Spin article bashes Rush fans at the RRHOF ceremony

[laughedatbytime]

http://www.spin.com/articles/rock-roll-hall-fame-induction-ceremony-rush-public-enemy-oprah-heart?utm_source=spintwitter&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=spintwitter

 

Hell hath no fury like a Rush fan scorned. For over a decade, the cult of the Toronto prog-rock power trio has been waiting for their idols to earn ingress into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They have watched everyone from Alice Cooper to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Donovan to Genesis, be feted by the industry cabal comprising the institution's voting panel. Last night at the Nokia Theater in Los Angeles was their time, they had earned this and they had the Rush baseball jerseys to prove it.

 

There's no such thing as a casual Rush fan (just read this list). It's like a bizarre bespectacled triangulation of the Grateful Dead, Star Trek, and Hawkwind. Nerds who worship power. They transformed what was nominally a celebration to honor Quincy Jones, Heart, blues guitarist Albert King, producer Lou Adler, Public Enemy, Randy Newman, Donna Summer and yes, Rush, into a holy grail deleted scene from I Love You, Man.

 

The ceremony included speeches and performances from Oprah Winfrey, John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Usher, Harry Belafonte, Tom Petty, Gary Clark Jr., Booker T. & The MGs, Spike Lee, Dave Grohl, and Jennifer Hudson. Jack Nicholson and Russell "Rush" Simmons whooped in the audience. A surprise encore featured half the above names, plus Tom Morello and DMC, performing a cover of "Crossroads." But for 92 percent of the room only three men were fit to wield the Rush moniker: drummer Neil Peart, bassist Geddy Lee, and Alex Lifeson, the lead guitarist who no one ever really talks about.

 

Fans were boozy and bathed in fluorescent light, air-slapping the bass, and impatiently waiting for their heroes to earn long-awaited canonization. Rhinestone Rush shirts and Rush uniforms were ubiquitous. Merch lines were almost as long as the band's guitar solos. Bald ginger-bearded men breezed past in "Got Geddy" tees. A feeling of comeuppance was in the air. And when the group's chosen inductor, Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, ruminated on the question of when exactly "Rush became cool," two bros in front of me ripped off their T-shirts, hugged, and high-fived.

 

While the Canucks monopolized the mood inside Nokia, the most memorable moments from the 28th annual ceremony arrived via artists who didn't write concept albums about a world ruled by the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx. The ceremony airs on HBO on Saturday, May 18, hopefully pared down from the four-and-a-half hour live version. In the interim, here's a breakdown of what went down on the night that Rush finally joined the ranks of John Mellencamp and the Dave Clark Five.

 

Inductee: Randy Newman

 

Presenter: Don Henley

 

Henley quoted the maxim from the late Buddy Rich: "there's two types of music, good and bad, and Randy Newman's been making extraordinary music for decades."

 

He continued: "Randy Newman has written songs about the hypocritical and the honorable parts of our culture with biting humor but empathy for the human condition...He's American to the core, depicting this country in all its shame and glory … even though the general public knows him best as the guy who wrote the song about short people."

 

Acceptance Speech: The ever-mordant Newman took the stage and declared, "I was so moved by [Henley's speech] that I didn't know what was happening." Then he tongue-in-cheek described Henley as a "great writer and artist who has had some success with the band he was in."

 

Newman reminisced on being a child on the studio lot and watching his uncles conduct the 20th Century Fox orchestra: "All I wanted was to grow up and be respected by musicians…It means a great deal to me to have the respect of those people and this night means a lot to me."

 

Then Newman quipped, "I hope that the fact that I rushed my performance of ["I Love LA"] doesn't mean that I get kicked out of the hall on my first night." He briefly choked up and smirked, 'it's hard for me to express a genuine emotion, as you can tell by my writing."

 

Random Fact Discovered: Newman grew up in L.A., but spent the first ten summers of his life in New Orleans.

 

Performance: No longer resembling the Peter Sellers and Harold Ramis hybrid of his youth, the grey-haired Newman kick-started the night with a rollicking performance of "I Love L.A.," backed by a whirring montage of the Hollywood sign, five singers, a horn section, and a guitar trio of Tom Petty, Jackson Browne and John Fogerty. The latter goes for a guitar solo that seems wholly designed to wow Rush fans. It works. He follows it up with "I Think It's Going to Rain Today" and "I Am Dead (But I Don't Know It)." Henley delivers backing vocals on the latter. Jack Nicholson is seen in the crowd flashing a gleeful joker smile several times during the performance.

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 5. Even Rush fans have to respect Randy Newman, if nothing else for dedicating an anthem to short people.

 

Inductee: Lou Adler

 

Presenters: Cheech & Chong

 

The comedy pair, whose albums were produced by Adler, reminisced about the first time they entered the producer's office on the A&M lot. Chong fake-snorts the lines that he remembers being on his desk. Chong calls mega-producer Adler "special…because he's one of the first black guys to ever be inducted into the Rock Hall of Fame." (Adler is not black.)

 

Cheech claims Adler is a "stealth producer. You don't know what he's done until you see the royalty check."

 

Acceptance Speech: Wearing the garish suits, bright-white glasses, and beard that have become his trademark, Adler tells the story of his life from growing up in Boyle Heights to producing for Sam Cooke, Jan and Dean, Carol King's Tapestry. He describes the early days when he and Herb Alpert went door to door around L.A., knocking on every independent record company in town.

