It's the "Synth Kitty!" Applause! Encore!

This has to be the coolest cat EVER!!! It looks like a tabby, so I guess that's no surprise, lol!

Rush: A great interview every time

The release of Retrospective 3 has generated much interest in the Rush camp lately.

The band is a major plot point to the recent movie I Love You Man. It seems like the band is in one of it's "hip periods" with the general public, something that doesn't happen often.

Like, uh, ever...except for perhaps the period from 1980-82, over the succession of the releases Permanent Waves, Moving Pictures, Exit...Stage Left, and Signals.

It should dissipate soon, I can hear Rush fans hoping...and it would be nice if it was before the next tour, so I can get front row seats for under $500, lol.

After listening in on interviews by the band over the last 25 years, I'm amazed very time Ged, Alex, and Neil ~ individually, collectively, or in some combination thereof ~ present a fascinating interview for the listener.

It seems that each member brings in a different spin and insight of the band, and has something fresh to present. Maybe that's why they're interviewed so much.

Not only is the band Rush fascinating, but what its members have to say is of great interest...and I'm sure I'm not biased.

Here's yet another great interview from In the Studio with Redbeard, on the 35th Anniversary of the debut album...with more interesting insights.

From The Sunday Times

March 22, 2009

The dark side of Pink Floyd

It’s rock music’s most complicated saga, involving ego wars, madness and death. Robert Sandall explains why nothing — not even $250m — can put the pieces of Pink Floyd together again

Pink Floyd fans are an optimistic lot. A year ago the band’s blogging followers were talking up a putative tour in 2009 that would reunite the so-called “classic” 1970s line-up — the one responsible for their 40m-selling magnum opus The Dark Side of the Moon — for their first proper concert since 1980.
To a large extent, this represented the triumph of hope over experience. Of the many attempts to get the four members of Pink Floyd back on stage together, only Bob Geldof’s had come off. After the fractious foursome re-convened for an historic 18-minute slot at Live 8 in 2005, the world’s largest concert promoters, Live Nation, offered them a record $250m — pure profit, net of all production expenses, which the promoters would cover separately — to tour North America. This figure valued Pink Floyd as a bigger live draw than the Rolling Stones, and was more than twice what Live Nation shelled out to sign Madonna to an inclusive concert-and-albums deal in 2007.
True to form, the Floyd declined, mainly at the behest of David Gilmour. The band’s guitarist, who compared their Live 8 performance to “sleeping with your ex-wife”, was planning his most ambitious solo tour yet, to run from 2006 until the end of 2008. Prominent in Gilmour’s band was the Floyd’s keyboard player, Rick Wright, whose ejection from the group in 1979 led to years of discord in which the three remaining squabbled over who owned the band’s name.
It was Wright’s rehabilitation as Gilmour’s new buddy —coupled with the conciliatory noises emanating from drummer, Nick Mason, and the previously hostile bassist, Roger Waters — that helped to raise hopes of a 2009 Floyd tour. Once Gilmour’s solo tour had wrapped at Gdansk in November 2008, the feeling among the Floyd faithful was that the long-awaited reunion might be back on the cards.
Sadly, it wasn’t. Rick Wright died of cancer last September, a tragic loss which, like the death of Pink Floyd’s prime mover, Syd Barrett, in 2006, inspired an avalanche of obituaries unusual for the passing of a pop musician. It also brought to light aspects of the shifting alliances that have characterised the career of Pink Floyd, one of rock’s most complicated soaps.
Tellingly, none of his bandmates seemed to have known how ill Wright was, a fact that confirms how the members of Pink Floyd have long kept each other at a distance socially. Waters, who now lives mainly in the Hamptons, New York, hadn’t spoken to Wright all year. A fortnight before Wright’s death, Gilmour received a message that his keyboard player would not be able to take part in an upcoming TV broadcast for Jools Holland’s Later. When I spoke to Mason in Islington, the day before Wright died, he had no inkling of what was unfolding in the organist’s Kensington home. Mason was talking about “the faint possibility” of a Floyd reunion. “My bags are packed,” he said.
The public tributes the other three paid to Wright after his death revealed as much about their view of the group as they did about him. Waters, the former self-appointed leader who kicked Wright out of the band in 1979, said his “thoughts were with his family”. Conventional enough, but the family Waters named was the one Wright broke up when he divorced his first wife in 1982, shortly before Waters himself left the group. The subtext made it clear that Waters was hankering for the Floyd’s heyday in the 1970s and early ’80s. This was the period when he effectively ran the group — a situation flagged on the last record he made with them, The Final Cut, subtitle A Requiem for the Post War Dream, by Roger Waters, performed by Pink Floyd. Twenty-five years on, and following a so-so solo career during which he often resorted to billing himself as “the creative genius behind Pink Floyd”, Waters clearly wanted his old band back. After expressing gratitude “for the opportunity that Live 8 afforded me to engage with him [Wright] and David and Nick that one last time”, Waters’ farewell to Wright ended: “I wish there had been more.”
Mason’s tribute told another story. He praised Wright as “the underrated one”, adding that his swirling, layered keyboards were the band’s true hallmark sound, which “tended to get forgotten among the welter of guitar solos”. This less-than-flattering reference to the Floyd’s guitarist was in keeping with Mason’s recent memoir, Inside Out, a book whose jaunty and disrespectful tone greatly annoyed the serious-minded Gilmour and disrupted an alliance dating back to 1985, when Mason and Gilmour fought Waters for the right to carry on as a duo after he walked out and tried to prevent them from using the name Pink Floyd.
At that point they could have reinstated Rick Wright, but chose not to. Although they recalled him to play in their squad of backing musicians and to co-write some songs — “because I thought it would make us stronger legally and musically”, Gilmour once said — Wright’s days as a full band member were over. To the end he remained, in effect, a paid employee of Pink Floyd. Notwithstanding Wright’s technical status, nobody could doubt the sincerity of the tribute Gilmour posted on his website. Of the three, it was the most personal and heartfelt. “No-one can rep
lace Richard Wright. He was my musical partner and my friend. He was such a lovely, gentle, genuine man.” This was followed with a belated apology for having deprived this lovely character of his membership of the band he loyally served for over 40 years: “In the welter of arguments about who or what was Pink Floyd, Rick’s enormous input was frequently forgotten.”
Like most issues relating to the band, the “forgetting” of Rick Wright’s contribution boils down to a personality clash. Sensitive, fragile and, according to the Floyd’s first manager, Peter Jenner, “dithery”, Wright was ill-equipped for the ego wars that came to dominate Pink Floyd after the departure of Syd Barrett in 1968. A self-taught multi-instrumentalist who grew up in thrall to classical music and modern jazz — “I never liked R&B very much,” he said — Wright was the one most in tune with Barrett’s maverick, improvising talent.

