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Subject: 04/17/91 - The National Midnight Star #217 ** Special Edition **
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The National Midnight Star, Number 217
Wednesday, 17 April 1991
Today's Topics:
1984 Geddy Lee Interview
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Reprinted without permission from _Keyboard_ magazine, September 1984
GEDDY LEE OF RUSH
By Greg Armbruster
Laser light beams burst from the stage and arch across the
auditorium, accompanied by a cresting wave of sound that
physically staggers the tightly packed crowd beyond the security
barricades. In response, the audience matches the music's
momentum with a vast, arms-raised roaring benediction, which all
but swallows Geddy Lee's high-pitched opening vocal. Lee, who also
plays synthesizers and bass, guitarist Alex Lifeson, and drummer
Neil Peart all seem to twist, jerk, and vibrate as if they themselves
were electrified, generating a volume of sound that's palpable in its
intensity. Like mythological elementals, melody, harmony, and
rhythm become irresistible forces - swelling, surging, and exploding
over the audience. This unrelenting music can literally blast all else
from your mind and become the center of your consciousness; this
is white-hot-from-the-furnace heavy metal rock and roll!
It seems impossible that there are only three mortal human
beings at the center of this maelstrom, but then groups like Rush
don't earn the title "power trio" without being able to stand in the
eye of a musical hurricane. And when you have a power trio that's
been fused together by the heat of their talents for more than ten
years, the resulting alloy is strong and durable - characteristics of
Rush's continued popularity in a style of music that boasts few
enduring monuments.
Forged in Toronto in September 1968, Rush's original roster
included Geddy, Alex, and drummer John Rutsey. With musical
influences like Cream, Led Zeppelin, Procol Harum, the Who, and Jeff
Beck, it's hard to believe that their sound could fit inside a local
coffeehouse in the basement of a church. But they were Friday
night regulars there until Ray Danniels heard their sound and asked
to manage them. "He was sort of a local street-type, hustling kind
of a guy," according to Geddy in his 1980 _Guitar Player_
interview. Danniels started booking the band into Ontario high
schools. When the drinking age in Toronto was lowered to 18, he
was able to shift them into rock bars where they could be
appreciated by an older crowd. However, their desire to play
original material at high decibel levels severely curtailed their
performance opportunities. So for six years the band paid its dues
in small venues around Toronto, finally culminating in their first
record, _Rush_, and a U.S. tour in 1974. It was just before this tour
that Rutsey finally called it quits and was replaced by Neil Peart.
Then the real odyssey, encompassing eleven records and as
many major tours, began in earnest. First opening for groups like
Aerosmith, Kiss, and Blue Oyster Cult, then headlining their own
tours, they continued to perfect their special blend of intricate,
Zeppelin-like heavy rock for a growing audience of appreciative
fans. An important metamorphosis of their sound came in 1977
with the release of _Farewell to Kings_, when Geddy Lee added
synthesizers to the band's instrument arsenal. This change
immediately expanded their textual capabilities, in the studio as
well as onstage, and more than anything else inspired their musical
growth in new directions and allowed their three-man sound to
keep pace with the ever-increasing orchestrated complexity of
progressive rock music.
Geddy's decision to play the synthesizers himself was not
made quickly. After all, his responsibilities already included bass
and lead vocals. But he had first played the piano as a child, long
before picking up the bass in high school. "It was your basic
suburban story," he remembers, "where you're very young and your
mother thinks you should play the piano. I must have been nine or
ten, and I remember going to lessons twice a week for a couple of
years at the most. When I was really young, my sister took piano
lessons and I was intrigued by the sounds. I was able to listen to
the parts she was learning and figure them out by ear. I always
trusted my ear, even when I was pretty young, and my ear has
been my bread and butter." And when his ear dictated the need for
another sound in the band, the synthesizer was the obvious choice.
Also, it could be triggered from footpedals, which would allow him
to continue playing bass at the same time. Of course, one
synthesizer led to another, Alex joined Geddy on his own set of
Moog Taurus pedals, and now a stack of keyboards rises from each
side of the stage: electronic orchestral towers buttressing Rush's
soaring musical architecture with load-bearing sound supports.
