On their 1981 album Moving Pictures, Rush gave us the song Witch Hunt (Part III of Fear). Funny, since we had yet to see parts one and two of this mysterious trifecta. One would only know the song is Part III of Fear if one read the lyrics sheet included with the album... the title on the sleeve is simply Witch Hunt. This is the darkest and heaviest track on the Moving Pictures album, its other tracks brighter lyrically and musically.
Witch Hunt is an early successful melding of guitar and synthesizers for the band. Spare, heavy slashing guitar on verses is countered by dramatic, symphonic keyboards on chorus. One thing to note is the lack of a guitar solo - quite uncommon for a Rush tune. Moving Pictures was Rush's first foray into compact, less sprawling song structures, and Witch Hunt is no exception. In fact, The Camera Eye, which precedes it on the album, runs the longest at nearly eleven minutes, and it marked the last of the epics for Rush. Witch Hunt is a tightly-written composition, yet it feels like a leisurely pace that takes us from the atmospheric intro to the lean ominous verses, and on to the swell of the synths, and so on. It packs a punch.
The lyrics of Witch Hunt deal with fear of that which is different, or intolerance. Whether religion, politics, creed, or whatever, it is this that the song, through metaphor, discusses. Early in the lyrics, the imagery conjures up an actual witch hunt - with an angry mob armed with torches, as in the real-life Basque Witch Trials of the early 1600s. As the story progresses, though, it is revealed that this intolerance of people or ideas exists today. And it is this prejudice that breeds fear. This is how I would interpret the words of the song; there are other opinions out there, but they are all fairly similar. The lyrics are literal enough for one to grasp what songwriter Neil Peart had in mind as he put thoughts to paper. Through symbolism, Peart makes his point more vivid and colourful. I cannot include the lyrics here due to copyright laws, but you can see them at the official Rush website here.
On Rush's 1982 album Signals, they continue to unfold the enigmatic trilogy - in reverse - with The Weapon (Part II of Fear). The Signals album... um, signaled... a new musical direction for Rush. Synthesizers dominated the mix on the album, sort of dulling my interest in it for a long time, yet it can't be denied that the band wrote and recorded some masterful compositions here. And really, The Weapon is very guitar-heavy. As with Witch Hunt, guitar is prominent on verses, and only on choruses do keyboards swell up. There is a very nice symbotic relationship between the instruments on the track, especially during the dark and moody guitar solo - a perfect balance and contrast. The extended break is perhaps a high point on the album for me, closer to the vibe of Moving Pictures and maybe even earlier Rush. An interesting factoid is that Geddy Lee and a friend devised on an electronic drum machine the bizarre drum pattern which drummer Peart eventually learned to play manually (on his acoustic drum kit) for The Weapon. This would account for the unusual and intricate rhythms that "decorate" the song.
While the musical themes tell a story through sound, Neil Peart's lyrics conjure up images that join seemlessly with that aural backdrop. As best as I can decipher, Peart writes of control, and how people will live as they are told, under the power of other people or beliefs, for fear of... what, the unknown consequences? Within Peart's words, there is mention of political and religious figureheads, so I'd gather he speaks of an authority of some kind that can manipulate the masses by threatening them. Fear of something external. Read for yourself at Rush.com.
Next up, on their 1984 album, Grace Under Pressure, Rush presented us with The Enemy Within (Part I of Fear). This song sat comfortably within an album just drenched in misery. Not a happy record overall. That may be a reflection of the mood of the band and crew due to the death of a beloved recording technician, who was remembered in the song Afterimage.
While a brilliant work of art, this is a downer of an album, both thematically and musically.... bleak, pessimistic, tense, and atmospheric only in a stark coldness... all evoked by the new-found wall of droning synth sounds. There's plenty of guitar here, but Alex Lifeson was in the process of transforming his style. On Grace Under Pressure, Lifeson moving away from traditional power chords and straight-up speedy solos to effects-soaked rhythm-oriented playing, with solos often arpeggiated chords and wrenching all he could from single notes via sustain and vibrato. This approach often evoked heart-aching sadness and despair. Yep, real happy.
The Enemy Within shows Geddy getting ultra-busy with the bass, while Alex complements with rhythmic playing, though he is not relegated to the backseat behind loads of synths here. The song perhaps stands out on the album as having a bit more room for guitar, with keys only adding atmosphere during short quieter sections. The jangly guitar drives portions of the song, while a reggae style is employed on verses (and the outro), allowing Geddy space to noodle out melodic basslines. Drums are fairly straight-ahead, busy but rooted in restrained time signatures.
While a relatively upbeat tune musically, the lyrics are another story. The Enemy Within describes just that... what we fear most is in our minds, or, our fears are internal rather than based on anything that is real - or external. Yeah. Just read those lyrics (here)... creepy, unsettling, almost nightmarish, paranoid, the psychological manifesting itself in the physical. Phobias are right there - spiders, shadows, strangers, the dark. Loads of fun!
Trilogy completed! Right?
Well, nearly two decades later, in 2002, Rush released the album Vapor Trails (after a lengthy hiatus). And on that disc was Freeze (Part IV of Fear). So our little Trilogy of Fear was no more, now a quadrilogy. Unless more would come? Nope, that was it.
Freeze, and actually all of Vapor Trails, went entirely unnoticed by me for many, many years. When I first heard the album, I was so completely turned off by the sound of the recording that I didn't even consider buying it. Noisy to the point of irritating and unpleasant. Plus Rush had adopted a style of playing that wasn't at all in line with what I was listening to at the time. While I was in jazz and electronic mode, Rush had gone into complete noise-rock. I did get a ripped CD to at least act as placeholder in my Rush collection.
But a year or so ago, I finally tracked down the remixed version of Vapor Trails and found it much more listenable. The songs still haven't really won me over, but I just need to keep at it, give them a chance, wait for that day when I am truly ready for this re-born Rush. Anyway, I am now revisiting Freeze in order to complete my discussion of the Fear song cycle.
Freeze kicks off almost jazz-like, funky bass, a clanky percussive cymbal, a muted guitar chugga. Geddy's double-tracked vocals join in shortly. The tune gradually gains an edgier hard rock vibe, but with a difference. There's some breathing room, no thick impenetrable wall of grit. Some nice jangly guitars enter the picture on what I believe is the chorus. Shades of Rush past. Geddy offers a melodic touch with both vocals and his slap-happy bass, while Alex progressively turns up the volume, at least nearing song's end. No solo, but an airy bridge section that creates contrast within a track that could otherwise have been a bit monotonous. Freeze works well enough, though I'd say that musically it fails to create any real mood.
Looking at the lyrics (read 'em here), I feel like these are just as fascinating, maybe more so, than those of the original three Fear songs. Peart writes of the three reactions to something fearful: fight or flight or freeze. We often hear of the "fight or flight" response to a stressful situation, but not necessarily the "freeze" response. It is very real, how one can be so overwhelmed by an external threat that he or she cannot act. No ability to respond at all. The proverbial deer in the headlights, so frightened or surprised that it can't think or even move.
I'll risk it and quote my favourite line from the song: "The city crouches, steaming, in the early morning half-light". Whew... one of the cooler, more evocative lyrics in Neil Peart's written works. Yet symbolism and literism work hand in hand in Freeze. I feel as though if Peart had expressed himself more metaphorically, there might have been more to chew on here. More artful and playful, as he has often been with the written word. Still, a worthy final chapter in the Fear song series.
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