Finding he had little in common with his Regent Street Polytechnic bandmates, Mason and Waters, Wright bonded with Barrett; and once the Floyd’s psychedelic poster boy began to lose his mind to LSD, Wright stuck by him. While the rest of the group plotted to remove their increasingly unreliable leader from the touring band — swiftly replacing him with his Cambridge college-mate, David Gilmour — Wright moved into a flat with Barrett in Richmond to try to hold him together. When he would disappear in the evening to play gigs, leaving the addled Barrett behind staring at the wall, Wright would tell him he was popping out to buy cigarettes. “It was awful,” he later said of this deception.
Believing Barrett and Wright to be the more musically gifted half of a disintegrating group, Pink Floyd’s management contemplated forming a breakaway band to rescue Barrett from his demons. But it never happened. Wright, who said he “would have left with him like a shot if I had thought Syd could do it”, stayed on with Pink Floyd where, like new recruit Gilmour, he came under fire from the band’s emerging bossy-boots ideologue, Roger Waters.
Jenner ascribes this to simple jealousy: “Rick was Roger’s real rival. He was better looking and he had a better voice.” Having lost his musical foil, and his friend, Wright became progressively isolated. He made a decisive contribution to the 1973 breakthrough album, The Dark Side of the Moon, whose subtle balancing of soft and loud passages owed much, Wright believed, to his “being brought up on classical music, in which the symphonies have huge dynamics”. But he argued with Waters over the subject of their next album, 1975’s extended elegy for Syd Barrett, Wish You Were Here, taking issue with Waters’ preoccupation with madness “something I didn’t feel so strongly about”. He was spooked by an incident at the end of the Abbey Road recording sessions when Barrett turned up, unrecognisably overweight, brandishing a toothbrush and demanding to play guitar on the track Shine On You Crazy Diamond.
Wright’s natural diffidence made the acclaim that accompanied the Floyd’s meteoric ascent after Dark Side — soon to become the biggest-selling album of the 1970s — difficult for him to deal with. His bandmates didn’t help. Persistently ragged for his alleged stinginess — “Rick wasn’t really a skinflint,” Mason admitted later, “we just decided to turn him into the Jack Benny of the group” — Wright found touring an increasingly lonely experience. To counter the stress, he took up ocean sailing, a hobby that put even more distance between him and his fellow Floyders.
By the late 1970s Wright was in trouble. His marriage was on the rocks, and, having written classics such as The Great Gig in the Sky, he now had writer’s block. Word within the Floyd camp had it that Wright’s failure to come up with any new material was not helped by his increasing consumption of cocaine — a habit frowned upon by a group that, unlike the rest of planet rock at the time, steered clear of all drugs.
Things came to a head in 1979 while recording The Wall at the Super Bear studio in the south of France. The band’s recent loss of £2m with the investment company Norton Warburg had left them heavily in debt and forced them into tax exile. It also put pressure on their next recording sessions, a tense situation made worse by a growing feud between Waters — who had devised the album’s storyline and written most of the songs — and Gilmour, who complained that Waters’ music was “incredibly naff”. Wright sided with Gilmour, who asked him to help improve it. Wright, however, failed to deliver. “We’d all go home at night,” Gilmour recalled, “and we’d say to Rick, ‘Do what you like, here are these tracks, write something, play a solo, put something down. You’ve got all evening, every evening, to do it.’ But he wasn’t capable of playing anything.”
Wright blamed the overbearing personality of Waters: “He was making it impossible for me to do anything.” Others blamed the drugs. With a deadline looming, Waters summoned Wright to LA where the band had relocated, to finish his keyboard parts. When Wright refused to interrupt his sailing holiday around the Greek islands, Waters called a band meeting at which he demanded his dismissal. At first Wright refused to leave, but after Waters threatened to walk out, binning the unfinished album, he panicked. “That meant there would be no money to pay off our huge debts. I was terrified. I had two kids to support. So I agreed to go.”
Wright later regretted the decision. “It was Roger’s bluff. But I really didn’t want to work with this guy any more.”
Wright’s dismissal marked the end of Pink Floyd as a mutual creative force — for the next five years they were the Roger Waters band — and the beginning of a struggle for control of the brand. As the individual members have long since discovered in their less successful solo careers, there is a commercial magic in the name Pink Floyd that transcends the performers it describes. This is partly down to the faceless nature of their son et lumière presentation. The vast light show, the visual stunts such as the inflatable pig, and the sound effects — clanking cash registers and all — tend to take precedence over the musicians on stage. As Mason puts it, “We’re lucky in that we don’t have to promote a Bono or a Mick Jagger.”
But names can be tricky to manage too. In his typically self-deprecating fashion, Mason said recently of the sacking of their organist: “Dave and I decided to gang up with the school bully rather than fight for truth and justice.” But slack as they might have been in resisting the expulsion of Wright, when in 1985 Mason and Gilmour fought Waters in the High Court for the right to call themselves Pink Floyd, record an album and set out on a four-year tour (the longest of their career to date), they won. And so it came to pass that the only people currently entitled to use the name Pink Floyd are David Gilmour and Nick Mason, when both are together on stage or in the studio. Aside from Live 8, the last time that happened was in 1995, on the tour for what is, and may well remain, the final Pink Floyd album, The Division Bell. When Gilmour toured his recent solo album, On an Island, it was noted that he didn’t invite Mason to play drums. The simmering row over the drummer’s memoir wasn’t the half of it. With Mason present, Gilmour would have reconstituted the legal entity known as Pink Floyd.
The tenacity with which the members of Pink Floyd have remained at loggerheads is remarkable. At its heart lies the fraught relationship between Waters and Gilmour, two men who are often called “arrogant” and “obstinate”. Creatively, this conflict has been summarised by Mason as “a tension between Roger’s wanting to make a show, and Dave’s desire to make music” — a reference to the fact that Waters is stronger on album “concepts” while Gilmour is the more talented singer and technician.
Its roots, however, go back to their shared upbringing in Cambridge. As teenagers, Gilmour and Waters were on nodding terms, but their connection was forged after both, separately, became friends of a magnetic boho character, Roger “Syd” Barrett. Gilmour and Barrett spent a summer busking in France. Waters, two years older, attended the same grammar school as Barrett and sought him out after they both moved to London to study. It was apparent in the first incarnation of Pink Floyd that Waters hero-worshipped Barrett, the band’s leader and main songwriter. According to Peter Jenner, “Syd was the only person Roger Waters has ever really liked and looked up to.” At a Barrett tribute concert held after his death at the Barbican in 2006,
Waters made the surprise announcement: “Without Syd I’d probably have been a property developer or something.”
Though Gilmour’s Cambridge background made him the obvious choice to replace Barrett — and he soon became a key player in repositioning Pink Floyd as a mainstream, rather than an “underground” act — Waters often treated him like a junior. “It’s that old playground thing,” Gilmour once said. “If you’re a couple of years younger, that’s the way you stay.” Others have speculated that Gilmour’s teenage friendship with Barrett and his family made Waters jealous. Surveying 40 years of internecine wrangling, the juvenile nature of much of it is what strikes Mason: “If any of our children behaved in the way we have to each other, we would be very cross with them.”
As things stand, their lives barely cross, personally or professionally. Mason recently got back on speaking terms with his old pal from Regent Street Poly, Roger Waters, for whom he has occasionally played drums on his solo shows. But none of them needs to set foot on a stage again. The most recent Sunday Times Rich List estimates that Waters, Gilmour and Mason have fortunes of £95m, £85m and £55m respectively. Former band member Wright didn’t feature on the list, but with houses in Kensington and the south of France and a large yacht in the Bahamas, he was clearly surviving comfortably on the royalty cheques from Pink Floyd’s glory years in the 1970s.
In fact, money is about the only thing this contentious combo haven’t argued about. Waters never went to war over it during his legal moves to stymie Mason and Gilmour. Whatever arrangement they came to with Wright, he never uttered a word of complaint about his treatment financially. In a gesture that helped to earn him a CBE in 2003, Gilmour donated the £3.6m he got from the sale of his London home in Little Venice — which was bought by Earl Spencer — to a charity for the homeless. “I don’t need that money, I have more than enough,” he commented, grandly.
Their lifestyles are — by the standards of most 60-something squillionaire rock stars — impeccably haut bourgeois. They each own tasteful country piles. Mason’s Wiltshire pad previously belonged to Camilla Parker Bowles. Gilmour’s farm in West Sussex is one of the most substantial spreads in what is informally known as “the rockbroker belt” — near Keith Richards’s infamous old haunt of Redlands. Waters’ main residence is in one of America’s toniest addresses, the Hamptons on Long Island.
The yachtsman Rick Wright wasn’t the only Floyder to favour posh pastimes. Mason loves collecting and racing vintage sports cars — his Ferrari GTO is his pride and joy — and most days he runs a company, Ten Tenths, that rents them out to film-makers. Waters spends much of his spare time over here shooting pheasant in the Welsh borders and deerstalking in Scotland. Gilmour is often seen out and about at London book launches with his wife, the former Sunday Times journalist Polly Samson.
The chances that these wealthy musicians of leisure will join forces again under the Pink Floyd banner seem remote for three reasons. First they are, as Mason says, demonstrably unbribable. “Bob Geldof and a good cause could make it happen whereas $250m couldn’t.” Then there are the musical differences, which were glimpsed in the rehearsals for Live 8. “At this point, to get Roger and David to play each other’s songs,” says Mason, “is unspeakably difficult.”
Finally, and decisively, there is the implacable hostility of David Gilmour to a plan that now enjoys the full support of Roger Waters. Having spent years denigrating the contributions of his old bandmates, Waters is now a born-again team player. “David doesn’t get how important the symbiosis between us was,” he commented recently.
A close associate of Gilmour’s takes a different view. “David has spent half his life fighting over Pink Floyd. Nothing will ever make him go back there.”

