Photo of Geddy Lee by King Graf
For rock fans of a certain age (you know who you are), attending a Rush show is like walking into a class reunion you actually want to attend. Many of us have been seeing Rush live since the ’70s (I’m a late bloomer, having started in ‘89), and it’s been a joy to witness not only the changes in the band over those decades, but in their fanbase as well.
In the ’80s, it was a well-known joke that Rush’s fanbase consisted primarily of dudes in denim jackets (including me), accompanied by dates who were there mostly under duress. (Please don’t come at me, longtime women Rush fans. We genuinely didn’t see very many of you back then.) But over the last few decades, something wonderful happened. Rush fans begat new Rush fans, and those waves of new fans grew and diversified, bringing an entirely new audience of rabid, ride-or-die superfans.
Another surprising development has been the evolution of the personalities within the band itself. If you followed Rush in the ’70s and ’80s, they often seemed dark and mysterious, even ominous at times in their subject matter. Since then, the band has opened up and revealed their surprisingly goofy and absurd senses of humor, culminating in the charming behind-the-scenes revelations of the 2010 documentary Beyond the Lighted Stage, which further endeared audiences to an already legendary band.
Shortly after completing 2015’s R40 Tour, a career-spanning retrospective that Geddy Lee described as their last “tour of this magnitude,” Neil Peart was diagnosed with cancer. He eventually passed away in 2020. Without Peart’s driving, one-of-a-kind beats and lyrical voice, Rush was officially over. Guitarist Alex Lifeson was very direct in an interview when he said, “There is no way Rush will ever exist again because Neil’s not here to be a part of it.”
While the idea of Rush never performing again was heartbreaking for fans, they ultimately understood that Rush could not—and some would say should not—continue without such a strong creative counterpart.
Which made the announcement of this year’s Fifty Something Tour a shocking and well-received development. When the band announced their drummer for the tour, German virtuoso Anika Nilles—and, gasp, a woman—I worried that some of the early fans (especially in this divided social media world) might not be willing to accept a non-dude behind the drumkit in what was once a very dude-centric band.
However, early clips of Nilles performing, and especially the footage fans have shared from this tour, have been glowing and nearly worshipful. Today’s Rush fans are more open than they once were. And they’re ecstatic that this drummer has somehow reignited Lee and Lifeson’s joy for the stage in a way that feels unprecedented.
Since the ’90s, the band had definitely started showing more of a sense of humor, especially live and in their between-song videos. But the joy I saw on their faces as they repeatedly joined Nilles to face her in front of her kit was a revelation. It felt like a glimpse of what these two guys might have been like as teenagers, excited to make music again with a new friend they obviously think is pretty cool.
While that joy was contagious at the St. Louis stop on the Fifty Something Tour, it went deeper for the band and fans, often feeling like a kind of cathartic Irish wake for Peart. The band mentioned him several times throughout the show, in addition to the in memoriam-style videos accompanying two of the tour’s regular highlights, “Bravado” and “Time Stand Still,” keeping Peart’s spirit and energy very much alive in the festivities.
Starting the show with a fun, extended “Xanadudes” video, in which three traveling kids visit a creepy castle containing elderly versions of Lee and Lifeson (plus a few surprise cameo prisoners you won’t want to miss—be sure to find this on YouTube), the band eased into a powerhouse, fan-pleasing set, opening with 1977’s “Xanadu,” an epic that has never opened a Rush show.
After following that classic opener with a “newer” track, 2009’s “Far Cry,” the band settled into a fan-favorites mix that left this crowd mesmerized. Highlights included 1981’s Moving Pictures album in its entirety and the complete 2112 suite from 1976. Many of the varied setlists on this current tour featured one or the other, but rarely both, so this sold-out crowd was especially excited to experience both classics in full. Another highlight was their performance of the title track from 1977’s A Farewell to Kings, which hasn’t been played live in over 30 years, and frankly made a whole room of Rush nerds freak out in unison.
The band played an incredibly strong set, with Lee’s vocals sounding far superior to those on the last few tours, apparently the result of some vocal training over the last few years. When he hit the high note on the bridge of “Freewill,” my concert mate (an old pal and fellow Rush nerd who plays guitar in STL’s Rush tribute band, Thunderhead) and I looked at each other in disbelief. At 73, Lee is hitting notes for the first time in decades and playing better and tighter than ever. His bass genius was highlighted throughout, but especially in a dazzling “Red Barchetta” coda.
While Lifeson sounded amazing, he had a couple of very forgivable “Senior Moments,” as my friend called them. One unfortunately occurred at the beginning of one of their most famous songs, “Overture” from 2112. The band recovered quickly with a few good-hearted laughs, and Lifeson later apologized for the incident, explaining that he’d hit the wrong pedal, causing him to play jazz.
Ironically, Nilles was the only band member to emerge from that gaffe unscathed. Nilles is a brilliant player, no doubt, but the band decided against giving her a drum solo. While that totally made sense in the context of this tour, and she certainly has dozens of moments to shine while playing Peart’s parts, I look forward to her getting the opportunity to show off her own personal style a bit more if future tours come to fruition.
After all, Rush fans owe this entire tour to the fact that two of their favorite goofy music dudes found a new friend worth playing with.
The rousing encore kicked off with “Finding My Way,” the opening track from their 1974 debut, featuring another tribute to a former drummer, this time John Rutsey, the founding member Peart replaced before the tour for that album. A lovely tribute to another old friend.
A Rush show wouldn’t seem complete without “Working Man,” the K-SHE classic that spawned the cracking of a thousand after-work six-packs. Looking around the room as Rush closed out the night with those booming power chords, many of those same six-packers (and their children) were once again raising their Budweisers with glee, thankful for the opportunity to share this experience one more time.
The setlist can be found here. | Brian McClelland