 

"I love producing because it's about that feeling you get when you know something is going to be a hit, before anyone else hears it or gets the numbers."

 

He describes his first meeting with the Mamas and the Papas: "Barry McGuire asked if he could bring some friends to audition for me. This was way before MTV, so I would close my eyes and picture the artist's auditioning on the radio. Cass had a voice as big as she was…and she was big…John Phillips was one of the most innovative vocal arrangers of the last 50 years…They were coming off 80 psychedelic trips and looked like it."

 

He also remembers recording Tapestry with King: "I remember vividly that day that [King] and I were going over her new songs and she turns to me and says 'how about this one' and then she plays 'you've got a friend.'"

 

Random Facts Discovered: His first office was a telephone booth at Will Rodgers State Beach, chosen because Jan and Dean liked to play volleyball there.

 

Performance: Carole King performs an impassioned rendition of "You've Got a Friend" at a large black Steinway, before a video montage of Adler in increasingly ridiculous suits and hats.

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 6. Rush fans do not really f**k with Carole King, but they have innate sympathies for anything made during the Me Decade.

 

Inductee: Quincy Jones

 

Presenter: Oprah Winfrey

 

Leave it to super-producer Quincy Jones to trot out the biggest presenter imaginable. Oprah Winfrey honors the man who discovered her by declaring, "I'm rarely at a loss for words but when it comes to trying to find the words about Quincy Jones, I'm at a loss for words."

 

She re-tells the story of being a local Chicago anchorwoman on AM Chicago randomly picked by Jones to star in The Color Purple.

 

According to Winfrey: "The safest place in the world is Q's heart…he is a living legend who defies and defines the word…he is the most generous soul on earth, not only does he have an eye for talent, but he knows how to nurture it." She also declares that she wants to be like Quincy Jones when she grows up.

 

Acceptance Speech: Jones delivers the longest speech night, an occasionally rambling 30-minute monologue that touches on everything from the day he first decided to learn the piano to asking Michael Jackson if he could "have a crack at" producing what would become Off the Wall.

 

Jones' speech is the Yoda moment of the night; he is slightly doddering and at times mumbly, but he is clearly the elder Jedi in a room full of people who have seen the Star Wars trilogy more than a few times.

 

Jones dispenses the best advice he ever heard, given to him by the late saxophonist Ben Webster: "In every country that you go to, listen to all the music that real people listen to, the food they eat, and learn 30 or 40 words in their language."

 

Despite being 80 years old, he is the only inductee to use the phrases, "triple OG" and "pimp slap." He urges against the categorization of music, declares that Miles Davis and Charlie Parker were the Mozart and Beethoven of the 20th Century, and says that "jazz is the root of all popular music…we cannot let it die."

 

Performance: Usher kicks an impressive imitation of Michael Jackson's "Rock With You," complete with moonwalks, red bow tie, black leather suit, hip thrust and effortless glides across the stage. Somewhere Ne-Yo is seething.

 

Random Facts Discovered: Jones discovered he wanted to be a musician at 11 when he broke into a nearby armory looking to steal food and army supplies. "I saw a piano in the dark in one of the rooms and I almost closed the door, but something said to me, 'get in that room, your future is there.' I went into that room and I touched the piano and the voice said, 'that's what you're going to do for the rest of your life.' I knew if I hadn't gone back in that room, I'd be dead or in jail today."

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 5. Even Rush fans have to give it up for Quincy Jones.

 

Inductee: Public Enemy

 

Presenters: Spike Lee and Harry Belafonte

 

Wearing his Mookie outfit, Spike Lee recounts the tale of how Public Enemy brought him "Fight the Power" and how the song made Do the Right Thing into "the film that it is." According to Lee, it was Public Enemy's second attempt at a theme song, after he initially told Chuck D that the first one wouldn't cut it.

 

Belafonte praises Public Enemy as "radical revolutionaries who came to change absolutely everything about the urban musical force called rap." He says they are the latest in a long line that stretches back to Paul Robeson."

 

Acceptance Speech: Flavor Flav delivers an off-course and extemporaneous 20-minute speech while giggling like a lunatic. He thanks Chuck for writing the records and calls him "the motor of the group." He cites the group's ability to get the state of Arizona to recognize Martin Luther King Jr. day as a career highlight. He repeatedly apologizes to Chuck D, acknowledging, "I know you want me to hurry up." Chuck nods; the audience laughs nervously.

 

Then Flav declares that he's been wearing the same clock since 1987 and now he can finally retire it and put it in the Rock Hall. He insists that he will buy another clock.

 

Chuck D follows with a brief speech, mentioning the importance of being inducted in the presence of Belafonte and Jones. He declares their music, "raptivism," and hails its influences that include DJ culture, Louis Farrakhan, and Anthrax.

 

Performance: Easily one of the night's most memorable, Public Enemy performed "Bring the Noise" and "Fight the Power" with both Terminator X and DJ Lord and the S1W. He roars "Elvis never meant shit to me" in front of a room full of people who worship Presley's sequin jumpsuit. Flav does a brief version of "911 Is a Joke." Terminator X does a quick tribute to Quincy Jones. It is the hardest moment in the history of the Rock Hall of Fame. The camera even cuts to Oprah Winfrey and she's dancing and feeling it.

