Like any red blooded Canuck buck, I'm a big Rush fan.
My first TO band, Trina, was their next door neighbour at
Barry Cobus' rehearsal place in Ajax, during portions of
their late '74 to early '75 rehearsals with a still-new,
but highly exciting drummer named Neil Peart.
My first interaction with Geddy, Alex and Neil was when
I went down the hall to their big corner suite and politely
asked them to 'play a little bit quieter', because Trina
was working on a ballad named "Sail Away", and
every time we rehearsed our chorus reprise, all
we could hear was THEIR song's chorus and
instrumental section, pounding in an odd
time signature (most likely 7/4) through
the paper thin walls of Barry's place.
Seeing as I was the new guy in Trina (and a former
lifeguard at that), I was dispatched by my bandmates to
see if I could convince the Rushians to 'tone it down
a little'. I'll never forget Al, in answer to my request,
saying 'oh yeah, we'll definitely turn it down for ya'.
Of course, the moment I returned to Trina's unheated
hovel with the good news for my mates, Rush simply
picked up where they left off and drowned out any
attempt by our little assemblage to get 'all dainty'.
Trina broke up on March 15th, 1975, and our
original music never was heard from again.
Rush, on the other hand, persisted and resisted all attempts,
whether by bonehead former lifeguards, club owners,
booking agents, management and/or record company
cadavers to do any, single thing that ran counter to
THEIR vision of who they were or wanted to be.
I still consider the Rush story to be a personal life lesson.
Here's yet another astonishing piece of magic music
from one of the world's greatest ever progressive
rock bands. From their forthcoming album,
here's "Caravan" by Geddy, Al and Neil.
But first, have a glance at a few fuzzy pix,
taken during their amazing show in Hamilton.
A big, big thanks to my longtime bud,
Lorne 'Gump' Wheaton, for allowing
TJ and me to experience Rush's
awe-inspiring power and
precision - up close.
One of the most significant, for me, is the pairing up
of King Crimson (Mark II) with Jon Anderson of Yes.
Almost two years before I finally 'got' Yes, my pantheon
of musical influences had already broadened outward
from The Beatles-led British invasion and its
American imitators to a secondary wave
of international and Canadian
artists - all determined to
push the boundaries
of popular music and
challenge both themselves
and their listeners, old and new.
By the dawn of 1970, I was now firmly caught
in the imaginary grip of acts like The Moody Blues,
The Band, Sly and The Family Stone, Moby Grape,
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Led Zeppelin,
and The Doors, as well as a host of other
visionaries. like Jimi Hendrix, The
Mothers of Invention, Chicago
Transit Authority and Simon
and Garfunkel. The Beatles
were beginning their slow,
but sure disintegration,
and I was scrambling
to find something or
someone new that
would push my
mind further,
into exciting,
uncharted
musical
waters.
Enter 'Lizard', the third album by King Crimson.
Featuring Robert Fripp, Mel Collins and lyricist
Peter Sinfield, and augmented by a new cast
of band members, including precision
drummer, Andy McCulloch and
vocalist/bassist, Gordon Haskell,
Lizard's five tracks signalled a
sea change in King Crimson's
overall direction, as they began
exploring new musical vistas and
incorporated powerful jazz elements
into their ouevre, courtesy of eclectic
pianist, Keith Tippet, Nick Evans on the
trombone, Mark Charig on cornet and the
true 'master of the cor anglais', Robin Miller.
But it was the inspired inclusion of Jon Anderson
as lead vocalist on the album's opening track on
side two, "Prince Rupert Awakes", that totally
awoke my still-slumbering sensibilities, and
in doing so, created a new and significant
musical milestone for 15 year old me.
"Prince..." also set the stage for my soon-to-be,
full initiation into the still-nascent, prog
rock army, once I'd matured a little,
and had occasion to review and
revel in all things YES.
Here's the definitive "Prince Rupert Awakes",
immediately following a snapshot of me in 1970
(taken by my brother Ken, the meditator in the
photograph accompanying Classic Song 23).