think that once you become reliant on a lot of other instruments, like keyboards and so forth, and you develop an ear for orchestration, then every time you hear a space, you want to fill it,” said Geddy. “It’s a style of recording and writing and arranging that can seem very enjoyable for a certain time period, but then it almost becomes a trap.” For once, however, he managed to resist the temptation.
In total, the time in Le Studio lasted eight weeks spread over three months – no mean feat. The recording process itself took no more than a fortnight, leaving time unused at the end of the booked period. “We actually shaved off a couple of months recording it,” said Alex, who recorded his guitars in eight days, rather than the four weeks they were used to. “It was a very positive writing session, and an optimistic recording session,” said Geddy, and this positivity manifested itself in the upbeat, even groovy nature of a number of the songs. Geddy explained some of the funkiness was due to his use of Wal bass guitars. “They have a kind of – it’s difficult to explain – fruity bottom,” he explained.
Once the music was mostly complete, it was off to McClear Place for vocal overdubs, and to finish the guitar before mixing took place at Nomis Studios. By the end of the production process Alex was feeling very firmly back in the centre of things, with the band feeling close, united and confident in the direction it was taking. “We got a really great groove going in terms of writing,” remarked Geddy. To Alex’s obvious delight as well, after its extended absence since ‘Moving Pictures’, the guitar was back where it was supposed to be. “There’s so much emotion in that instrument and you play off that, everybody plays off that, and it really has to be in that role,” he said. “We’ve even got a little blues,” he remarked about his favourite song from the album, ‘Ghost of A Chance’.
Room for progress remained: as the final mixes were played back before mastering, a couple of songs lacked the dynamism they’d had in the studio. “We felt, ‘you know, you know… we thought we had more here than we really have’,” said Geddy. “Maybe there’s an aspect of our sound that we’re not capturing the way we used to capture it.” While it was too late to do fix for that particular album, it was something to think about for the future.
With a cover incorporating a number of icons in the Dutch ‘Vanitas’ style, ‘Roll The Bones’ was released on 3 September 1991, seventeen years after Geddy, Alex and John had released Rush’s first album. The band’s fourteenth studio album was to prove extremely successful – it went straight into the charts at Billboard Number 3. The band’s own favourite, ‘Dreamline’ was released as a single, followed by the rather unusual choice of the instrumental, ‘Where’s My Thing’. “I was really proud of our record company,” said Neil. “It was just a very creative thing for a record company to do.” The instrumental single was nominated for a Grammy, and the album was awarded Juno awards for Best Hard Rock Album and Best Cover. Not bad at all for a few weeks work, up in the mountains near Montréal.
Back in Europe of course, the success of the album was tempered by the fact that the band were in decline: the band had matched a dubious amount of marketing from either Mercury or Atlantic’s European operations, with a lack of will to tour the countries concerned. This time however, Rush did decide to cross the pond, much to the consternation of the band’s UK representatives, East West Productions. Said Geddy, “When we came across to the UK for the ‘Bones’ tour we contacted them to get some information, and they didn’t even know that we were on their books!”
Still, nothing could dampen the band’s reinvigorated spirits. According to journalist Jane Scott, “The trio was so eager to tour it gave up its holidays for bookings.” Howard Ungerleider wasn’t available as he was working with Metallica and Queensrÿche at the time, so Shawn Richardson was brought in as tour manager. As usual, Geddy got heavily involved with animator Norm Stangl and his team to put together the multimedia aspects of the live show. “I’m pretty proud of the kinds of animation we’ve put together over the last few years,” said Geddy. “We’ve used some very talented artists in town here and I think we’ve achieved some really unique pieces of work.” The bunnies were used again in the live performance, but this time one of the rabbits shot the other, with the “bullet” traversing the video screen. “People were really upset with us,” confessed Geddy, uncontritely.