New article about the ongoing snubbing of Rush & the proggers in the Rock Hall

The ongoing snubbing of Rush being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has started to become an annual tradition that's only gaining steam and raising more and more eyebrows.

Clearly the band should be in there.

This is not to give credibility to the Rock Hall, because it has very little to begin with...but when you see other inductees ~ who were influenced by Rush ~ raising questions again and again on why they're not in there, you really start to wonder.

Here's an interesting article on this subject from MSNBC.

Why the Rock Hall says: No Rush for you!

Prog rock gets ignored by the selection committee every year

By Tony Sclafani

msnbc.com contributor

updated 3:50 p.m. PT, Mon., March. 30, 2009

When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame holds its annual induction ceremony April 4, there once again won’t be any progressive rock artists amongst its five honorees. The Rock Hall’s snubbing of the once-popular genre hasn’t gone unnoticed by its supporters.

In the past few years, fans of Yes and the Moody Blues have started online petitions to get those groups a nod. Blogs and Web sites question the Hall’s choices, as did Stephen Colbert when he interviewed Rush (who also have a campaign petition).

Decades ago, these groups packed thousands into stadiums and sold tons of vinyl by pushing the boundaries of rock. But evidence suggests their elaborate concept albums, impeccable musicianship and oblique lyrics might have pushed things too far for the Hall’s tastemakers.

The Hall began honoring performers in 1986, starting with pioneers like Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Elvis Presley. More recently, pop acts like Billy Joel, the Bee Gees and Madonna have made the cut, but Rush, Yes, the Moody Blues, Jethro Tull, the Electric Light Orchestra, Genesis, Emerson, Lake and Palmer and Soft Machine have not. Beyond Pink Floyd, the closest the Hall gets to prog is Queen (who flirted with the genre) and Police drummer Stuart Copeland, who played in Curved Air.

Prog rock (as it’s colloquially known) will especially be conspicuous in its absence at this year’s induction. Jeff Beck was already inducted with the Yardbirds (the Rock Hall has honored over a dozen musicians twice), while Little Anthony and Bobby Womack are artists with limited influence. Metallica and Run-DMC have leapfrogged over the classic prog bands with their nominations, since members of both groups were still in school when progressive rock ruled.

The nomination situation
So who picked Run-DMC over Rush? Well, it’s a secret. Sort of.

According to Joel Peresman, president and CEO of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation, Inc., the initial selections are made by a committee of 30 to 35 music business people — who Peresman won’t name (although Fox News purportedly revealed a few names in 2007).

Peresman does say, though, that the committee is made up of people from all different parts of the business: “There’s musicians, there’s writers, there’s critics, there’s people from the live end, (there’s) managers. (There’s) a wide selection of people who have all been selected because we feel that they have a good, solid connection to a wide variety of music. Everybody knows a lot about different things, which is what the idea is.”

When that committee gets together every September, all the members submit the names of three potential inductees. They then have to defend their choices, Peresman explains.

“It’s not really that this one sold this many albums or this many tickets,” explains Peresman. “It’s really ‘What’s the significance of that artist? And why should they be inducted?’”

After a lot of discussion, committee members take a vote and pick the top 20 favored artists. That list is then trimmed to nine — the names that get announced each year as nominees. From there the list gets sent out to a much larger group, which Peresman says is made up of “around 500 to 600 people,” including “past inductees and other people within the music business.” Their top five choices are the artists who are ultimately inducted.

Monster issues and critics
Rock critics, who comprise a portion of the nominating committee, have historically held prog rock in low regard, as Chicago Sun-Times music critic and author Jim DeRogatis noted in a 1998 Guitar World essay. Critics used to complain that prog’s grand-scale flourishes and European influences were too far removed from early rock ’n’ roll’s immediacy. But as DeRogatis presciently notes, prog is now ignored instead of insulted.

That seems to be what’s happening with the Rock Hall. Have they noticed?