 

Random Facts Discovered: None really, but Chuck knows how to get an applause line better than anyone else, declaring that all this "comes from the blues…but we'll still manipulate a 'Tom Sawyer' and f**k it up."

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 9. Flavor Flav gets booed mid-ramble. A drunken Rush fan mumbles "blah blah blah" as Belafonte delivers his speech. The room briefly teeters on the verge of warfare between the Rush horde and the 18 Public Enemy acolytes in the room, including a head-nodding Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons.

 

Inductee: Donna Summer

 

Presenter: Kelly Rowland

 

Rowland describes the late Summer as "the Queen of Disco…a voice that feet and legs and bodies can't resist…her compassion and sensitivity were as great as her voice.'"

 

Acceptance Speech: Summer's widow remembers her as "excited, gracious, funny and grateful…There were no gold records or Grammy's in our house because [summer] didn't think it was a good idea to live under the shadow of what she had done."

 

Performance: Jennifer Hudson does complete justice to both "Bad Girls" and "Save the Last Dance" in a silver sequin body suit. Hot stuff.

 

Random Fact Discovered: Summer's husband had begged her for years to do an album of standards. Once the deal was ironed out and she was set to enter the studio, she backed out at the last minute because she had new songs that she felt she needed to record.

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 4. Even Rush fans aren't insensate to the charms of the Queen of Disco. Two Rush-heads in front of me even chant, "sing it sister" at Jennifer Hudson.

 

Inductee: Albert King

 

Presenter: John Mayer

 

John Mayer delivers a heartfelt 20-minute speech about how he became a blues guitarist thanks to Stevie Ray Vaughn, but arrived at Albert King thanks to Vaughn's advocacy for his chief inspiration. He breaks down King's innovative guitar technique by imitating his emotive Gibson Flying V riffs. It is an impressive imitation that again proves that John Mayer is the Lisa Simpson of the Blues. Albert King is his Bleeding Gums Murphy.

 

Acceptance Speech: N/A. King's daughter and granddaughter graciously accept the award for the late bluesman.

 

Performance: Mayer and Gary Clark Jr. duet on "Born Under a Bad Sign." Booker T. Jones handles keyboards. It's undeniably a special moment, but for all it's technical mastery, it's surprisingly dull. The guitar solos are so long that you could've walked to Clarksdale, made a deal with a devil, and walked back all before John Mayer finished making his guitar face.

 

Random Fact Discovered: John Mayer thinks Albert King was the very definition of a "cool cat."

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 7. The ceremony is now over the three-hour mark. Rush fans are getting increasingly wrecked.

 

Inductee: Heart

 

Presenter: Chris Cornell

 

A fellow Seattle native, Cornell lauds the Wilson sisters as "superheroes with the power us mortals would never have." He claims "it never occurred to us that the Wilson's were women … gender was not mentioned because Heart clearly held their own…kicking total ass and all sexist barriers in front of them…It was pretty ballsy rock'n'roll."

 

Performance: Heart is the most surprisingly excellent performance of the night. Though they are essentially relegated to the nostalgia circuit, Ann Wilson's voice remains volcanic and Nancy Wilson never forgot how to shred. They tear through "Crazy on You" and "Barracuda" and dedicate a poignant acoustic rendition of "Dreamboat Annie (Fantasy Child)" to their parents.

 

Random Fact Discovered: When Cornell was a young struggling songwriter in Seattle, he was putting his gear in his Ford Galaxy after a gig. At the time, he was debating quitting music altogether — then he saw Ann Wilson pulling out of a private studio in her Porsche and that image kept him on the way to finding his voice.

 

If this moment never occurred, we might never have gotten "Black Hole Sun." We also might never have suffered through Audioslave.

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 5. Rush fans love them some Heart.

 

Inductee: Rush

 

Presenters: Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins of the Foo Fighters

 

Grohl recalls when he first heard Rush in 1976. A "cool stoner older cousin" gave him a copy of 2112 reeking of incense and covered in "suspicious pollen." He also describes a Rush press photo where they are dressed in kimonos and skintight pants. There is a camel toe joke. Crowd goes wild. If you aren't into Rush, the speech is basically like Homer Simpson describing the merits of Grand Funk Railroad. If you are into Rush, this is a validation of your life. Grohl used to be in Nirvana and Nirvana was considered cool, ergo…

 

Performance: The Foo Fighters perform a Rush tribute while dressed in fake wigs, mustaches and kimonos. Rush perform "Tom Sawyer." The volume in the room far exceeds any noise that Justin Bieber could ever summon from the Beliebers. There are people sobbing and hugging and fist-pumping and bass slapping. The band is tight and muscular — essentially a metal jam band for fantasy fans. This is the closest the crowd will ever come to heaven on Earth or at least the Fountain of Lamneth.

 

Random Fact Discovered: Geddy Lee is Jewish.

 

On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans: 0! Are you kidding?

[circumstantial tree]

Bitter much, mainstream media?

[tangy]

suspicious pollen?? thats awesome

 

thanks for posting that. a good read and of course and certain amount of truth to it.