On their most recent record, _Grace Under Pressure_, and the
accompanying tour, Geddy has taken another step forward with his
keyboard playing. For the first time, the bass has come off the
shoulder and he has revealed his growing talents as a multi-
keyboardist, triggering pedals and sequence switches with his feet,
and grabbing a multitude of sounds, lead lines, and bass runs with
both hands.
Although guitar, bass, and drums are still the foundation,
keyboards are playing an ever-greater role in Rush's musical epics.
In fact, Geddy Lee scored high in our 1981 _Keyboard_ Poll in the
Best New Talent category. We talked with Geddy backstage just
after a sold-out concert at the Cow Palace in South San Francisco.
His soft-spoken articulate manner belied the monstrous sound
within which he and his companions had so recently reveled
onstage. His opinions about synthesizers and their use within the
band show a remarkable understanding of keyboards in popular
rock music and their importance in the continued success of Rush.
* * * *
With all the keyboards that you play, do you now consider
yourself more of a keyboard player than a bassist?
Well, it's funny; I still think of myself as a bassist, but I put
more effort and more time into playing keyboards. Of all the
instruments that I play at home, I end up playing keyboards more
than anything because it's such a challenge. It's also more
satisfying than playing bass on my own. Although I love playing
bass, I'd rather play it *with* somebody - a bass is a lonely
instrument on its own. But with keyboards, especially synthesizers,
you can put up a sound and bathe yourself in it. Who needs anyone
else? My actual ability on keyboards is somewhat limited, and I
don't consider myself a keyboard player, although I do like playing
the synthesizers. I look at myself as more of a melodic composer
with the synthesizer. As a keyboard player I can't play a lot of
complex chord changes or move through a very complex structure,
but I can find lots and lots of melodies. I can write lots of songs on
a synthesizer. I can zone in on the sound that I want and make it
speak for the mood I want to create; that's my role as a synthesist.
Today, do you have to be a "keyboard player" to play
keyboards?
Obviously not [laughs]. I find that more and more people who
aren't accomplished musicians as keyboard players are synthesizer
players, or synthesists. However, a guy who doesn't have any
musicality is not going to make anything worthwhile. If you
haven't got a musical sense or a musical feel, you can have all the
toys in the world but you're still going to come up with nothing.
What I believe in most as a musician is musical sense, or musicality,
not how many notes you can play, or how many schools you've gone
to. What can you do with the knowledge that you have? Some
people with very limited technical knowledge can do amazing things
- - they can speak musically. Actually, you can make music with
very few notes. After all, there aren't that many notes to begin
with.
Are your synthesizer solos composed or improvised?
I write those melodies. For any melody part I'll try to pick
the right notes and the right pacing, just like I would write a vocal
part. Those synthesizer breaks in "Xanadu" and "The Trees" [from
_Exit...Stage Left_] I don't really think of as solos. I consider them
melody bits or parts. The only real keyboard solo I think I ever
played was the Minimoog lead on "Countdown" [from _Signals_] and
I don't think I'll ever do that again. I do a little improvisation on
keyboards, but not much. I stick to business with the keyboards.
What inspires your melodies when you sit down at the
keyboard?
A lot times the sound inspires me. That's why I'm so in love
with the PPG that I have now - it's almost like a magical instrument.
It's got such a wide variety of interesting sounds. I prefer sounds
that are like acoustic instruments but have something of their own;
something undefinable. Whenever I stumble over one of those
sounds, the melodies just pop out of me. As soon as I hear a sound
and start playing around with it, things come to mind. Of all the
instruments I've had, I think the PPG drives me the most to write.
What other features sold you on the PPG?
What I liked about the PPG was the fact that it was a digital
*and* an analog synthesizer [digital oscillators with analog filters].
Mind you, there's nothing like an analog synthesizer when you want
a powerful sound. Analog synthesizers like the Oberheim OB-Xa
and the Roland JP-8 have an organic punch to them that I find
difficult to get out of a digital synthesizer like the PPG. But they
have their own unique areas where they shine. The PPG has a
crystalline sound which sparkles. It has a very 'invisible' sort of
sound that the guitar punches through very easily. I guess the
structure of the wavetables and the combination of waveforms that
go into making the wavetable and the digitized sound itself imparts
a more 'transparent' quality to the sound. Analog synthesizers
seem to be a little more 'sludgy' and soak up more space. I find it's
harder to get that crystal clarity out of them. With the PPG, I can
take a digital sound and apply all the standard analog techniques to
it. The PPG is also very 'user-friendly,' as they say in the computer
world. It's laid out very well - very applicable to the player. Some
synthesizers are great for the studio, but not so practical for a
performance. The PPG stands on its own as a performance
synthesizer, and it can be used for sampling sounds in the studio
like a Fairlight by adding the Waveterm. Although the composition
page on the Fairlight is probably a lot more extensive, the PPG is
developing in that area. Besides, I just love the sound of it; it really
has inspiring sounds.
