Skip to main content
Rush did an admirable job of teasing fans for well over a year about the prospect of a 40th anniversary tour. The Canadian trio has spent the last decade playing setlists either heavy on new material or focused on self-indulgent specialty eras. R40's stop at Moda Center on July 21 was payback to anyone who ever liked Rush, as the evening began with material from 2012's Clockwork Angels and proceeded all the way back to its standard finale of "Working Man" from the self-titled 1974 debut.
Geddy Lee may have lost his higher vocal register, but that was always part of his problem communicating with a larger potential audience, anyway. His vocal chords have warmed and mellowed with age, and though he ducks and weaves during '70s gems like "Closer To The Heart" he positively shines on the later material. I've seen him struggle with pitch many times during the "meek shall inherit the earth" line between the 2112 "Overture" and "Temple of the Syrinx," but he nailed it tonight.
Everyone who springs for a Rush show expects a drum solo from Neil Peart. What was particularly rewarding on R40 is that not only was it a new solo, but it diverged significantly from the one he played in Seattle only two nights earlier. The entire setlist had minor variations as well, with the Portland crowd getting an ultimately heavier and more muscular performance than what we saw up north on Sunday.
As the night proceeded, the audience was treated to spectacular renditions of tunes like the synth-heavy "Subdivisions" and the tongue-in-cheek hit "Roll the Bones"—this version featuring guest lip-synchers on the rap section. On the big screen, there were Trailer Park Boys and a welcome cameo from Peter Dinklage. It took them decades, but more than ever, Rush seems to actually have tapped its finger into the pulse of its culture.
After the intermission and a cute video introduction by masquerading South Park characters, Rush entered stage left and proceeded to whallop the crowd with all of its epics from the '70s. âJacobâs Ladderâ proved just how metal the trio can get. Abridged versions of âCygnus X-1â (Book II included) were unleashed as collective jaws dropped. Then âXanaduâ brought the house down, with Peart playing complex patterns on a variety of bells, constantly standing to strike, then returning to his throne to rule.
If I haven't mentioned Alex Lifeson yet, it's because I like to save the best for last. He may be the most unsung guitar hero of all time, wrapping the emotion of David Gilmour, the outer reaches of Jimi Hendrix, and the absolute fury of Randy Rhoads into one Frankenstein's monster of an axe-wielder. Every solo he spun from his guitar was a marvel, and he even brought out a vintage double-neck to lay down some gorgeous 12-string action.
Selections from the 2112 suite brought the second set to a close, but the encore yielded even more nuggets from the first three albums. Throughout the night, the guitars changed from song to song, and so did the stage set. The opening numbers revealed the band playing in front of its latest steampunk-inspired monitors. Slowly, these were replaced by the washing machines from the Snakes & Arrows era. Eventually these were switched out for a tiered pyramid of amp heads and speaker cabinets which gradually shrank as the band delved further back in time, presumably to an era in which it couldn't afford to carry as much gear.
The Oregonian noted that many fans in the 300 level complained about the sound. I can't attest to that because I was in the center on the floor. Not only was the audio loud and clear where I stood, it was positively superior to the mix I heard at Key Arena in Seattle. Amusingly, David Greenwald notes in this article that, "Even for an arena act, the band plays loud—at one point, both Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson played in front of a wall of amplifiers." I have to smirk at this since Rush fans are well aware that the band does not use stage amplification, and all of the props we saw were clearly hollow and for show. Perhaps if the stagehands carrying these amps and cabinets had been professional mimes, it might have been less obvious, but I digress.
Geddy Lee is a hard-working man. Playing bass, synth, and singing simultaneously is no mean feat. Still, he was the weakest link at this show, flubbing a few bass notes, missing the mark on at least one very obvious punch. I saw him mouth âfuckâ and âsorryâ at various points. Still, complaining about a minor error in the midst of a highly complex three-hour set is about the same as buying a beautiful full-length mirror and complaining that thereâs a thumbprint in the bottom corner. Overall, it was an awe-inspiring set from the best live band in the world. We can only hope that they decide to carry on a little longer and grace us one more time.
WWeek 2015