 

fanbois will be fanbois and all are not huntsmen who blow the huntsmens horn.......... :smoke:

Edited April 19, 2013 by tangy

[Hatchetaxe&saw]

That was really funny!

[umoveme]

:haz:

[ILSnwdog]

I don't see that as them slamming Rush fans. Kind of a tongue in cheek nod to the fact that the evening was dominated by the power trio from Canada and their rabid fans. :)

[ILSnwdog]

I remember reading an article in Spin about 20 years ago about Rush. It was very complimentary, basically calling Rush an alternative band because they refused to give influences of the music industry. They mentioned that Kim Deal from the Pixies often went on stage sporting a Rush tee shirt. I also remember the story stating that Rush is so true to their craft that they make Metallica look like sell outs. Of course...that statment was much more profound 20 years ago. :LMAO:

[Mindcore]

I don't think it was slamming. Rush was only one of numerous (and deserving... except Public Enemy... how is that "rock"?!) inductees but, you have to admit, we Rush fans are so loyal and dedicated and we took over the entire night!

[laughedatbytime]

I remember reading an article in Spin about 20 years ago about Rush. It was very complimentary, basically calling Rush an alternative band because they refused to give influences of the music industry. They mentioned that Kim Deal from the Pixies often went on stage sporting a Rush tee shirt. I also remember the story stating that Rush is so true to their craft that they make Metallica look like sell outs. Of course...that statment was much more profound 20 years ago. :LMAO:

This one?

 

I enjoyed that one. The one I linked above is shit.

 

http://www.2112.net/powerwindows/transcripts/19920300spin.htm

 

Rush?

 

Yes, Rush. Not the movie or the B.A.D. II song. Certainly not "Rush Rush" by Paula Abdul or "Rush Street" by Richard Marx. And not even Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush. Just plain ol' eternally unfashionable, the-guy-with-a-high-voice-singing-scary-songs Rush.

 

So what in God's name is it doing in SPIN, a publication nominally devoted to alternative music? Well, I could go on about how Rush really is an alternative for lots of suburban loners, at least in the context of classic-rock overkill. About how it is the ultimate punk band for people who thought punk was bogus. But basically the bottom line is this: Even though you may think Rush is uncool, it's influenced a lot of the bands and artists that you probably think are cool.

 

Not the old fogies like Randy Newman, Nick Lowe, and Billy Joel (who apologized to Geddy Lee for missing the band's L.A. shows a few years ago). And not the cheeseball metal dudes like Queensryche who, for example, now employ Rush's former producer, lighting director, and video director. We're talking about some of the more critically praised and commercially successful groups of our era.

 

It all started a couple of years ago at the same L.A. shows that Billy Joel missed. Vernon Reid of Living Colour told Neil Peart that Rush had shown him that "a band could make it the way they wanted to." Peart was profoundly flattered because, he recalls, "I was so worried five years ago that we wouldn't leave any mark, that it was all for nothing."

 

Pretty soon anybody who played smart hard rock was being compared to the Canadian power trio: Metallica, Voivod, King's X, Faith No More, Jane's Addiction, Fishbone, Primus (Rush's current opening act), and even Guns N' Roses. Hip cartoonists Los Bros Hernandez created a kid drummer in Love And Rockets who wore a NEIL PEART IS RAD T-shirt; alt-rock goddess Kim Deal of the Pixies often wears her Rush tour T-shirt on stage. Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers even got his start in a band called Anthym (probably taking its "y" from the first name of Ayn Rand, individualist author of Anthem, which became the title of a 1974 Rush song).

 

While it's almost understandable that fellow musicians have come to give drummer-lyricist Peart, bassist-vocalist-keyboardist Lee, and guitarist Alex Lifeson their due, it's nothing short of a miracle that the critics are starting to come around, too. When I wrote my first defense of Rush for Village Voice in 1985, I was responding to colleague Chuck Eddy's slurs on the band. By the decade's end, Eddy had come around, calling it "the secret rock critic influence of 1989-90" and adding Sinead O'Connor, Midnight Oil, and Megadeth to the list of disciples.

 

And yet, if 1991 was the year that Rush returned with an album, Roll The Bones, that entered the Billboard chart at No.3, tour dates that sold out during a depression, and an updated sound that included a rap that wasn't half as goofy as Michael Jackson's or Michael Stipe's, I still couldn't help feeling a bit ambivalent . . .

 

"Neil, I hope you realize that your face is dangerously close to a pair of Damn Yankees promotional panties," I say.

 

Neil Peart, who is sitting in my sparsely-furnished apartment, laughs and launches into a good-natured anecdote about the band. In addition to ambivalence, I feel guilty about how lucky I am to have the lanky drummer over to my pad. Rush fanatics would give their eyeteeth to me in my sitch, and there I was trying to play it cool. It is the night off between the band's two shows at Madison Square Garden last December. Nursing a cold, Peart is nonetheless in good humor, especially while imitating a typical girlfriend at a Rush show. "Sometimes, you see this [exaggeratedly feigns sleep]. Sometimes this [tugs on sleeve]. But the other day Geddy and I saw this one girl literally hitting this guy."

 

With this in mind, I take the cutest young intern I can find at our office to the next night's show. She enjoys but doesn't love it and is amazed at how "well-behaved" the audience is. She is, however, impressed by how "real" Peart is when we meet him backstage. The only celebs present are John McEnroe and Tatum O'Neil. O'Neil says, "I really liked your drum solo" to Peart, who smiles and mumbles some pleasantries while I whisper, "Excuse me, but I've got to go call the gossip columnist at the New York Post." He hits me.