How do you go about looking for those unique, special sounds
that inspire songs?
I usually start with some other sound that gets me going.
When I'm in the studio, I'll go through a hundred sounds until find
something that's a trigger for me. When I find something that's in
the ballpark, I start playing with it; change the shape of the
envelope, start changing the wavetable a bit. I play around with a
lot of variations until I get the sound that moves me. Then, once I
get a sound that's close, I start playing around with the acoustic
environment, because how it's recorded is very important. When
you put a synthesizer directly into a [mixing] board and then directly
onto tape, the sound is not moving in the air and sounds sterile. For
me, it's very important that it go through some sort of speaker. I
like putting it through speakers and miking it. If you go direct, it
sounds too close. I want to push it back a bit and hear it bouncing
off some walls. It feels a little more like it's a person playing an
instrument in a room. It's coming from some sort of environment
instead of *blotto* - there it is. If you go direct, you have to use
toys like reverb and chorus units. There's also a very interesting
unit out now called the Quantec Room Simulator which puts the
sound into a space where you can define the dimensions of a room.
It's a pretty sophisticated toy, but putting the signal through a
speaker in the studio and miking it works just as well.
Do you change the size of the speaker cabinets in order to
alter the sound?
Yeah, on this album [_Grace Under Pressure_] we
experimented a lot with small cabinets. Sometimes we put the
synthesizers screaming loud through two big JBL monitors and
miked them from twenty feet back. We used that effect on "The
Enemy Within" for the melody parts.
Other than reverbs and chorus units, what other effects
devices have you used?
I used a vocoder once, but I didn't have good success with it.
I couldn't get it to work very well. I like to use effects, but not for
their own sake. I'd rather be concerned with ideas rather than just
effects. Ideas stand out, but if you need to use a toy to help
accomplish or enhance that idea, then that's fine. To use a toy for its
own sake, as aural candy, is fun sometimes; but if you've got a good
idea, you don't have to junk it up with toys and effects. I'm not a
guitar player and that's why I think that way. Guitar players all
think the other way: Got to have effects and toys, and this, that,
and the other thing.
Do you use your synthesizers much for sound effects?
Yes, especially on past albums there were always a few parts
where it was strictly sound effects. There are a couple of moments
on this record where the same thing happens. In one sound I use a
combination of a plucked string with a breaking glass. Jim Burgess,
who was helping me with the PPG programming, created this sound.
I used it on "Red Lenses" to go along with the rhythm of the drums,
which are playing a real accented part. On those accents, I would
hit this sound. But when you hear it on the record you don't notice
those two things individually, you just feel the effect. In
"Afterimage" I used a combination of a vocal sound and a human
voice and played a few random melodies that overlapped the main
part, which created some emotional peaks and valleys. There's
nothing like doing that spontaneously; I think that's part of the
magic of making records. When you're playing a part with a sound
that you love, almost anything you play sounds beautiful. Listening
to a piece of music that's well structured and trying to
spontaneously fit notes in to make your emotions rise, that's the
magic of recording I love best.
Do you feel that same magic during the mixdown?
Yes, but mixdown is more painful. For me, the two really
creative areas in making records are the bed-track stage and the
mixdown. The bed-track stage is very exciting because we're
human beings playing together and going for that magical take,
where all of our performances come together. Mixing requires so
much concentration, and you really have to take yourself out of the
studio; you have to separate yourself from the song. It's always a
battle for me because I'm so close to everything. I know every part
of every instrument so intimately, and yet I have to act as if I've
never heard those parts before. You have to have a fresh objective
sense because now it's not just a bunch of parts, now it has to
become a song on a record. I think a great record is one that's
mixed to sound like it's finished. It could be no other way than the
way you hear it. That's what we go for when we're mixing, and
sometimes we're successful and sometimes we're not. If you can
have enough strength to hang on to a song until you've gotten the
most out of it, that's the key to mixing. You have to be determined
not to say, "Well, it sounds okay; that's good enough." There has to
be someone objective there, and that's why I don't think we could
ever produce ourselves.