“That’s something that’s actually been addressed, especially at this past meeting,” Peresman admits. “We look at things and see where there are some areas that we feel were kind of blighted — things that should be addressed. Last year was the first year that they did something different. They actually created some subcommittees within the major committee to say ‘Come up with a recommendation of a progressive act. Come up with a recommendation of some of the older R&B groups.’

“Besides Pink Floyd, we really don’t have much (progressive rock) in the Hall of Fame,” Peresman continues. “We realize that. And we’re taking a look to try and address some of those holes that we have in our place. So we just have to take a look at are we doing something right, wrong or indifferent.”

The Rock Hall’s very first choices for inductees sent the message that they wanted to set the record straight about rock ’n’ roll; specifically, that it was a genre shaped and founded by African-American artists. But now the Hall is creating its own misconceptions about what rock evolved into, suggests Scott Rowley, the editor of the U.K.-based magazine Classic Rock.

Click for related content

Vote: Do bands like Rush belong in the Rock Hall?

“Rush and Yes and ELO are as good and as loved and as worthy as most of the acts in the Hall,” noted Rowley via e-mail. “I think it’s very damaging to the Hall of Fame’s credibility to continually ignore bands that they perceive to be on ‘the fringes,’ whether they’re prog, punk or metal acts. It makes you wonder if the selection committee is actually run by music fans.

“We’re at a weird place in rock history where things aren’t as compartmentalized as they used to be — where people used to define themselves as mods or rockers or punks or metalheads. Nowadays people have access to everything and pick what they like. The idea of ‘a canon of rock music’ — established and defined by a musical elite — seems more and more ridiculous and untenable.”

Tony Sclafani is a regular MSNBC contributor and would nominate ELO and founder Roy Wood to the Rock Hall, if asked.

© 2009 msnbc.com. Reprints

A discussion with Geddy Lee about "Retrospective 3"

Rush fans out there are probably aware that Retrospective 3, the band's Atlantic era compilation, came out earlier this week.

The tracks on the CD; ranging from 1989's Presto to the latest studio offering, 2007's Snakes & Arrows, are shuffled and intended to play as its own CD. For that, I give it high marks. Those who pick up the double disc set with the DVD, however, are in for a real treat.

On the DVD, you get all their Atlantic-era videos, some of which are dated and others that are nothing too spectacular...however, DON'T MISS the video of "Malignant Narcissism," a TOTAL mind bender. There's also clips of the band on The Colbert Report, where the host interviews all three members of Rush with amusing questions, and they perform "Tom Sawyer" on the show (but not free of the host's musings, of course).

Here's an interesting interview with Geddy Lee on Jim Ladd's show (scroll down a bit) discussing Retrospective 3...it's pretty funny and has all sorts of anecdotes and new information...and you might, uh, learn something about Margaret Cho you never wanted to know.

"Malignant Narcissism" video from Retrospective 3 DVD

For those of you who enjoy a good brainmelter, this should blow your hair back. Awesome, awesome stuff!

I can't figure out if the band put this together, or if this was from a fan on you tube and the band adopted it for their Retrospective 3 DVD set. I'd be curious to know more about the creation of it; I'll try to dig around when I have a chance.

I guess you might call this a lyrical analysis of sorts without actual lyrics...maybe a first of its kind in that regard? Anyway, enjoy it.

THE REVIEW CORNER -- Rush: Counterparts (1993, Atlantic)

I'm way overdue for a review of a Rush CD...so here we go.

When I think of Rush in the 90s, I keep coming back to Counterparts. I find it to be their best work of that decade by a long shot...and there's several reasons why, which I'll get to in a minute.

I want to talk more about what influenced Rush to make Counterparts the way they did, rather than breaking down the songs on it.

Yes, I will touch on the tunes, but only briefly...go here to Amazon to read music reviews there if you want in-depth reviews of each song.

To fully understand the creation of Counterparts, it's helpful to know how the band built up to this project, and the world of music that was around them at the time. It lends weight to this fantastic album in the band's massive cannon.

When I refer to "90s Rush," four of the band's Atlantic era studio albums come to mind: Presto (1989), Roll the Bones (1991), Counterparts (1993) and Test for Echo (1996)...and, of course, those four studio albums were capped off by the band's 4th live album, Different Stages (1998), for which this blog is named. That ended the 4th (and last) cycle in which the band would follow four studio albums with a live project.

Even though Presto technically came out in November of 1989 (the day I turned 21, actually...and a happy birthday it was...I was ecstatic, actually...woohoo!), it's still very much a work of the early 90s and the first baby of the band's gradual return to an edgier sound (and the band toured on it in 1990, so songs from it evolved onstage that year).

While the 80s produced some incredible work from the band and served as a period where the band advanced its songwriting ~ rather than concentrating on chops, like it did in the 70s ~ the decade involved an unconscionable Omaha Beach caliber attack of synthesizers. While much of it added substance to the music, much of it is very dated...actually, it was dated even back then, LOL.

Presto marked the band's slow (and sometimes painful) return to guitar-driven rock. After all, you have one of the most dynamic and talented rock guitarists, instrumental songwriters, and live performers of all time in the band, Alex Lifeson...uh, it might be a good idea to unleash him a little more. It's widely agreed in Rush circles that the crunch of Alex's guitar was stifled by the 80s synth period...it doesn't take much listening to Presto's two studio predecessors, Power Windows and Hold Your Fire, to figure that out.

While 1991's Roll the Bones built on the new pattern of edgier guitar work started by Presto, it meandered a bit; featured a modest comeback with instrumental work, and even experimented with a little rap...but the band would soon get a BIG push in the direction of edgier music. After inspiring and mentoring countless younger bands, a music scene ~ and a new bass player on the scene ~ would inspire Rush and the band's evolution.

The advent of grunge and the Seattle Sound in 1991-92 would lay the groundwork for Counterparts. It was merely weeks after the release of Roll the Bones that Nevermind, Nirvana's classic, hit the airwaves. By 1992 the grunge scene was literally evolving week to week, and sky-rocketing with bands like Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Nirvana at the helm while Rush was on tour that year. Edgier alternative bands such as Smashing Pumpkins and Green Day, which essentially provided an advanced version of punk rock, were also tearing up the scene.

While this new music revolution out of Seattle caught the eye of Geddy, Alex and Neil ~ giving them ideas for the material in their next project ~ it's their opening band in 1991-92 that would prove to have equal if not more significant influence on several levels.

The opening band on the Roll the Bones tour, Primus, was out of the Bay Area and featured singer /bass player Les Claypool. While Primus was known for its silly onstage antics, goofy song themes, and album names like Sailing the Seas of Cheese and Pork Soda helped to loosen up the members of Rush on tour, it was Claypool's bass acrobatics that would inspire Geddy Lee (already a member of the bass hall of fame years before that time, if there's such a thing).

