Rush!

I saw Rush play last night. I must write about it.

Months ago my friend Todd invited me to the concert. I don't go to many concerts. This was in Rogers Arena, home of Canucks hockey games, and I'd never been inside. Last night I was thinking of the last time I saw a band in an arena, and all I could think of was Pink Floyd at Randall Stadium in Madison in 1988.

But if you had a bucket list of Bands To See Before You Die, Rush would likely be in the top few. I'm challenged to think of another band that's played so well, so consistently, for so long (approaching 40 years?). Among rock musicians, each of the three are, well, master musicians, and to me, being able to play a note-on rendition of a piece you recorded decades ago, which was virtuosic at the time, is just incredible. And to see that they still play together - without apparent politics or bickering - and are still playing for the sheer love of it is really impressive. They have a maturity and technical precision that reminds me of jazz musicians, many who play well into their later years, as opposed to the short flames of most rock musician's careers.

So how was the show? Did it blow my mind? No. It was a great performance, but not surprising. It would have been more surprising if it were anything less than great. I suppose it's a weak analogy, but it's like getting a really nice bottle of champagne. You pay a lot, but you know just what you're getting. You've tasted it before, you know and appreciate the effort that went into making it, and you know you're going to enjoy it.

And we certainly got our money's worth. There were perhaps four albums' worth of songs, including the entirety of Moving Pictures as the second act. Songs from across their body of work were represented, from a few songs off their still-unfinished new album, all the way back to a unique rendition of Working Man, which began in a slower reggae style, then morphed into its album style, then was overdriven to an impressive finale.

Todd got us some great seats, in the front row directly facing the stage, though on the far end of the stadium (rows of seating were added in the arena floor in front of us). If we stood (and sometimes when we sat) we could see the players, but not so well as to follow their fingering, say. But for that, we'd watch the big screen behind them, which would sometimes show supporting visuals but mostly show close-ups of the players. The live editing and camerawork was impressive - like watching a concert video as it happens. As a budding guitarist, it was a treat to be able to see Alex's fingering during the most interesting parts.

The band's self-deprecating humour was also on display. The three acts of the performances were bookended by short videos where the band members play ridiculous characters in sketches - I was especially impressed by Alex's comic acting.

A few new things I learned while watching ...

• Geddy isn't the only keyboard player - Alex played one during Time Stand Still
• Neil likes to occasionally toss and catch his drum sticks while playing
• Neil cinches his trouser cuffs with bike clips
• I was chuffed to see Alex was favouring his Les Paul guitars (which mine remotely resembles), though several others appeared for about a song each

The sound was ... probably as good as can be expected inside an indoor stadium, which is to say, far worse than a smaller club, or a proper concert hall. Todd had suggested ear protection, which I hadn't considered, but I did pay $3.29 for a set of ear plugs on the way. After the first act I noticed my ears were ringing already, but I still didn't think to try the plugs until partway into the third act. It was nice, like letting my ears sit down. I'd take them out now and then for really interesting bits. After the concert I had no ringing at all. But still the reverberations were overwhelming. On pieces where the kick drum was more distinct, you would just hear it rolling for maybe a full second as it bounced around the stadium.

It was such a treat to see favourite solos and interludes played right in front of me. I've been a fan for decades, owning many of their albums since high school, and I wondered what my high school self would have made of it. I'd have probably been a lot more animated and impassioned. Instead, not one shout left my lungs, and I held no lighters aloft. I occasionally sat down. And wore earplugs.