Had your former producer, Terry Brown, finally lost that
objectivity?
For all intents and purposes, he was in the band; he was one
of us, and that was great. We made a lot of great albums together,
but ten records is a long time working with the same attitudes.
Sometimes you have to have a radical change. Sometimes you have
to shake yourself and make sure you're not falling asleep at the
wheel, or falling into bad habits, or just taking the easy way out
every time. You want to have some fresh input that says, "That's
not good enough. Maybe it was last year, but not now. Why don't
you try something different?" That's what we wanted, and that's
why we changed producers. Finding Peter Henderson was a step in
our development, but I think we'll still keep looking for different
things from here on in. You have to have that freshness, that
excitement. It's very easy to get complacent in what we do, and
that's the real tragedy. At this stage, we'll do anything we can to
avoid that.
After eleven albums, haven't you pretty well defined the Rush
sound?
It's a sound that's always in a state of flux. Every once in a
while we reach a point where we solidify all the experiments. The
_2112_ album was the first solidification and _Moving Pictures_
was the second. There always seems to be a transitional period
before we assimilate everything. Neil [Peart] thinks that _Grace
Under Pressure_ is another solidification point, but I don't agree
with him. I think we're still on the way to some other place. Then
again, right after each record I feel like it was close; that we're
getting closer to the record that's still in us. That's good, though,
because that means we're still caring and we still want to do it.
Isn't there a problem sometimes transferring a fresh studio
sound or a new musical direction to the stage?
Yeah, sometimes you have to hold back in the studio. If you
have the PPG and the Waveterm [digital sampling], you're so
limitless in the studio. You can put in so many sounds that you
don't really hear and you're not really aware of, but they subtly
evoke a mood. They're all part of the overall sound and mood of
the song. In the studio you do that with four, five, six, or seven
different tracks. Onstage it's just you and your instruments; you
don't have any tracks. So you have to have a sound that speaks for
all of those subtle studio sounds in a different way, and that's
difficult to do. That's probably the only frustrating thing about
making records. Because we're a live band we sometimes have to
draw a line. And in a sense, maybe that's good, because it keeps our
music from being over-produced. Sometimes we'd like to be able to
just go nuts on something, and from time to time we'll do a song in
the studio that we agree not to do onstage. We'll never play it live,
so let's go and have some fun. Of course, if you write something
that's that good, you want to play it live if it turns out well. We're
doing a song on this tour called "Witch Hunt" that was originally
written as a studio song. We wouldn't play it live because we
wanted to be able to add extra keyboards and other things. We felt
that we could never reproduce it live so we never played it. Then
just on a whim, we tried it in rehearsal and it sounded fine. We'd
grown so much since writing it and had acquired all these new
keyboards that it works now.
What synthesizer did you start with, and how did you first
use it with the band?
The first thing I got was a Moog Taurus, then a Minimoog, and
it all grew from there. I got the Taurus because I wanted to play
double-neck guitar, and I wanted to keep the bass going while I
backed up Alex [Lifeson] on rhythm guitar. When I picked up the
Minimoog and started plunking around on it, I realized it required a
different attitude to write with it. I started writing melodies on it,
like the "Farewell To Kings" intro, and my music began to evolve.
On _Farewell To Kings_ I used a little bit of Minimoog and Taurus
pedals just to have another sound besides guitar, bass, and drums.
It was so refreshing to add a texture that we could drone behind
our sound - we didn't use it blatantly. That feeling and pulse in the
background was really how it started. Then when we went to a
very tight three-piece, it didn't feel so dry and empty. But as I
started getting more and more keyboards, I started writing more on
them, which was a big difference from our earlier material. A lot of
the songs we do today were written on keyboards.
Can you trace the path of keyboard influence in you albums?