The thick trunk of Primus' sound is Claypool's dynamic bass work, which can only be described as a brainmelter. He experiments with many different methods on the instument, notably chord work, which by 1991 wasn't very widely utilized or known in the rock world. While Geddy had noodled around with bass chords and voiced them live onstage (see "By-Tor and the Snow Dog" on the Exit...Stage Left DVD), he hadn't explored them to the level of Claypool's experimentation.

Claypool's influence revolutionized Geddy Lee's approach to the bass. He was now attacking the instrument with more fervor, and getting more into bass chord voicings. Further study of the styles used by both bass players will reveal Claypool's "herky jerky" approach, while Ged tends to exhibit a smoother style that floats like a knife through butter ~ even when he advances his methodology to the bass like he did in 1991-92.

While Ged's bass work represents only one of several dynamic compononts in Rush, it can be argued that it was the driving force behind the edgier approach to the Counterparts sessions when they began. Recalling reading in music magazines at the time, Alex also came into the sessions with grunge CDs such as Dirt by Alice in Chains in his CD player; so he was ready for a more aggresive approach too.

The Counterparts sessions began like most other Rush projects, with Ged & Al jamming about on guitar and bass. This set them on track with songs such as "Stick it Out," "Animate" (the project's high-on-speed, opening assault), and "Cut to the Chase." Legend has it that Lifeson "banned" synthesizers from entering the studio, which caused some heated disagreements between he and Lee, and even some hot tempers, if recollections from my research at the time are accurate...but never fear, the band isn't breaking up, these guys are lifelong pals...so eventually they found some compromise, which I'll get to in a minute.

So the sessions continued in the manner they usually do with Rush, which the band had down like clockwork since this was their 15th studio project. Al & Ged jammed, wrote and experimented, Ged did some arranging while Al probably took a nap, drummer /lyricist Neil Peart soon came in with his contributions, everyone collaborated in polishing off the songwriting, then the album was recorded...and before long we had a CD that clocked in 11 tracks and about an hour's worth of music. Yep, that's how it happened in one short paragraph.

While the crown jewels of Counterparts are widely regarded to be "Animate" and "Nobody's Hero," the CD also contains some hidden gems; some of the most experimental music Rush put out between 1982's Signals and 2007's Snakes & Arrows.

Four "lost gems" come to mind from Counterparts, which are "Between Sun & Moon," "Alien Shore," "Double Agent," and "Leave that Thing Alone."

"Between Sun & Moon" finds Alex tweaking his sound to echo something one might expect from the likes of Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits. It also features interesting voicings from Geddy's singing, which seem to replace what would have been keyboards/synthesizers on an earlier project. It seems the band had found a way to keep everyone happy as the band continued on a track toward a less synth-driven, edgier rock sound.

"Alien Shore," from a lyrical standpoint, is arguably be the most sophisticated love song ever written. It also highlights the bass playing advancements of Ged, featuring one of the greatest bass solos in the history of recorded music. The solo does an excellent job of bringing out the influences and enhanced chops that Ged perfected prior to the Counterparts sessions...and when one considers that he's singing while doing it, it comes off as even more impressive.

"Double Agent" is the most interesting and experimental track on Counterparts, and to the delight of fans was performed live on the tour in 1993-94. In a successful attempt to articulate a dream sequence, Ged speaks poetry intermittent with singing lines to capture the essence of a mystical state of mind.

"Leave that Thing Alone" is the dark horse of Counterparts, and winds its way from soaring guitar motifs to almost amusing passages that sound like something out of a spy movie (I don't know if that's what the band intended, but that's how many fans interpreted it). "Leave That Thing Alone" is one of a handful of instrumentals in the band's catalog, and was on par with old instrumental classics "La Villa Strangiato" from Hemispheres (1978) and "YYZ" from Moving Pictures (1981) before "The Main Monkey Business," "Hope," and "Malignant Narcissism" appeared on Snakes & Arrows (2007) in a most shocking 1-2-3 punch.

Unique within the many studio works of Rush, this project thematically approached the issue of love and human relationships...so you get a few "love songs," if you will (Rush style, of course) on Counterparts. Just be warned, this is a little different from the love song styles of Sinatra, Perry Como, and Celine Dion.

Initally one wouldn't think "love song" themes wouldn't jive with Rush's sound, but the formula produces surprising and often very satisfying results on the second half of the disc in tunes such as "Alien Shore," "The Speed of Love," and "Cold Fire".

The project's closer, "Everyday Glory," boasts some Peart's most passionate and inspiring lyric writing to date, and he's almost prophetic...remember this was 1993:

"If the future's looking dark,
we're the ones who have to shine.
If there's no one in control,
we're the ones who draw the line.
Though we know we live in trying times,
we're the ones who have to try.
Though we know that time has wings,
we're the ones who have to fly."


So, that's it...that's Counterparts for you...definitely worth your time and money if you're not familiar with it. It's the stongest effort by Rush from the 1990s, and unleashes great songwriting with top-notch chops from the beginning to the very last track.

I know...I know...METAL hasn't been represented here

Metal, in it's many forms and splendor, hasn't been represented on this blog.

Sorry to those metal fans out there. Maybe that will change and we can spice things up a bit around here soon.

If you can forgive me, it's been lost a bit for a combination of reasons. First, when it comes to the ballpark if you will of hard rock and heavy metal, I tend to gravitate toward the bands I really like.

While some of the bands I've covered ~ such as Rush and Porcupine Tree ~ can be interpreted as a sort of metal (some of those bands which appear in that metal documentary I mentioned some time back), I realize in the eyes of a true metal fan it's seen as something different, and that Rush, for example, probably doesn't qualify.

My other excuse would be that when I'm not talking about my favorite bands, my mind is occupied with other genres of music such as jazz, classical, blues, opera, etc.

What can I say, I like variety. I see variety as a good thing in that my life has become richer as a result.

Also, you never know...you could be a hardcore metal fan, and not realize that a jazz nut lies within...only because you haven't tried it yet!

While I have some knowledge of the big metal bands over the ages, there's definitely some folks out there who are more well-versed than I am. I'll try to feature it a bit more here.

The Jagger-Richards songwriting team

If you know anything about the musical philosophies of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, a.k.a. the "Glimmer Twins" and the songwriting team behind the Rolling Stones, you might be amazed the band has lasted as long as it has.

It certainly hasn't been without some turmoil...but then again, no long-lasting songwriting team has smooth sailing 100% of the time.

In the early 1960s, the Rolling Stones were born out of American musical styles such as R&B and traditional delta blues. Their influences originate in American artists such as Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, and Chuck Berry, to name a few. They are graduate students of that genre of music, to say the least. The very name of the band was founded on a line from an song by one of those artists in the 1950s.

However, as time passed and the 1970s emerged, Jagger had the philosophy that the Stones needed to evolve and change with the times. It's Mick's direction that prompted the progress of the band into directions in the vein of "Dance Little Sister" from 1974's It's Only Rock and Roll, and "Miss You" from 1978's Some Girls.