 

After spending the entire day in his hotel room reading the Sunday Times, Peart orders two glasses of dry sherry, tells me how he's practicing to records recorded by a Brazillian drummer named Milton Banana these days, and puts on Maceo Parker's 11-minute instrumental version of "It's A Man's World", retitled "Children's World."

 

Peart is seen as the ogre of the group, and granted, Lifeson (his pastimes are golfing and Pearl Jam) and Lee (rotisserie baseball and Nat "King" Cole) are far less intense; but it's Peart who wanted to do the rap, and who is able to drop trendy names, like Massive Attack into the conversation. Even so, he's still Neil Peart, whose rugged individualism makes Metallica's James Hetfield seem like a Commie in comparison.

 

I had set out to really grill the guy, but from the outset he takes control of the conversation. First he lays down the premises: Peart believes in "standards of quality" and "progress, though not linear"; for the most part, "there are no failures of talent, only failures of character"; it's also true that "first we must acquire the virtues and then eliminate the vices." He then quotes Duke Ellington's dictum that "there are only two types of music -- good and bad."

 

Eventually, though, we get more specific. Talking about the situation in Eastern Europe, the man who wrote "Free Will" concedes, "If I had been born in Bulgaria, no matter how much free will I'd have wished to apply, it would've been worthless." It is this hopelessness, which Peart also finds in the AIDS situation, that fills him with enormous resentment. "My response is always anger. It's so gratuitous. There's no reason, no fault, no blame."

 

I wondered if this cosmic capriciousness frustrated his white, Western, male, middle-class, and middle-brow nature. "The basic questions I ask in Roll The Bones -- 'Why are we here?' 'Why does it happen?' -- are the wrong questions. It's 'What can we do about it?'"

 

The Maceo jam climaxes, and I tell Peart that when I saw the sax master recently in concert he said that funk was "happy music." In those terms, where does he see Rush's music fitting in?

 

"At it's best, it's inspiring. Who's that guy in Seattle that pitched a no-hitter? He'd played his drums that day and when he was out there pitching, he was thinking of Rush songs. When I was writing 'The Pass' [a 1989 song about teen suicide], some kids told me that people who are truly suicidal listen to Pink Floyd. Rush is seen as hopeful music."

 

For the many who see Rush's music as hopeless, the pyrotechnic sticksman has a surprising tolerance. "It's fine for people to say they hate us -- our music is too busy, too self-absorbed elevated. Or they hate Geddy's voice. Fine. That's a taste thing."

 

Actually, it's more than a taste thing. After all, as the Duke would ask, "Is it good or is it bad?" At this point, Peart stops backpedaling and defends his honor. "Rhythm is the basis of a lot of musical styles. To Rush, it's just an element. That's why we're accused of being too busy, too convoluted, too far-reaching. Yes, we're restless, and yes, our work is uneven -- but no one can ever question the sincerity of the attempt."

 

No one was questioning the sincerity of the attempt, at least not in this room. I just wanted to know if Rush's '70s-style eclecticism was still relevant. Back in high school, it certainly had been. With its mix of power pop, barroom piano, and mock reggae, "The Spirit Of Radio" had been the prefect antidote to the skinny-tie ska geeks and anemic new wavers. But is the funk, folk, and rap of "Roll The Bones" just as effective in 1992? Peart, unflappable as ever, is free of doubt.

 

"'The Spirit Of Radio' is a valid musical gumbo, even now. The concept was to combine styles in a radical way to represent what radio should be. I think we really nailed that with 'Roll The Bones' as well. And it's happening on the fringe of pop music -- like Faith No More. They're not afraid to head off in a strange direction within a song. But it's still unacceptable in the mainstream. There's this strange intolerance among music fans."

 

Valid musical gumbo? I'd still buy that for a dollar.

[Snaked]

On a scale of 1-10 how impatient does this article make RUSH fans? -

WHO CARES! They're in the RnRHoF finally!!!

[ShlappinDahBass]

I think this was more of "screwing around" with the fans rather than "bashing" them. Either way, I was giggling at how much no one cared about Public Enemy.

[Patty]

I think this was more of "screwing around" with the fans rather than "bashing" them. Either way, I was giggling at how much no one cared about Public Enemy.

 

I'll have to admit, I HAD to leave the auditorium for part of Public Enemy's performance...I just couldn't listen to another minute of it! There were TONS of people out in the lobby areas and in the restrooms doing the same thing. (Sort of like taking a snack and pee break during commercials).

[Animate]

"On a Scale of 1-10, How Impatient Did it Make Rush Fans:"

 

"..The room briefly teeters on the verge of warfare between the Rush horde and the 18 Public Enemy acolytes in the room..."

 

 

Love it! Too fricken funny!

[rushgoober]

Yeah, the article was digging at Rush fans, but in an entertaining way. My favorite line of the article:

 

"If you aren't into Rush, the speech is basically like Homer Simpson describing the merits of Grand Funk Railroad. If you are into Rush, this is a validation of your life."