I guess _Farewell To Kings_ was the first one, where we used
the synthesizers for string washes and texture fills. By the time we
did _Hemispheres_ I had added an Oberheim Eight-Voice. That's
when I really started to get keyboard crazy. "Truths" from
_Hemispheres_ and "Camera Eye" from _Moving Pictures_ were
both written on keyboards. With "Spirit Of Radio" and "Natural
Science" from _Permanent Waves_, I started using a lot of
sequences. I wrote those little melodies on keyboard and wrote the
bass and guitar lines to fit the sequences. "Subdivisions",
"Chemistry", and "The Weapon" [from _Signals_] were entirely
written on keyboards. After _Signals_ we realized that we had
gotten so keyboard-heavy that Alex was getting frustrated as a
guitarist. His role had been relegated to fundamental parts a lot of
times because the keyboards were so dominant. So with our latest
album, _Grace Under Pressure_, we transposed the parts I wrote on
keyboards for the the guitar, and I went back to the bass. As a
result, a song that started on keyboards ended up with no
keyboards in it, or at least for part of it. That helped put the guitar
back in the proper perspective for our band and yet still utilized the
keyboards in a more subtle musical way. Also on this album, we
put a lot of time and thought into experimenting with the kinds of
sounds we wanted. We tried to find sounds that had a different
character and [frequency] range than those of the guitar. That was
part of the problem with _Signals_: The guitar and keyboards were
sharing the same range too much, and it was a struggle. They were
each fighting for their fair share of sound.
Do you mean range not only in terms of notes but in sound
and texture as well?
Absolutely; especially with a sound like ours, where three
very busy players are trying to put in a lot. Somehow our sounds
have to be pushed apart from each other in order to hear them,
otherwise it just becomes this mess of midrange. With _Grace
Under Pressure_, I tried to move the keyboards out of the guitar
range on every track. I tried to let the guitar be natural and
breathe, and at the same time find something for the synthesizer
sound that had character and was unique. But there's so much good
synthesizer music around today that it's very hard not to use
synthesizer cliches.
Which synthesists do you listen to?
The Fixx and Tears For Rears; they make really synthesized
records. Almost everything in them is synthesized in some way or
another. Peter Gabriel and Larry Fast have some pretty high-
quality stuff that's state-of-the-art. I also listen to Simple Minds,
Ultravox, Talk Talk, the Eurythmics, and Kind Sunny Ade. Lately,
I've been listening to Howard Jones' _Human's Lib_ [Electra, 60346-
1]. I think it's a real contemporary record, keyboardwise and
vocally. I like the new King Crimson album [_Three Of A Perfect
Pair_, Warner Bros., 1-25071]. When you have musicians like these
educating people, discovering sounds, and utilizing new techniques,
it really sets the pace for synthesizer players. I feel that I can't
just go into the studio and use some token sound. A lot of thought
should be given to try to find new sounds that are fresh and
different.
Are you a self-taught synthesist?
Yeah, but a friend of mine, Terry Watkinson, who was a
keyboard player for a group called Max Webster, used to sit down
with me and explain the fundamentals. He used to draw little
charts for me; he was like a tutor I had on the road. He did a whole
tour with us and I picked up tips about playing keyboards. At that
time, I had one of the first Oberheim Eight-Voices with the different
modules; it was huge! But before I brought it into the band, I used
to have it set up every night in a tuning room backstage. I used to
play with it and try to figure out some of the fundamentals of
synthesis. As far as the mechanics of playing keyboards, I had
played the piano years and years ago but I'd forgotten everything
about it. So I had to learn all over again and try to figure out what
to do. Since I learned over again on a synthesizer, I have a real
difficulty playing piano because now I'm used to the spring-action
keyboard. Playing piano is a lot more disciplined than synthesizer
playing. If you have a strong sense melody and some musicality
you can get away with a lot more playing a synthesizer than you
can playing a piano. You can't just scoot by on a piano. It's a
demanding instrument and you have to make the thing work. On a
synthesizer, the sound can have a feel. It's so electronic that all you
have to do to make it live is apply some musicality and write the
melody.
But you still had to develop some keyboard technique in order
to play the synthesizer onstage. How did you improve your
abilities?
It was through practice and writing. I try to write things that
are more difficult for me to play. With _Grace Under Pressure_ I
tried to write moving bass parts that were independent of the
right-hand parts. So in my own way, I'm working very hard to
develop my right/left independence, with a lot more movement in
my left hand. You see, playing the bass is different because you're
in sync. Although your hands are doing different things,
rhythmically they're in sync. Whereas, the difficult thing about
playing keyboards is the rhythmically you have to be out of sync, or
independent. Also, I have to look opposite ways. My first tendency
when I started playing keyboards was every time my right hand
went down, my left hand went down. As a result, all my parts were
together. And even though I've gotten my right hand to the point
where I can make a lot of chord changes and do that pretty
smoothly, I'm still working on my left hand. Trying to get it to
work in the "holes," or independently, while the right hand does
whatever.
