Pitchforks: 4.5/5
Band: Rush
Album: Clockwork Angels
Released: June 12, 2012
In 2007 when Rush released its 19th album, “Snakes and Arrows,” I was astonished at how heavy the lyrics and instrumental tones were. The album established a very different atmosphere than most of the Canadian trio’s catalogue. With depressing songs rivaling their 1984 release, “Grace Under Pressure,” I was a bit put off by some of the album and the band’s new direction.
Although Rush’s 20th studio release, “Clockwork Angels,” ambitiously continues to expand the band’s new darkening musical attitude, it serves as a fantastically sophisticated concept album, and reaches emotions vastly untouched in “Snakes and Arrows” by strongly beckoning back to the group’s root philosophical message of developing individuality and understanding in a world demanding universal conformity. It took me a little while to appreciate its drastic distinction from Rush’s classics, but once I did it’s easy to recognize the album is what Rush fans have been yearning for.
“Clockwork Angels” is arguably Rush’s most complicated release. It strays intensely from the band’s distinct ambience; most of the songs clock in at under six minutes, and instead of stellar multi-minute instrumental solos, rich layers of bass, guitar, drums and piano amalgamate with strongly emphasized lyrics to create a very emotionally charged and heavy tone.
The trio’s interplay is marvelous, and offers some of Rush’s best instrumental and vocal harmony. Only the group’s 1978 release, “Hemispheres,” rivals the thematic instrumental and lyrical complexities.
One of Rush’s most astounding qualities is after 44 years they never sit back and take it easy on creating music, and it definitely shows in “Clockwork Angels.”
The album, produced by the band, Nick Raskulinecz and engineer Richard Chycki, demonstrates how guitarist Alex Lifeson; bassist, pianist and vocalist Geddy Lee; and drummer and lyricist Neil Peart have mastery over their craft.
The band aims higher with their ambition in this album than I’ve heard since 1991’s “Roll the Bones,” and they succeed with magnificent synchronicity of fluid instrumentals by switching between different musical tones while feeding off one another, along with lyrical appeal. Each song keeps getting better with every listen.
To me, “Clockwork Angels” is largely a thematic critique of a possible future; a world set within their notorious 1976 album, 2112, where traditionalism has left an unnamed anarchist yearning to grasp onto his humanity as he travels around a crumbling world that forces homogenization and destructive development. But as with every Rush album, the lyrics and meanings are largely up for interpretation.
The album’s opening song, Caravan, discusses how the protagonist “can’t stop thinking big, in a world where I feel so small,” in his journey along “a road lit only by fire / going where I want / instead of where I should.”
The song BU2B talks about how the traveler was “brought up to believe the universe has a plan / we are only human / it’s not ours to understand.” He is taught that “until our final breath / the pain and joy that we receive / must be what we deserve.”
In Clockwork Angels the journeyman learns “lean not upon your own understanding / ignorance is well and truly blessed / trust in perfect love and perfect planning / everything will turn out for the best.” He is informed that clockwork angels “promise every treasure, to the foolish and the wise / goddesses of mystery, spirits in disguise / every pleasure, we bow and close our eyes / clockwork angels, promise every prize.”
The Anarchist is one of my favorite tracks; the message conveyed and many different melodies are awesome. The song seemingly skips forward in the wanderer’s life to a point where he is questioning whether he will ever find someone who shares his ideas. “I lack their smiles and their diamonds; I lack their happiness and love / I envy them for all those things, I never got my fair share of.” Throughout the song he realizes, “what I know, I've never shown; what I feel, I've always known / I plan my vengeance on my own — and I was always alone.”
Carnies illuminates the explorer’s yearning for refuge from a culture promoting homogenization as he “prayed just to get away / to carry me anywhere / sometimes the angels punish us / by answering our prayers.”
In Halo Effect, the closet song Rush will likely ever get to playing pop, the anarchist discovers the feeling of love, and the pain of losing it. He questions, “what did I see? / fool that I was / a goddess, with wings on her heels / all my illusions / projected on her / the ideal, that I wanted to see.”
Seven Cities of Gold places the traveler into a world of possibility. He begins to understand the power of individuality, and how in a conformed society “a man can lose his past, in a country like this / wandering aimless / parched and nameless.”
The Wreckers is one of the album’s best tracks in terms of group interplay. The journeyman questions the validity of society’s claims, and realizes his dissent is making himself a target. “All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary / of a miracle too good to be true / all I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary / everything in life you thought you knew.”
Rush plucks emotional heartstrings in Headlong Flight as Peart’s lyrics draw on the death of his wife and daughter. Through Geddy Lee’s passionate voice the anarchist understands despite hardships life presents, and how pleasant the past might seem, he only has the present moment. “The days were dark / and the nights were bright / hey man, I would never trade tomorrow for today.”
BU2B2 is the shortest Rush song I can recall, at 1 minute 28 seconds, but it packs a wallop of meaning. The protagonist finally accepts that although misfortunes arise, life goes on, so he better make the best of it and enjoy what time he last left. “Life goes from bad to worse / I still choose to live / find a measure of love and laughter / and another measure to give.”
In Wish Them Well the traveler submits that some people refuse to change, and will forever hold fast to bigoted ideologies that cause pain and destruction. When this happens, all that he can do is wish them the best of luck and let go. “The ones who've done you wrong / the ones who pretended to be so strong / the grudges you've held for so long / it's not worth singing that same sad song.”
Finishing off the adventure is The Garden, my favorite song on the album. It’s a soft-paced synthesized piano ballad with some of Lee’s best singing, and Lifeson playing catchy chords until an epic solo while Peart masterfully induces emotional twangs with each strike. The song discusses the impact the wanderer’s life has, and the answer he’s been searching for his entire life. “The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect / so hard to earn, so easily burned / in the fullness of time / a garden to nurture and protect.”
Just as “Clockwork Angels’” protagonist “can’t stop thinking big,” neither can Rush. The band’s new direction took a little while to grow on me, but this excellent work leaves me eager to discover where they head next.
Reach the reporter at tdmcknig@asu.edu
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