I’m here in the Jade Suite of Vancouver’s Pan Pacific Hotel, where Rush’s Geddy Lee has been conducting interviews to promote the 2020 40th Anniversary Edition of Permanent Waves. Geddy’s looking quite relaxed in his 2112-era white kimono, an Alexandrite pendant of the Egyptian God Ra around his neck. He’s sipping a cup of Da Hong Pao tea, attention riveted on some fishing show on what looks to be 900-inch television, and the first words he utters are, “Professional fishing. Who knew that was even a thing?” He pauses for a spoonful of Beluga caviar, then adds, “Fellow in the funny cap just pulled in a muskellunge. I’m no expert, but it looks to be a 59-pounder.” This is as good a place as any to begin the interview.
Do you fish?
Gave it a try once. Caught a walleye, and the damn thing attacked me. I meant to release him, but he had no intention of returning the favor.
You sound nothing like you do on stage. I might as well be talking to Barry White. How do you sing the way you do?
It’s quite simple, really. We toured with this gargantuan roadie whose only job it was to kick me in the balls before I went on stage.
Didn’t it hurt?
You can’t imagine. It was all I can do not to play the show doubled over in pain. I basically owe the man my career. But I had to let him go when he started nutting me as I was coming off stage as well. Overjealous, he was,
1980’s Permanent Waves marked a great departure from its predecessors. The songs are shorter, for instance.
They are, and I can tell you why. Someone handed me a copy of Never Mind the Bollocks, and I knew immediately this was the direction we needed to take.
So Permanent Waves was your punk rock statement.
Sure. We wanted the songs to be quick punches to the throat of uptight society. We originally intended to call the album Anarchy in the Great White North.
Do you advocate anarchy?
Oh heavens no. I don’t want a pack of purple-haired punks with rings through their noses knocking over my trash cans. And god forbid they should break into my mansion and steal my priceless collection of vintage hockey pucks. Besides, we Canadians don’t much go in for that sort of thing. We’re far too polite.
But the end result was shorter songs.
Precisely. We cut down on the sci-fi stuff as well. I’d had it with song titles with words like Cygnus in them. I looked up Cygnus in the dictionary once and it isn’t even a real word. And don’t even get me started on “A Lerxst in Wonderland.” What the fuck’s a lerxst? I once asked Neil–he wrote the lyrics–to define lerxst, and do you know what he did?
What did he do?
He slapped me about the head and shoulders with his toque shouting, ‘A lerxst is a lerxst is a lerxst, you long-haired twat!’ The man was a stone psycho. But back to the shorter songs. What we were really looking for were hit singles. Songs you could play on the radio.
The title’s rather cryptic. Was it your way of saying, New Wave’s a passing fad, but our music will be around forever?
I’ve never thought about it in that way. But it’s true isn’t it? People will still be playing Permanent Waves 100,000 years from now. I doubt the same can be said about Kajagoogoo.
I’ll be honest. I’ve never really cared much for your music. I find the songs needlessly complex, and expressly designed to show off what excellent musicians you are.
I’ve read your reviews. And allow me state for the record you don’t know shit about music. You’re just some little no-nothing prick who has the shameless audacity to mock that which he’s too ignorant to understand. Why, I ought to skewer you with a fireplace poker!
I do wish you’d put that down. Somebody could get hurt.
Sorry. Not very polite of me. You know, I killed a man with this thing once. Lost my temper. Too bad for him.
Look, one of the reasons I’m here is to apologize. I’ve been saying mean things about Rush for years, but I was wrong. Permanent Waves is a tremendous record. I’ve been playing the hell out of it lately.
You’re not fucking with me, are you?
You’re waving the fireplace poker around again.
Old habit. Why the change of heart?
A couple of weeks ago I heard “The Spirit of Radio” on my car radio and got so excited I hit an old woman. It was like that walker grew wings. But it’s a great song. I love the way you sing “Off on your way, hit the open road.” I may have hit a tottering geriatric instead of the open road, but the concept’s the same.
What do you think of “Freewill?”
It’s the best song of 1980 and the finest musical precis of the philosophy of Ayn Rand this side of “Trees.” I love the part where you sing “There are those who think that life/ Has nothing left to chance/ A host of holy horrors/ To direct our aimless dance.”
That’s Neil the libertarian for you. A staunch opponent of determinism. His philosophy of life goes something like, “Get off your ass you lazy prick, because society owes you nothing. And should I see you in the gutter don’t expect me to give you so much as a nickel, because you’re a pathetic loser.”
Quite the humanist, our Neil.
Heart of gold. What do you think of “Jacob’s Ladder?”
It’s stately in a good way. Like a grand precession of the ptarmigan, or whatever those birds you have up here are called, on their way across an iceberg.
“Entre Nous?”
Your synthesizer work, my God. You put Styx in their place, that’s for sure.
Ah, the synthesizer. A lot of our fans, and I’m referring to the undereducated hoi-polloi we pretended to relate to in our “Working Man” period, hated the synthesizer. Me, I saw it as a new color we could add to our musical palette. Like mauve perhaps. Or periwinkle. Let’s say periwinkle.
Let’s move on to “Different Strings.”
Bet the lyrics crack you up, don’t they?
I’m not much on dragons and giant killers and stuff like that.
Just as I thought. Stunted sense of imagination. I say snow and you think shovel. I say child and you think beastly little thing I’m going to have to buy Christmas gifts for.
On the 9-minute with three parts “Natural Science” you seem to fall back into old ways.
I’ll tell you what happened on that one. We went into the studio intending to record a 4- minute song about hockey We walked out with a 59-minute epic without a single reference to Bobby Orr. Anyway, we took the thing to our label exec and he pulled out a gun and shot Alex Lifeson in the foot. Just like that. Then he had us thrown out of his office. And by tossed I mean literally. From the second floor window.
That’s a horrible story.
That was just his way of saying cut 50 minutes or die. Hey, what did you think of “By-Tor and the Snow Dog?”
By-Tor and the what now?
It’s one of the anniversary edition’s 12 bonus tracks. You didn’t listen to the bonus tracks, did you?
Of course I listened to them. What kind of music critic would I be if I didn’t–”
You’re lying!
You’re waving the fireplace poker again.
Sorry. Did I tell you I stabbed a man to death with this thing?
You did.
Music critic. Much like yourself. Had a hell of a time disposing of the body.
I’ve already apologized. And my apology is sincere. A lot of my readers will think I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not. Rush is a great band. I’m sorry I never got a chance to see you guys live.
I appreciate that, I really do, but I have more interviews to do. Before you go, can I offer you a souvenir kimono?
Excuse me?
A souvenir kimono. There are some who say the kimono isn’t a manly garment, but the kimono is manly indeed. And comfortable. A man can breathe in a kimono. Here, have a kimono.
I don’t know…
It’s the kimono or the fireplace poker, take your pick.
I’ll take the kimono. And thanks for frightening the hell out of me.
It was my pleasure.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