Have you ever considered imitating the physical freedom you
have with the bass by playing a remote keyboard?
That rubs me the wrong way. I think it looks like hell when
those guys walk around with keyboards. It looks 'Las Vegas' to me.
The only guy who had one that looked pretty decent was Roger
Powell from Utopia. He looked believable. He also plays like a
maniac, which helps, and I like him a lot. He's real good.
In order to improve your technique, do you make it a point to
write beyond your ability to play?
I think you have to - that's how you get better. In the earlier
days, around _Hemispheres_ time, we always did that. I'd write a
part and go, "Wow! This is tough to play." We would have to play it
a lot in order to play it well. During this period that was all we had
to do: Figure out something that was hard to play and in an odd
time signature. We would write fourteen different pieces, or bits,
that were in different time signatures and stick them all together to
create a concept. That was all well and good for the time, but in a
certain sense, it was really an easy way out. Okay, it wasn't easy to
play and it wasn't easy to think of, but it was easier than trying to
write a great song that's got a lasting melody and a moving feel.
Now, because our technical ability has gotten to a point where we can
pretty well play anything we can think of, our focus has shifted so
that feel is becoming more important than a melody, or the use of
melodies and their combination. Now we're using simpler rhythmic
formats and shading the melodies with the keyboards. We've
become more fascinate with this sort of classic structure.
What do you mean by classic structure? Classical music
forms?
Not in the sense of classical music, but classical in the sense of
a classic rock song. Two things make a great memorable song: feel
and melody - how that song hits you and the melody that it leaves
you with. We're in the pursuit of that, and at the same time we're
trying not to sacrifice the technical chops that we've gotten
together. That's what makes it difficult. Sometimes I think we
interrupt a great feel by throwing in some busy bit of business
because we can't play anything that's too simple for too long - we
start getting hyper. It's been said that we have a hyperactive
rhythm section and I think it's true, but there's nothing we can do
about it. We have to play like that because it's really us.
Sometimes it might suit the song for us to calm down a bit and let
the thing just ride, but boredom sets in and that's it. You've got to
play something. Maybe that's our bane; maybe that's the one thing
that will keep us back from making the ultimate song or album that
we feel is in us.
Isn't a "classical rock" song a contradiction in terms?
There have been great meetings of those two extremes. I'm a
big believer in fusing these styles. That's why a lot of rock and roll
purists hate what we do, because it's all fusion - we'll use anything
and I don't care where the influence comes from. We've taken a
very symphonic approach to some of our songs in the past. It's one
thing for me to say cynically that a lot of our earlier pieces were
just "sticking things together," but in our own way we were
orchestrating. We were taking that symphonic attitude or using
that structure. Now we're trying to do it on a shorter, more
immediate scale, because we seem to be going through a period of
music where the communication has to be more direct. And we
want to remain a band that communicates something. It's all well
and good to write whatever kind of music you feel like writing, but
at the same time you want to communicate. That's what music is all
about. For me, music is two things: It's my expression , and it's my
willingness to communicate, or convey that expression. If you just
care about the first part of the equation, that you're going to
express what you want to express and everyone be damned, then it
doesn't matter what kind of music you write. It doesn't matter
what you're expressing in what style. But if you care about the
second part of the equation, which is wanting to communicate that
expression to somebody out there, then yes, you have to be
concerned with the language of the day. And I think that people
today want, or need, or are having a more direct kind of
communication. So we're trying to apply all these things that we've
learned over the years in a more direct way so that we're not just
talking to ourselves.
Doesn't this musical responsibility to your audience inhibit
your writing somewhat?
No, I don't think so. It's a real challenge for me to be able to
put what we want to express across in a contemporary vein. We're
going through a period of music where it almost has to be felt more
than heard. It seems to be almost more sensory than it is cerebral.
It's a very direct, spontaneous time, and I don't know if much of the
music that's being made today will be remembered, or if it will be
regarded as well-constructed music. I don't think much of rock will
shine through and survive like classical music does, because rock is
popular music - pop music. Classical music has depth and lasting
ability. I don't think pop music does, because it's so much a
reflection of the times.
