In the world of progressive and hard rock, Rush are considered titans. As musicians, the Canadian trio — made up of vocalist and bassist Geddy Lee, guitarist Alex Lifeson and the late drum legend Neil Peart — are considered gods among mere mortals.
But while most music fans are familiar with the band’s biggest radio hits (who hasn’t nearly crashed a car while air drumming to “Tom Sawyer” or trying to hit the high notes on “Freewill”), Rush’s sprawling and dense discography can be intimidating to normies.
So, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Rush’s oft-maligned and much underrated 1975 album “Caress of Steel,” here are five also underrated tracks to blast on your headphones or on your stereo.
Please add your favourites below.
“Cinderella Man” (1977)
One of the very few Rush songs with lyrics penned by Geddy Lee, “Cinderella Man” draws its inspiration from the 1936 Gary Cooper film “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.” The film — and the song — tells the story of a small-town tuba player who unexpectedly inherits $20 million during the Great Depression. Upon attempting to share his new-found wealth among the needy and downtrodden, good Mr. Deeds is ridiculed and accused of insanity. Brightly dynamic and ultra-earnest — “Eyes wide open / Heart undefended / Innocence untarnished” — “Cinderella Man” was a divisive song even among some Rush fans. But nearly 50 years later, it stands tall as a refreshingly unironic ode to the incorruptible few who cannot be broken by the temptations of greed and injustice. There’s also a sick guitar bit of shredding from Alex Lifeson, who stomps hard on that wah-wah pedal.
“Jacob’s Ladder” (1980)
Crepuscular rays, also known as “god rays,” are the scientific term for sunbeams that break through a layer of storm clouds at twilight, creating a unique visual effect that is sometimes referred to as Jacob’s Ladder, in reference to the Biblical account of Jacob viewing angels ascending heavenward. Only Rush could write a song that captures the complex feeling that one might associate with this natural phenomenon: of beauty combined with existential longing, of scattered light offering a pathway beyond the abyss. And they do this quite literally on “Jacob’s Ladder,” a song that opens with a series of ominous, heavy metal riffs and scorching guitar solos, the song moving between time signatures as Lee’s voice descends like an oracle: “Thunderheads are rumbling / In a distant overture.” At the exact halfway point of the song, the drums drop away as the clouds part and church bells arrive, ushering in an extended outro that builds towards a triumphant crescendo: “Follow men’s eyes / As they look to the skies / The shifting shafts of shining / The shifting shafts of shining / Weave the fabric of their dreams.”
“Digital Man” (1982)
There’s no question that the best song on Rush’s album “Signals” is “Subdivisions,” a timeless anthem of suburban adolescence (which also features one of Peart’s greatest drum solos). But don’t sleep on “Digital Man,” a song that explores the alienation and flattened existence of life in a technological era. “His world is under anesthetic / Subdivided and synthetic,” Geddy Lee sings over a burbling bass line. But “Digital Man” is more than just a warning. On the song’s chorus, the band shifts into a breezy, reggae-inspired rhythm, as our Digital Man fantasizes about rediscovering his humanity — about ditching the iron cage of Babylon for the freedom of Avalon.
“Mission” (1987)
“Hold your fire / Keep it burning bright / Hold the flame / ‘Til the dream ignites.”
An uplifting song about the resilience and sacrifice required to chase one’s dreams, “Mission” might be the closest thing Rush has to a power ballad. Appearing on the band’s album “Hold Your Fire,” it’s got a bit of everything you want from an ’80s-era Rush song: new wave synths, a big cheesy chorus, an electric xylophone solo. But most importantly, it’s got enough emotional punch to bring a tear to the eye of even the most hardened prog rock fan.
“Malignant Narcissism” (2007)
By the mid-2000s, many rock fans — myself included — had written off Rush as dinosaurs from an older, more self-indulgent era. That changed upon hearing “Malignant Narcissism,” a swaggering instrumental from “Snakes & Arrows.” Built around an absurdly dirty bass riff and clocking in at just over two minutes, the high-octane track was an efficient and stinging rebuke to the haters, and proof that even in their 50s, the fellas from Rush could sound just as heavy and brooding as the rock bands du jour.