 

Nice! :haz:

[ILSnwdog]

I remember reading an article in Spin about 20 years ago about Rush. It was very complimentary, basically calling Rush an alternative band because they refused to give influences of the music industry. They mentioned that Kim Deal from the Pixies often went on stage sporting a Rush tee shirt. I also remember the story stating that Rush is so true to their craft that they make Metallica look like sell outs. Of course...that statment was much more profound 20 years ago. :LMAO:

This one?

 

I enjoyed that one. The one I linked above is shit.

 

http://www.2112.net/powerwindows/transcripts/19920300spin.htm

 

Rush?

 

Yes, Rush. Not the movie or the B.A.D. II song. Certainly not "Rush Rush" by Paula Abdul or "Rush Street" by Richard Marx. And not even Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush. Just plain ol' eternally unfashionable, the-guy-with-a-high-voice-singing-scary-songs Rush.

 

So what in God's name is it doing in SPIN, a publication nominally devoted to alternative music? Well, I could go on about how Rush really is an alternative for lots of suburban loners, at least in the context of classic-rock overkill. About how it is the ultimate punk band for people who thought punk was bogus. But basically the bottom line is this: Even though you may think Rush is uncool, it's influenced a lot of the bands and artists that you probably think are cool.

 

Not the old fogies like Randy Newman, Nick Lowe, and Billy Joel (who apologized to Geddy Lee for missing the band's L.A. shows a few years ago). And not the cheeseball metal dudes like Queensryche who, for example, now employ Rush's former producer, lighting director, and video director. We're talking about some of the more critically praised and commercially successful groups of our era.

 

It all started a couple of years ago at the same L.A. shows that Billy Joel missed. Vernon Reid of Living Colour told Neil Peart that Rush had shown him that "a band could make it the way they wanted to." Peart was profoundly flattered because, he recalls, "I was so worried five years ago that we wouldn't leave any mark, that it was all for nothing."

 

Pretty soon anybody who played smart hard rock was being compared to the Canadian power trio: Metallica, Voivod, King's X, Faith No More, Jane's Addiction, Fishbone, Primus (Rush's current opening act), and even Guns N' Roses. Hip cartoonists Los Bros Hernandez created a kid drummer in Love And Rockets who wore a NEIL PEART IS RAD T-shirt; alt-rock goddess Kim Deal of the Pixies often wears her Rush tour T-shirt on stage. Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers even got his start in a band called Anthym (probably taking its "y" from the first name of Ayn Rand, individualist author of Anthem, which became the title of a 1974 Rush song).

 

While it's almost understandable that fellow musicians have come to give drummer-lyricist Peart, bassist-vocalist-keyboardist Lee, and guitarist Alex Lifeson their due, it's nothing short of a miracle that the critics are starting to come around, too. When I wrote my first defense of Rush for Village Voice in 1985, I was responding to colleague Chuck Eddy's slurs on the band. By the decade's end, Eddy had come around, calling it "the secret rock critic influence of 1989-90" and adding Sinead O'Connor, Midnight Oil, and Megadeth to the list of disciples.

 

And yet, if 1991 was the year that Rush returned with an album, Roll The Bones, that entered the Billboard chart at No.3, tour dates that sold out during a depression, and an updated sound that included a rap that wasn't half as goofy as Michael Jackson's or Michael Stipe's, I still couldn't help feeling a bit ambivalent . . .

 

"Neil, I hope you realize that your face is dangerously close to a pair of Damn Yankees promotional panties," I say.

 

Neil Peart, who is sitting in my sparsely-furnished apartment, laughs and launches into a good-natured anecdote about the band. In addition to ambivalence, I feel guilty about how lucky I am to have the lanky drummer over to my pad. Rush fanatics would give their eyeteeth to me in my sitch, and there I was trying to play it cool. It is the night off between the band's two shows at Madison Square Garden last December. Nursing a cold, Peart is nonetheless in good humor, especially while imitating a typical girlfriend at a Rush show. "Sometimes, you see this [exaggeratedly feigns sleep]. Sometimes this [tugs on sleeve]. But the other day Geddy and I saw this one girl literally hitting this guy."

 

With this in mind, I take the cutest young intern I can find at our office to the next night's show. She enjoys but doesn't love it and is amazed at how "well-behaved" the audience is. She is, however, impressed by how "real" Peart is when we meet him backstage. The only celebs present are John McEnroe and Tatum O'Neil. O'Neil says, "I really liked your drum solo" to Peart, who smiles and mumbles some pleasantries while I whisper, "Excuse me, but I've got to go call the gossip columnist at the New York Post." He hits me.

 

After spending the entire day in his hotel room reading the Sunday Times, Peart orders two glasses of dry sherry, tells me how he's practicing to records recorded by a Brazillian drummer named Milton Banana these days, and puts on Maceo Parker's 11-minute instrumental version of "It's A Man's World", retitled "Children's World."

 

Peart is seen as the ogre of the group, and granted, Lifeson (his pastimes are golfing and Pearl Jam) and Lee (rotisserie baseball and Nat "King" Cole) are far less intense; but it's Peart who wanted to do the rap, and who is able to drop trendy names, like Massive Attack into the conversation. Even so, he's still Neil Peart, whose rugged individualism makes Metallica's James Hetfield seem like a Commie in comparison.