And classical music wasn't?
I don't think so; not in the sense that it's dated. If you listen
to a piece of classical music, it's a piece of *music*. But if you listen
to a pop song from 1954, it sounds like a pop song from 1954. Who
knows how much of the music that's being written today will be
worth listening to in ten years, except for nostalgia? And that's the
way pop music seems to get categorized. We're listening to nostalgia
songs now, ones that I grew up with. They lasted, but only in a real
sentimental way, not in a classic sense of music to be revered like
classical music is. Maybe some the longer pieces or some of the
more serious pieces of music for the mid-'70s will be remembered
as great pieces of music. Also in the mid-'70s, it seemed that people
were listening to music more than they are now. There were longer
pieces being written and people would close their eyes and get
inside the tune. People had more patience for a song and would let
the song develop. But now, rhythmically and melodically, it has to
be very immediate, and the depth comes from the textural
structure.
So today, isn't the role of synthesizers in the Rush sound still
one of defining background textures and evoking moods?
They have forced their way into becoming a very integral part
of our sound. And at times their role is to enhance a fundamental
three-piece sound. But at other times they come to the forefront -
theirs must be the primary sound. I think that's what gives variety
to our sound and also adds some freshness. I don't think any of us
are content to be a guitar-oriented band any more; not with all the
music that's going on now and with all the refreshing sounds that
are being made. There are real pioneers in rock music today. Peter
Gabriel's _Security_ [Geffen Records, GHS-2011] is a perfect
example. When you listen to that kind of record and get inspired
by what can be done, then you can't really be satisfied with
something that isn't keeping up. That's the way we feel about it.
As much as we want to remain a three-piece, we would like to
move into the areas of exploration that other people are moving
into. It's hard to hold yourself back, and I think as musicians, it's
wrong to hold yourself back. Synthesizers have abridged a gap and
opened up an area for us. They have taken us from a strictly three-
piece hard rock band to a band that speaks in the language of today,
which I think is real important. The musical language of today is
rhythmic immediacy, melodic strength, and textural depth. And the
texture, the shading and coloring, is what makes you want to hear it
more and more.
Are lyrics that necessary, then?
I think so, because they are the point of the statement - the
focus. That's what gives the song meaning. That's what separates it
from just being rambling, although I think you can make a
statement without words. With words, it brings another level to the
song. It's the final communication.
Just as sounds suggest melodies, do the melodies suggest
words?
Sometimes, but more often than not, my job is to draw some
sort of musical mood out of a lyric. Usually I'm orchestrating lyrics
that are already written. However, with a song like "Between The
Wheels" [from _Grace Under Pressure_], we came into the rehearsal
studio and I started playing. The whole song came out in about
twenty minutes. We all started jamming and it became a song
accidentally, or spontaneously, and then the lyrics were written. In
that case, the chords that I stumbled onto, and the jamming that
followed, were so emotive that they inspired Neil [Peart] to write
the words. On the other hand, the lyrics for "Afterimage" were
already written. They were very personal and it was very
important that the right notes, the right melody, be found. That
was a case of writing strictly to the lyric, and by the way, that song
was written mostly on keyboards.
Does your high vocal range often determine the key in which
the music is written?
Well, it used to be an afterthought, and I would get into a lot
trouble because after we wrote the song and I would go to sing it, I
would realize that I could only sing it very high or very low -
nothing in the middle would work. _Hemispheres_ was an example
of that. The whole record was written in a very difficult key for me
to sing If I sang low, I didn't have any power, so I had to sing way
up high, and it's difficult to do. That's partly how I go my
reputation as a 'high singing guy'.
You don't sing as high any more, do you?
No, and that's a conscious decision, because I want to use my
voice more. I want to sing more, and it's real hard to sing when
you're using all your energy to stay two octaves above mortal man.
It's a lot of work to keep punching your voice up. Besides, I think
my voice has a much better sound in my natural speaking range,
and it's a lot more enjoyable to sing. I can actually close my eyes
and just use my voice and sing; I love it.
Because you've been together so long, do you feel that Alex
and Neil have become extensions of your orchestral inspirations?
