Rush

I've seen a lot of shows over the years and a handful of those have been Rush shows. It's Tuesday, July 21, when I step out of arguably the sketchiest hotel I've ever seen, onto the Portland streets, and anxiously make my way towards a sold out Moda Center for show number six. Quickly, I join the middle-aged, t-shirted, kids-in-tow exodus of fans swiftly navigating their way to the promised land, arena bound. A brief beverage stop, Laurelwood's Mother Lode Golden Ale, before "finding my way" to my seat for what could be, what will likely be, my final Rush concert. It's show time.

Some things never change, and when it comes to Rush, that's not only a good thing, it's what's expected. And this night is, as expected, stellar musicianship by three of the most talented artists on the planet. All nicely complemented by the impressive sound quality, typical attention to detail, geeky sense of humor, and bar-setting performances that have become the rule rather than the exception.

It's show time. From beginning to end, or literally, from end to beginning, as the Canadian trio runs through their 40-year catalog in reverse timeline. A playlist, obviously of their choosing, giving the fans what they need, not necessarily what they want. Headlong Flight, Distant Early Warning, Red Barchetta, Jacobs Ladder, Xanadu, Lakeside Park, and Working Man being a few unexpected highlights, with a few standards, Subdivisions, Tom Sawyer, 2112, thrown in, and of course, a drum solo.

Yes, a drum solo, a Rush show wouldn't be a Rush show without a technical masterpiece from Mr. Percussionist himself, Neil Peart, sending the sold-out crowd into a collective frenzy. Not to overshadow the other wheels of this super-charged tricycle. Geddy Lee brought his epic, complicated bass lines to life with unparalleled precision and talent, equally on recent offerings (Headlong Flight) and earlier work (Cygnus X-1). Of course, all while not missing a beat on the bass pedals, keyboards, and vocals, which in 40-years haven't lost much in range and intensity. And Alex Lifeson, an underrated "working man" simply doing his job, it’s never flashy, never showy, just perfect execution, song after song, guitar after guitar.

There was no shortage of guitars as Lifeson and Lee both swapped them out frequently, as if showcasing 40 years of instruments responsible for 40 years of music. At one point, both firing through Xanadu with classic double necks on their way to a grande finale. A finale that brought our time traveling to a new set, a high-school gymnasium with a crystal ball and replica ‘75 drum kit, and to 1975s Fly By Night, and their debut, 1974s Rush.

And with that, it ended where it all began, well, sort of. I was on the streets again, The Lloyd district in the aftermath, with the midway hawkers, post-show tweakers, prostitutes and crazed pizza delivery boys, not exactly the subdivisions of Rush classics. Not exactly an easy show to wind down from either, requiring cheap beer, cigarettes, lawn chairs, and heated discussions in the hotel parking lot. Although the alternative was going to bed, and that was not an option this night, not in that hotel. But, we were momentarily in the same building with Rush, the three kings, and nothing could kill that buzz, nothing except the reality that this may be it, this may be the farewell.

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