 

I had set out to really grill the guy, but from the outset he takes control of the conversation. First he lays down the premises: Peart believes in "standards of quality" and "progress, though not linear"; for the most part, "there are no failures of talent, only failures of character"; it's also true that "first we must acquire the virtues and then eliminate the vices." He then quotes Duke Ellington's dictum that "there are only two types of music -- good and bad."

 

Eventually, though, we get more specific. Talking about the situation in Eastern Europe, the man who wrote "Free Will" concedes, "If I had been born in Bulgaria, no matter how much free will I'd have wished to apply, it would've been worthless." It is this hopelessness, which Peart also finds in the AIDS situation, that fills him with enormous resentment. "My response is always anger. It's so gratuitous. There's no reason, no fault, no blame."

 

I wondered if this cosmic capriciousness frustrated his white, Western, male, middle-class, and middle-brow nature. "The basic questions I ask in Roll The Bones -- 'Why are we here?' 'Why does it happen?' -- are the wrong questions. It's 'What can we do about it?'"

 

The Maceo jam climaxes, and I tell Peart that when I saw the sax master recently in concert he said that funk was "happy music." In those terms, where does he see Rush's music fitting in?

 

"At it's best, it's inspiring. Who's that guy in Seattle that pitched a no-hitter? He'd played his drums that day and when he was out there pitching, he was thinking of Rush songs. When I was writing 'The Pass' [a 1989 song about teen suicide], some kids told me that people who are truly suicidal listen to Pink Floyd. Rush is seen as hopeful music."

 

For the many who see Rush's music as hopeless, the pyrotechnic sticksman has a surprising tolerance. "It's fine for people to say they hate us -- our music is too busy, too self-absorbed elevated. Or they hate Geddy's voice. Fine. That's a taste thing."

 

Actually, it's more than a taste thing. After all, as the Duke would ask, "Is it good or is it bad?" At this point, Peart stops backpedaling and defends his honor. "Rhythm is the basis of a lot of musical styles. To Rush, it's just an element. That's why we're accused of being too busy, too convoluted, too far-reaching. Yes, we're restless, and yes, our work is uneven -- but no one can ever question the sincerity of the attempt."

 

No one was questioning the sincerity of the attempt, at least not in this room. I just wanted to know if Rush's '70s-style eclecticism was still relevant. Back in high school, it certainly had been. With its mix of power pop, barroom piano, and mock reggae, "The Spirit Of Radio" had been the prefect antidote to the skinny-tie ska geeks and anemic new wavers. But is the funk, folk, and rap of "Roll The Bones" just as effective in 1992? Peart, unflappable as ever, is free of doubt.

 

"'The Spirit Of Radio' is a valid musical gumbo, even now. The concept was to combine styles in a radical way to represent what radio should be. I think we really nailed that with 'Roll The Bones' as well. And it's happening on the fringe of pop music -- like Faith No More. They're not afraid to head off in a strange direction within a song. But it's still unacceptable in the mainstream. There's this strange intolerance among music fans."

 

Valid musical gumbo? I'd still buy that for a dollar.

That's the one! :ebert:

[ThinkingBig]

http://www.spin.com/...ign=spintwitter

 

Hell hath no fury like a Rush fan scorned. For over a decade, the cult of the Toronto prog-rock power trio has been waiting for their idols to earn ingress into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They have watched everyone from Alice Cooper to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Donovan to Genesis, be feted by the industry cabal comprising the institution's voting panel. Last night at the Nokia Theater in Los Angeles was their time, they had earned this and they had the Rush baseball jerseys to prove it.

 

There's no such thing as a casual Rush fan (just read this list). It's like a bizarre bespectacled triangulation of the Grateful Dead, Star Trek, and Hawkwind. Nerds who worship power. They transformed what was nominally a celebration to honor Quincy Jones, Heart, blues guitarist Albert King, producer Lou Adler, Public Enemy, Randy Newman, Donna Summer and yes, Rush, into a holy grail deleted scene from I Love You, Man.

 

The ceremony included speeches and performances from Oprah Winfrey, John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Usher, Harry Belafonte, Tom Petty, Gary Clark Jr., Booker T. & The MGs, Spike Lee, Dave Grohl, and Jennifer Hudson. Jack Nicholson and Russell "Rush" Simmons whooped in the audience. A surprise encore featured half the above names, plus Tom Morello and DMC, performing a cover of "Crossroads." But for 92 percent of the room only three men were fit to wield the Rush moniker: drummer Neil Peart, bassist Geddy Lee, and Alex Lifeson, the lead guitarist who no one ever really talks about.

 

Fans were boozy and bathed in fluorescent light, air-slapping the bass, and impatiently waiting for their heroes to earn long-awaited canonization. Rhinestone Rush shirts and Rush uniforms were ubiquitous. Merch lines were almost as long as the band's guitar solos. Bald ginger-bearded men breezed past in "Got Geddy" tees. A feeling of comeuppance was in the air. And when the group's chosen inductor, Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, ruminated on the question of when exactly "Rush became cool," two bros in front of me ripped off their T-shirts, hugged, and high-fived.

 

While the Canucks monopolized the mood inside Nokia, the most memorable moments from the 28th annual ceremony arrived via artists who didn't write concept albums about a world ruled by the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx. The ceremony airs on HBO on Saturday, May 18, hopefully pared down from the four-and-a-half hour live version. In the interim, here's a breakdown of what went down on the night that Rush finally joined the ranks of John Mellencamp and the Dave Clark Five.