Richard's philosophy was always more oriented in traditional blues, as he was less adventurous about noodling with the classic Rolling Stones sound that had ingrained itself in classic rock by the 1970s...songs that come to mind that are of the Richards forte might be things like "Sway" from 1971's Sticky Fingers and "Ventilator Blues" from 1972's Exile on Main St.

As the Stones entered the 1980s, these differences in musical philosophy -- in addition to a different philosophy of how to spend their time in their personal lives -- began to create a deepening rift between the two. As a result, the quality of output from the Stones in that decade suffered greatly...it got so bad that nearly all the material from 1986's Dirty Work was written independently, and even in some cases vocals and guitars were recorded in separate studios.

The results of this discombobulated approach reflected in the music, and the Stones essentially ceased for some time to be a living, breathing entity as they didn't tour for the better part of eight years.

Such a lack of exposure would normally mean certain death to most rock bands -- but hey, these are the Stones.

Luckily, Jagger and Richards realized that the results from working together was greater than the sum of its parts; so they had a reconciliation by the end of the 80s. By compromising on the makeup of songs on albums, agreeing to disagree, and utilizing their individual strengths, the band flourished once again. There is also no denying the mutual respect the two have formed for each other over the years as artists and friends.

While the material from the band since 1989's Steel Wheels has never really been up to par with their classic material from the 1960s and 70s, it has certainly produced some gems in their massive cannon and has given Stones fans plenty to chew on in the last 20-some years.

Hopefully we'll get a little more from this timeless and legendary songwriting team before their flame goes out.

Rush's Alex Lifeson on the new Snakes & Arrows Live DVD

Alex Lifeson doing his thing at the 2003 SARS Festival in Toronto

You may recall a prior post recently involving a lengthy interview with the guitarist of Rush...well here's another interview with Alex Lifeson.

While it's over a week old (came out on 12/11), Big Al always gives an interesting and insightful interview.

This is the work of Greg Prato at UGO Music Blog.

It’s no secret that over the years Rush has had its fair share of detractors - namely, in the music press. But the veteran Canadian group - which has long consisted of singer/bassist Geddy Lee, guitarist Alex Lifeson, and drummer/lyricist Neil Peart - certainly has gotten the last laugh, as they are still scoring hit albums and selling out arenas worldwide, nearly 35 years after the release of their self-titled debut. Recently, Rush has issued their latest live DVD, Snakes & Arrows Live, which chronicles a pair of sold-out shows at the Ahoy Arena in Rotterdam, Netherlands, on October 16 and 17, 2007, and features a heaping helping of classics, album cuts not played in eons, and newer material. Lifeson recently gave UGO the scoop about the DVD, as well as Rush’s future plans.

Let’s start with the new DVD, Snakes & Arrows Live...

Alex Lifeson: Well, towards the end of the [2007 European] tour, in Rotterdam, we had two days there - we had a day off before and a day off after. So it allowed us to get in on a set-up date, and having the second date, gave us the opportunity to get some really cool long shots and crowd shots. I think we had a fourteen-camera set-up - shot all in HD. It sounds really, really good. It’s funny with us - we always wait until the last minute to do these things, and I don’t know why we do that. We would probably be better off to think about doing something earlier in the tour. But it always turns out this way. Actually, one of the advantages is we’re pretty confident with our playing and the set feels pretty good. We’re quite pleased with it.

Why didn’t the DVD come out at the same time as the Snakes & Arrows CD (which was released in April)?

Alex Lifeson: The CD came out just prior to us going back out on the road - it gave us a little boost I think, in terms of making everybody aware that we were going back out for the second half of the tour. But these things take a while. To do the 5.1 mix is always time-consuming. So, we were able to get a stereo mix out quite easily.

 
How would you say that particular tour compared to others - as far as the band’s playing?

Alex Lifeson: I think we played the best we’ve ever played. As we get older - as we “mature” - there is a newfound confidence in our playing and the way we approach what we do. I thought we were really settled night-to-night - tempos were very consistent throughout the whole tour. You’re always making little improvements sonically. And there was a really good crispness and clarity to the sound - both out in the house as well as in internally in our monitors. And that always gets you playing a lot better. It was really night-to-night very settled - not often do I feel that way, or any of us feel that way. You come off a tour, and you figure you’ve done a dozen shows where you feel you played really well. This was night-to-night - we felt really confident and really good about the shows.

What about standout memories of that particular performance that night in Rotterdam?

Alex Lifeson: It was a very relaxed night - which is unusual, for that kind of “pressure” night. Whenever we’re recording, there’s always a sense of tension on stage. But we were really relaxed that night, and I think it was because we had the two nights. We were in the European portion - halfway through it - and we really enjoy traveling through Europe, so we were all in a pretty good headspace and relaxed. And I think it shows - there are moments throughout the DVD where there is interplay between the three of us and the audience - and you sense that we’re having fun.

 
Over the past few tours, Rush has brought back songs that have rarely been played live. How was it playing songs such as “Digital Man,” “Entre Nous,” and “Mission” again?

Alex Lifeson: It was fantastic. To play those songs that we hadn’t played before - or in a long time - was really nice. And the reaction from the crowd was great. I think Rush fans really enjoyed hearing some of those things that you don’t normally hear. On the second half of the tour, we switched things around a little bit and brought in some other ones - “Ghost of a Chance,” for example, and that exists on the DVD, as well. It’s almost like a bootleg session on the DVD, so there’s a nice variety there. And then all the “comedy stuff” that we try to do between the songs and at the opening and closing of the show is really fun, and there are some outtakes from those film sessions. It gives a whole different perspective on us and the individuals in the band.

Any obscure songs that you’d like to see make their way into the set in the future?

Alex Lifeson: I’m always toying with that idea - of really doing a tour, or a set, of more obscure stuff. Kind of stay away from “Tom Sawyer” and “The Spirit of Radio,” and explore some more obscure songs. I think the thing with us is, it’s “An Evening With,” and these are Rush fans that are there to see us play, and I think we can play just about anything we’ve written, and it would be accepted and there would be great interested in it. It would be really great to play those songs - for us to go on tour and play material that we haven’t played in 20 or 30 years...or ever. It would be a different tour, and something I hope we’ll consider seriously. It would be really interesting for us, I think. Playing “Ghost of a Chance” live, I felt like the song was reborn. There was a power, intensity, and dynamics to the song, that don’t come across quite the same as the recorded version. And when you play it now - or any of these older songs - we attack it differently. It’s kind of cool.

Looking back on the early years, I’ve read that Rush toured with Kiss in 1975.