As the tour commenced in Hamilton, Ontario, the band felt at a musical peak. “On this tour, we’ve reached a level of consistency that we never have before,” said Neil, who based his opinions on the tapes recorded from the mixing desks. “In previous years, it would be a cringing thing of hearing the flaws and wanting to correct them and feeling down about how far from perfect it was. This tour, it is more of a pleasure. I hear little corrections I want to make from the drumming point of view, but at the same time I hear how well the band is playing on a night-to-night basis and that becomes its own gratification, too.” A lot of fun was had, not least through Alex’s growing reputation for his interlude of spontaneous, verbal gobbledegook, while the other members of the band looked on, following as best they could and smiling all the while. All was well.
When Primus joined the tour at the start of 1992, they injected a healthy dose of musicality of their own. Neil would quite often warm up with Herb Alexander, Primus’ drummer, and before long the ensuing jamming session became a regular part of the schedule. “Members of their band and our band would drift in and join us in making some impromptu music,” said Neil. “For the most part people would be using instruments that they don’t normally play. Someone would pick up an accordion, and someone else would pick up a flute – that was primo!” On some occasions, instruments were replaced by other items – a bicycle frame, some garbage cans… not least when the band reached Berlin. “We set up in this little shed and both bands were just jamming on ‘found percussion’ and a few other instruments, flutes and clarinets picked up from pawn shops,” said Neil. “It was a great escape from the day, and a good musical exploration.” Confirmed Alex, “We had so much fun just trying to make music that it planted a seed.”
Not everything was quite so funny – in Sacramento for example, Geddy was hit in the face with a shoe thrown from the crowd, which then triggered a sample on his synth. All the same, in the main the band remained appreciative of their fans. “We’ve been fortunate to be able to do what we want to do,” said Alex. “And for having an audience that allowed us that freedom by buying our records.”
The tour came to a close, once again, in the last days of June, and Neil proposed a dance party to finish things off. “I helped organise it,” says Andrew MacNaughtan. “He’s no great dancer but he loves to dance!” As the rejuvenated trio danced their way into their now-standard summer recess, more than ever they knew what they had to do next. After many years in what, in hindsight, they saw as a musical wilderness, the band knew that it could be itself again.
Of course, Rush didn’t have a sense of humour, not to outsiders, anyway. “I don’t know how we got this image,” said Geddy, “Maybe we wore too many robes in the 70s.” Finally somebody recognised the goofiness that was intrinsic to the trio – no less than the Harvard Lampoon which inducted them in May 1993. “They’re very literate – one of the few bands that actually puts some humour into its lyrics and tries to make jokes once in a while,” said Steve Lookner, a selection board member. “When there’s a band that tries to be funny in an industry which doesn’t have a lot of humour in it, we respect that.”
Respect – all Geddy, Alex and Neil ever really wanted from their audiences, who’d followed them through thick and thin. Arguably the band had now gone through its thinnest patch, despite achieving a great deal of critical acclaim for its endeavours the trio had never been entirely comfortable with the eighties. Now however, musical trends were heading back towards a heartland of guitar, bass and drums, and the band was responding in kind. This time the influences were coming from a southerly direction. “The shift of more interesting hard rock was coming from America, bands like Soundgarden, even the Chilli Peppers, to a certain degree,” said Geddy.
From a drumming perspective, Neil could only agree. “In the 80s, just from a drumming point of view, it was getting kind of worrisome, because everything you heard on the radio was programmed drums,” he said. “And then suddenly in the 90s all these bands were coming out. Matt Cameron from Soundgarden was suddenly here, and Dave Krusen from Pearl Jam, and this band Live from the States, a drummer called Chad Gracy, again playing great drums.”
Not only this, but the new kids were citing Rush as one of their major influences. “All the cynical critics have been forced to accept us because a lot of the musicians in the alternative bands grew up listening to us,” said Neil. “That was such an affirmation. Just such a spark of ‘Yay, we’re not alone’ and there’s no generational or age factor there now because we’re both bands, making records and doing tours in all of these cases, so there isn’t really a divide. We’ve been doing it longer, yes, but we do have the same values.”
Indeed, and then some – watching the younger bands was a much needed affirmation of exactly those values. “We started thinking about what we were all about, what was the core of the band, how much we enjoyed the three of us, just being a three-piece together,” said Alex. “Geddy and I facing Neil and playing, that’s what we got off on when we were a lot younger.” Now they were able to do it again, and it felt good.