 

 

 

 

As I read this, all I hear is....

 

 

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH....

[thizzellewashington]

I thought it was funny.

[thebernreuter]

I had no idea Spin was still a magazine. Who gives a shit? Edited April 20, 2013 by thebernreuter

[thebernreuter]

A band that has passionate fans is "spun" to be negative. If they had been inducted in a timely manner, none of this would be an issue. I thought the "rock historian" circle-jerk of Rush bashing was behind us.

[Patty]

I was very proud of my fellow Rush fans, (for the most part), during what seemed like an ENDLESS amount of time to wait for the Grand Finale! However...

 

Yes, HOWEVER! I heard a small group of male voices coming from the upper balcony to the right who were being very disruptive and disrespectful during Quincy Jones's acceptance speech. They were yelling for him to get off the stage and then they chanted Rush, Rush, Rush. At that point, I was mortified for every Rush fan around the world who might be judged by this behavior. They started up again while Harry Belefonte was speaking!

 

If we, as Rush fans, expect the music world to respect our band, how in the hell can we show such DISrespect to anyone else? And QUINCY JONES...for crying out loud? Yes, he rambled on for a long time and repeated himself for nearly half an hour. GUESS WHAT? He's f***ing EARNED his little bit of time on stage after a career such as his! I was happy to listen to the wisdom he wanted to share. The only thing I stressed about during his time on stage was the fact that poor Oprah had to stand there behind him like a statue in heels! She's magnificent.

 

As for the hecklers, I heard some commotion going on behind me shortly thereafter by security people. I sincerely hope that the jerks up in the balcony who kept yelling for Rush were kicked to the curb. Fortunately, the people in the front who were sitting with the band DIDN'T hear it at all!

[eshine]

Well, keep in mind that SPIN is about as releveant as Windows 98.

 

But no, I'm not surprised at all that some Rush fans were disruptive jerks who drank too much.

 

Wouldn't be a Rush show without them, unfortuntely.

[zappafrank]

except Public Enemy... how is that "rock"?!

 

It's become the Popular (as opposed to classical, jazz, etc, I guess) Music HoF.

 

I really wish people would realize that by now and get off of this "so-and-so ain't rock, man!!!" soap box. And no offense intended, but I think it's really naive in this day and age to view it as being relegated just to things that "rock." Love it or hate it, it's become an institution whose intent - misguided though it seems to be much of the time - that honors artists* who have made significant contributions to the medium of popular/mainstream/mass consumed/whatever music (and yes, I realize that "mainstream" doesn't apply to Rush as traditionally interpreted). When re-evaluated in that sense, PE more than deserve to be involved. I would visit the RRHoF to see the artifacts of and tributes to all the artists I was exposed to and enjoyed on the radio, on TV, etc, I see it as being for the person who loves "popular" music as a whole. "RRHoF" is an easily marketable brand, but in reality, it's grown beyond just that, and people really just need to accept that.

 

(Just like I think people would have less of a problem with "MTV" if what we have now hadn't grown out of what it was... not that I'm defending the crap that's on there now, mind you. My point is that it's become something else now, and you can either accept that or reject it, but there's no point in getting mad about how what it is no longer what it was.)

 

* Some a little bit later than others, obviously. :)

Edited April 20, 2013 by zappafrank

[Tony R]

Public Enemy may not have crashing guitars but their music is as heavy and visceral as any rock band. In the grand scheme of things they qualify on many levels not least their enormous cultural impact and genre-defining. They are brilliant at what they do, they have integrity and they are anti-establishment.

And they are far more deserving than Rush.

 

[tangy]

Public Enemy may not have crashing guitars but their music is as heavy and visceral as any rock band. In the grand scheme of things they qualify on many levels not least their enormous cultural impact and genre-defining. They are brilliant at what they do, they have integrity and they are anti-establishment.

And they are far more deserving than Rush.

 

great post. i might argue a little over the more deserving part but the rest is pretty much spot on and i do think in the biger picture they have been more influential on modern music. however, rush has been far more consistent over the years and to me PE best work are the first four discs, after that i lost interest.

 

on the first disc they had Vernon Reid ( living colour ) play guitar, they sampled Slayer on their second disc among many others and by disc four they were recording and the touring performing with anthrax.

[Tony R]

Public Enemy may not have crashing guitars but their music is as heavy and visceral as any rock band. In the grand scheme of things they qualify on many levels not least their enormous cultural impact and genre-defining. They are brilliant at what they do, they have integrity and they are anti-establishment.

And they are far more deserving than Rush.

 

great post. i might argue a little over the more deserving part but the rest is pretty much spot on and i do think in the biger picture they have been more influential on modern music. however, rush has been far more consistent over the years and to me PE best work are the first four discs, after that i lost interest.

 

on the first disc they had Vernon Reid ( living colour ) play guitar, they sampled Slayer on their second disc among many others and by disc four they were recording and the touring performing with anthrax.

 

I agree about their first 4 albums, after that they pretty much had little to rail against.

Public Enemy, NWA, Biggie and Tupac were real artists with important things to say. Pity about the gang culture but ultimately that's what fired their craft.