Alex Lifeson: That was our first kind of “big tour.” We had started touring in ‘74 - we were opening for a few different bands. But the Kiss tour...and this was the start of their career, as well. The tour that we did with them, we opened for them, and we were playing 3,000-5,000 seat halls. They were a new band, and no one had really heard of them. So we did a lot of work with them - we probably toured with them for 60 or 70 shows. Back in those days, we were doing 200 to 250 shows a year anyways. But we toured with them over a fairly long period of time. We were very close and we had a lot of fun. We were both young bands, and quite different from each other - I think that was a nice compliment playing together. But like a lot of things, you sort of drift apart over the years. We stayed in touch for a while, but not so much in the past ten years or so.

Any specific memories of that tour?

Alex Lifeson: It was always a crazy scene at the end of tours - they’d plaster us with cream pies, there was always some sort of surprise lurking around a corner! And certainly, there were some fun nights - parties and things like that. They lived a little more of a “rock n’ roll lifestyle” than we did.

Big Al with a favorite axe

I’ve noticed in recent years, you’ve made the jump back to Gibson guitars - what prompted that switch?

Alex Lifeson: I just felt like a change, to be honest - it came down to that. I didn’t have any problem with what I was using - I was using primarily Paul Reed Smith guitars before - and I’ve always said that I love those guitars, they’re so beautifully built. But there’s something about a Les Paul in particular that’s so classic and traditional. I just felt that I wanted to go back to that place. I started working with Gibson, and they were very open and helpful - in developing the things I wanted, and worked very closely with Pat Foley at Gibson. I’ve been very happy with that relationship. We’ve been working on some models that have been inspired that some of the guitars that I have and some of the needs that I have. So it’s been a pretty good relationship with them of late.

I’ve also heard that you’re a big fan of the TV show ‘Family Guy.’ Is this true, and which other shows are your favorites?

Alex Lifeson: Oh, everybody watches ‘Family Guy’! It’s become so popular. What else do I watch… jeez, my wife and I started watching ‘Boston Legal’ for some reason - the first season, and really liked the writing. So we got the whole series and we’ve been watching it. ‘Dexter’ I enjoy quite a bit. I just got a Blu-ray player, so I’m building up my collection of Blu-ray discs, and watching a lot of that stuff. I got that ‘Planet Earth’ series - it’s just so stunning! And I got a series on dinosaurs that I watch with my grandson. ‘When We Left Earth,’ some IMAX stuff.

Recently, Rolling Stone featured the band in its magazine - how does it feel to be embraced all these years later by magazines and media that were once not so kind to the band?

Alex Lifeson: That’s nice, it’s a nice compliment. It was nice to do the interview for that - the writer was really a very pleasant guy and smart. We spent the better part of a week during rehearsals, and Chris [Norris] got into different aspects of our lives - I thought he did quite a good job. We didn’t have a very good relationship with Rolling Stone for a long time, so it was nice to be over that, and we couldn’t even remember why it was like that in the first place. Maybe it’s because we’ve been around for as long as we’ve been, and we’re still at it, and we like to think of ourselves as a “vital” kind of a band. We don’t do these nostalgia tours - there’s nothing wrong with that, but that’s not for us. I think begrudgingly, a lot of these non-supporters give us a little bit of respect for sticking around for so long.

 
What are Rush’s future plans? A new studio album?

Alex Lifeson: We finished the tour in July, and we were exhausted. We had been working hard for the last seven or eight years - I think we’d done four tours, four albums, and a bunch of DVD’s. Constantly working. And we all just need to get away from it. So our plan for the next year is to not even think about the band. And then jump into it fresh. I mean, there’s a bunch of stuff that we have coming out - the DVD, and we were part of a film called ‘I Love You, Man,’ that is coming out in the new year. A couple of other film things. There’s lots to keep us “plugged in” for the next little while, but we just want to clear our minds of the whole business for a little bit, and jump into it with a renewed energy. Maybe not this late next year, but sometime in the fall of next year, I think we’ll get together. Having said that, Ged and I have this habit of getting together sooner than later, and casually starting to do some work. So if we get bored in the new year, we might advance that schedule a little bit. But right now, we’re thinking about next fall.

FROM THE VAULT -- Taking Sandler's "Ode to My Car" for a new spin

Back in 1996-97, this Adam Sandler tune "Ode to My Car" (off the album What the Hell Happened to Me?) was all over the radio.

For those of you who are big Sandler fans or were paying attention at the time, you might recall the song came in a few versions. There was the uncensored version on the CD, then there was a version with standard bleeps, which can be found on a CD single (long out of print, I believe)...then there was the version common on the radio -- which I consider the best -- where the bleeps are in the form of an "orchestra" of car horns.

Apart from an Adam Sandler SNL greatest hits video that's floating around out there, I'd argue What the Hell Happened to Me? is his best work. I have the CD with the uncensored version.

I've been unsuccessful in finding a CD version of "Ode to My Car" with the car horn bleeps, until I thought of looking it up on the tube, and voila! I still get a laugh out of this...and the video, seen below, gives some added interest.

THE STAGE HECKLER: Milan's Teatro La Scala was a fitting introduction to opera

2006 was a big year for travel, and part of it involved venturing across the pond to Italy.

While Milan, in northern Italy, represented the gateway in and out of the country; research and advisement revealed that it didn't provide much in the way of tourist attractions...at least not like the other places Italy is known for.

As a matter of fact, Milan was considered rather unfriendly to tourists, as experience would also reveal.

However, like everything else in life, there are exceptions to that notion. While there weren't many attractions in the nation's financial capital, there was still a beautiful Cathedral (the third largest in Europe), the Arcadia (touted as the world's first indoor mall), and a fresco many of you might have heard of called The Last Supper.

Then, last but not least, there was the La Scala opera house.

While I'd studied up on a small degree of opera, I had never witnessed one live...so why not start with one -- if not THE -- most revered opera house in the world?

Hey, why not. We're here, aren't we?

La Scala was more about the history and the facility than the opera of that evening; it was about admiring a classic locale that countless operas had been performed in for literally hundreds of years.

The performance that night had lots of variety -- although I couldn't tell you a single word that was sung, as it was all in Italian, of course. The choice that evening was Dido and Aeneas, which blended together a creative balance of singing, acting, and ballet. It had a little bit of everything, which provided a colorful smorgasbord for newbies (yes, my hand is raised).

Our tickets were at the top row, waaaaaaaaaaay in the back, and definitely NOT on the railing, as the view was a bit obstructed. This wasn't like the upper deck of Yankee Stadium, this was the view from the circling blimp above the ballpark (hey, at least we weren't in the HORRIFIC BLIMP SHADOW...uh, inside joke). Needless to say, the quality of sight lines didn't seem to be on the minds of opera house architects and designers hundreds of years ago; at least not for the pobrecitos in the upper deck.

Nevertheless, the opera was enjoyable despite the fact that the story was difficult to follow (I'm not exactly up on my Italian, let alone understanding it while sung at a high octave). The idea of the story was more or less followed through the dancing and acting, which was very interesting and a feast for the eyes.

