Published on Nov 10, 1998
Rush went digital in 1982. Well, not completely.
Signals was actually the first digitally mixed/mastered
album. Upon listening, you wouldn’t consider this an improvement
though, especially compared their pre-digital ’81 release,
Moving Pictures. Signals’ soundscape is muddied with the
band’s attempt to incorporate thicker synthesizer tracks into the
album’s mix, and is a harsh contrast to
Moving Pictures‘ lush layering and bright, powerful drum
performance. If you can accept the more challenging sound though,
Signals has a lot to offer the casual listener.
“Subdivisions”, the opening track, contains Neil Peart’s
typically descriptive and melodramatic lyrics. This is immediately
apparent after the opening fanfare (with a synthesizer intro no
less): “Sprawling on the edges of the city/ in geometric order/ an
insulated border/ in between the bright lights and the far unlit
unknown.” As an ode to dorky suburban high school kids everywhere
(subdivisions – get it?), the song certainly succeeds. Geddy’s
skinny tie in the video is pretty telling as well.
The opening riff to “Analog Kid” is a sure reminder of Alex
Lifeson’s intensity, but the track is still plagued by the album’s
overall darkness. The song is a rocker, with a sensitive, Alan
Alda-esque chorus. Lifeson, Lee, and Peart had really refined their
jaw dropping chops by 1982, thus the overall performance on Signals
is a solid reminder of just why these guys are so good (the debate
over Geddy’s voice rages on – personally I like it). They exhibit a
certain control over the band’s prior tendency to write parts that
went, “okay, it gets really hard right HERE!”.
The album contains a couple socio-science lessons. I found
myself enjoying Peart’s pedagogic turn in these tunes; these were
the infants of his dense, real-world lyrics that persistently pop
up on subsequent albums. Lifeson’s “wall of sound” is in full
effect on “Chemistry”, and the band blends a passable amalgam of
drums, synth, bass, and electric guitar. The verse harkens back to
the days of Rush’s sci-fi backdrops, and is actually quite
powerful.
It is worth mentioning at this point Rush seemed quite enamored
to the white reggae sound of The Police. The hooks on many of
Signals‘ songs, especially the chorus to “Chemistry”, are
filled with a ska-like blend of cha-chink guitar chords and soaring
vocal/synth melodies. In contrast, the last track on the album is a
prototypical Rush structure. As the album’s other science lesson,
“Countdown” relives the first Space Shuttle launch, to which the
band was invited and attended in an area known as Red Sector A (a
nod to the Rush geeks out there – you know who you are). Actually
quite cool are the siren-like moog/oberheim calls (who knows?) and
Geddy’s insistent Cape Canaveral scene establishment.
I hear “New World Man”, the album’s biggest hit, was originally
called something like “Project X,” and was designed to fill the
remaining 3:41 allotted on the album. This is notable because “New
World Man” is the only track on
Signals that has a real clarity. It’s a refreshing change,
kind of like getting earwax removed. Another “man” song, “Digital
Man”, is my personal favorite. Neil Peart puts pretenders to rest
with his brilliant neo-prog-reggae drumming, and the song takes
some interesting turns around Lifeson’s always creative chord
voicings.
Following “Digital Man” is “The Weapon”, an interesting tune
with futuristic (go figure) lyrical content. Starting with a boppy
sequenced synth intro and futuristic guitar part, Peart establishes
a picture of collective mind control, where fear is the actual
weapon. The song realizes in the end that fear is a weapon that can
be just as easily used against “them”. Pretty cool.
“Losing It”, a ballad about true talents losing their ability to
create and move, incorporates intricate group interplay with a
violin guest appearance. This song itself is new ground for Rush,
but is based in their traditional inclusion of a studio ballad on
their usually very live-friendly albums. Its poignant content is a
sensitive departure for Peart, and is leveraged by his commonly
strong, detached style (I don’t think the man wrote a recognizable
love song until the early 90s – not that this should be one): “The
writer stares with glassy eyes/ defies the empty page/ his beard is
white, his face is lined/ and streaked with tears of rage.”
Signals represents a time of transition for Rush. Constantly
evolving demanded a lot of creative song manipulation. The melodies
are typically linear and indicate the vocal part and instrumental
parts were created separately, and forcefully fused at a later
time. But for Rush this method has proven successful as they’ve
managed to succeed over the years without the acceptance of
mainstream music outlets like Top 40 radio and MTV. In fact, I find
this style of songcraft endearing and certainly more sincere than
most of the stuff coming out now. I give this album a B mostly
because it could have used better production (oddly enough, Rush
fired their longtime producer Terry Brown on their next album,
Grace Under Pressure), but I still think it has long lasting
value if you’re willing to give it a spin.