When the final act ended and the actors/singers took their final bows, I snuck up to the balcony and got a few shots of the massive chandelier that hung down from the high ceiling (see photo above).

I'll leave you with a rather comprehesive history on La Scala, courtesy of wikipedia...come on, get cultured, peeps! You'll learn something new today...and if you're here already, do you really have anything better to do with your time?:

Teatro La Scala

The Teatro alla Scala (or La Scala, as it is known), in Milan, Italy, is one of the world's most famous opera houses. The theatre was inaugurated on 3 August 1778, under the name Nuovo Regio Ducal Teatro alla Scala with Salieri's Europa riconosciuta. La Scala's season traditionally opens on 7 December, Saint Ambrose's Day, the feast day of Milan's patron saint. All performances must end before midnight; long operas start earlier in the evening if need be. Ticketholders are not allowed to enter after the performance has begun.

The La Scala Museum (Museo Teatrale alla Scala), accessible from the theatre's foyer and a part of the house, contains an extraordinary collection of paintings, drafts, statues, costumes, and other documents regarding opera and La Scala's history.

La Scala also hosts the Accademia d’Arti e Mestieri dello Spettacolo (Academy for the Performing Arts). Its goal is to train a new generation of young musicians, technical staff, and dancers (at the Scuola di Ballo del Teatro alla Scala, one of the Academy's divisions).

History

A fire destroyed the previous theatre, the ancient Teatro Ducale, on 25 February 1776, after a carnival gala. A group of ninety wealthy Milanese, who owned palchi (private boxes) in the theatre, wrote to Archduke Ferdinand I of Austria asking for a new theatre and a provisional one to be used while completing the new one. The neoclassical architect Giuseppe Piermarini produced an initial design but it was rejected by Count Firmian (the governor of the then Austrian Lombardy).

A second plan was accepted in 1776 by Empress Maria Theresa. The new theatre was built on the former location of the church of Santa Maria della Scala, from which the theatre gets its name. The church was deconsecrated and demolished, and over a period of two years the theatre was completed by Pietro Marliani, Pietro Nosetti and Antonio and Giuseppe Fe. This theatre had a total over 3,000 seats organized into 678 pit-stalls, arranged in six tiers of boxes above which is the 'loggione' or two galleries. Now the stage is one of the largest in Italy (16.15m d x 20.4m w x 26m h).

Building expenses were covered by the sale of palchi, which were lavishly decorated by their owners, impressing observers such as Stendhal. La Scala (as it soon became to be known) soon became the preeminent meeting place for noble and wealthy Milanese people. In the tradition of the times, the platea (the main floor) had no chairs and spectators watched the shows standing up. The orchestra was in full sight, as the golfo mistico (orchestra pit) had not yet been built.

Above the boxes, La Scala has always had a gallery where the less wealthy can watch the performances. It is called the loggione. The loggione is typically crowded with the most critical opera aficionados, who can be ecstatic or merciless towards singers' perceived successes or failures. La Scala's loggione is considered a baptism of fire in the opera world, and fiascos are long remembered. (One recent incident occurred in 2006 when tenor Roberto Alagna was booed off the stage during a performance of Aïda, forcing an understudy to replace him mid-scene wearing street clothes.) As with most of the theaters at that time, La Scala was also a casino, with gamblers sitting in the foyer.

La Scala was originally illuminated with eighty-four oil lamps mounted on the palcoscenico and another thousand in the rest of theater. To prevent the risks of fire, several rooms were filled with hundreds of water buckets. In time, oil lamps were replaced by gas lamps, these in turn were replaced by electric lights in 1883.

The original structure was renovated in 1907, when it was given its current layout with 2,800 seats. In 1943, during WWII, La Scala was severely damaged by bombing. It was rebuilt and reopened on 11 May 1946, with a memorable concert conducted by Arturo Toscanini, with a soprano solo by Renata Tebaldi, which created a sensation.

La Scala hosted the prima (first production) of many famous operas, and had a special relationship with Giuseppe Verdi. For several years, however, Verdi did not allow his work to be played here, as some of his music had been modified (he said "corrupted") by the orchestra. This dispute originated in a disagreement over the production of his Giovanna d'Arco in 1845; however the composer later conducted his Requiem there on 25 May 1874, and in 1886 announced that La Scala would host the premiere of his opera Otello.^[1] The premiere of his last opera, Falstaff was also given in the theatre.

In 1982, the Filarmonica della Scala was established, drawing its members from the larger pool of musicians that comprise the Orchestra della Scala.

Major rennovation 2002-2004

Following the traditional 7 December 2001 season opening performances of Otello, which ran through December, the theatre was closed for renovation^[2] and, from 19 January 2002 to November 2004, the opera company was transferred to the new Teatro degli Arcimboldi, built in the Pirelli-Bicocca industrial area 4.5 miles from the city centre.

The renovation by the renowned architect Mario Botta proved controversial, as preservationists feared that historic details would be lost; however, the opera company was said to be impressed with improvements to the structure and the sound quality, which was enhanced when the heavy red carpets in the hall were removed. The stage was entirely re-constructed, and an enlarged backstage will allow more sets to be stored, permitting more productions, and the seats now include monitors for the electronic libretto system, allowing audiences to follow opera libretti in English and Italian in addition to the original language.

Conducted by Riccardo Muti, the opera house re-opened on 7 December 2004 with a production of Salieri's Europa riconosciuta, the opera which was performed at La Scala's inauguration in 1778. ^[3]. Tickets for the re-opening fetched up to €2,000. The renovations cost a reported €61 million, and left a budget shortfall that the opera house did not overcome until 2006.^[4]

Rush has beer named after them...NOT KIDDING.

Hey. Don't ask me how I find out about this stuff.

The Flat Earth Brewing Company out of Minnesota has their dark porter beer in tribute to Rush, and has named it the Cygnus X-1, after the last track from their 1977 prog masterpiece A Farewell to Kings.

It doesn't end there.

Apparently there's a beer tasting on the brewery calendar that involves a half dozen or so versions of beers named after Rush-isms.

Engine room, where is my drink.

See the site rushisaband.com for details:

Earlier this year I'd mentioned the Flat Earth Brewing Company in Saint Paul Minnesota because they feature a Cyngnus-X1 Porter as a tribute to their favorite band - Rush. For the month of December, they are holding their Porterfest event at the brewery and featuring several additional infused versions of the their Rush inspired Porter. Here's the calendar along with the featured brews:

* 12/4 - Hold Your Fire Porter - Spice & Ancho Pepper infused Porter
* 12/11 - Mystic Rhythms Porter - Raspberry infused Porter
* 12/18 - Freewill Porter - Vanilla infused Porter
* 12/23 - Snow Dog Porter - Peppermint infused Porter
* 12/31 - Big Money Porter - Wood aged Porter