Sometimes it's that way, and sometimes the drum part is so
strong that it evokes something for Alex and me. Sometimes the
guitar part is the drive; it really goes three ways - there's really not
one musical leader. I guess because I play bass and keyboards,
and sing, a lot of the inspiration for writing our songs comes from
me, partly because I have so much to do, partly because I have a
vested interest in almost every aspect of the song, and partly
because of my nature - I'm more of a workaholic than my partners.
However, it's remarkably a three-way division, a democracy, and I
think in terms of me as part of a band. A lot of times when I'm
writing a song, I'll write my part bearing in mind that Alex will
have his part too. I don't try to complete the thing. I'll leave holes
for Alex to inject his ideas, like he does for me.
How do you practice in order to do three different things on
stage: bass, keyboards, and vocals?
Well, I practice in bits and pieces. At home I like to have all
my keyboards set up like I have them live, so that when I start to
work on stuff, I can practice all the motions. The majority of my
practice is with the other members of the band. When we're
working on a song in the studio, we work on it for a long time. That
rehearsal period really gets my chops together. As a musician that
plays more than one instrument, one thing that helps me is to try to
keep the melodic thread in common with keyboards, vocals, and
bass. If I'm playing bass to a keyboard part and a vocal line, I'll try
to make them have some kind of connection in my head to the
vocal. If I'm singing one thing through a bass change, a keyboard
change, and a bass pedal change, I try to make those relate in some
way to the vocal part, whether it's rhythmically or melodically.
Then it's an easier transition, and I don't have to be three different
people at the same time. You can have that independence, but for
me it works if there is some sort of common thread within it. In the
end I think it helps give the song a unifying melody. I know it's
helped my bass playing. A long time ago, I found it difficult to sing
and play bass at the same time, so I started making my bass parts
more melodic, which gave them something more in common with
my singing. This helped make my bass patterns more musical
instead of just fundamental roots. It also made my bass playing
busier, which I liked [laughs].
In order to coordinate all your instrumental playing with your
vocals, you have to know exactly where you are at all times when
you're performing. Doesn't thins precise choreography inhibit your
musical spontaneity?
It does sometimes, because you have to be aware of that
choreography a lot on stage. Many times towards the end of one
song, I'll have to be thinking about what my setups are for the next
song. Whenever I have a breathing space, I flick a switch, or put up
a patch, or step on a button, or change a dial, and it does take away
from the spontaneity of my playing. In the PPG I've got all my
sounds stepped, so that all I have to do is step on a pedal and my
next sound is there. That's such a relief because I don't have to
think about it. But with the other instruments, there are a lot of
changes to be made, and I can't totally put myself in a musician
frame of mind. I can't totally just play for the whole song. At some
point, I have to snap myself back to reality and think about the
setup for the next song. Otherwise, I'd be forever between each
tune. I'd have to say, "Excuse me, I'll be with you in about five
minutes. I have to throw four hundred switches here." So I
sacrifice total musical spontaneity in order to have a smooth and
quick-paced show.
How do you synchronize your timing with the sequences?
Making sure you have the right momentary on/off switches.
It's very important that the sequencer turns on when you step
down and not when you lift your foot off. This sounds like a silly
problem, but it's a very serious problem when your hands are full
and you're using your feet to trigger very complex parts. It has to
be right on or it blows the song. We found that a lot of momentary
switches trigger on the way up, and they would always be out of
sync. We couldn't figure out why, because I knew I was stepping
on the foot pedal at the right time. Anyway, we had them all
reversed so that as soon as they go down, they're on. Neil wears
headphones when we're sequencing so he can play to the sequencer.
The [Oberheim] DSXs are pretty solid; the control track keeps their
temp the same all the time. So as long as Neil can hear that, we'll be
in sync. The [Roland] TR-808 is the master clock when I'm just
using the arpeggiator on the JP-8. Because it's such a busy thing, I
will send Neil a click from the 808; the same click that's pulsing the
arpeggiator will go to his headphones. So when I'm using a
complex-arpeggiator part, he doesn't get all that running around.
He gets the fundamental and syncs to that. It's a complex setup for
him but it works.
When you start a song can you tell if the tempo is going to be
right when the sequencer comes in?
Sometimes you know when you're right out to lunch, too!
Sometimes the sequencer part comes in and, "Whoa, pull back on
the reins here." Occasionally we're too slow; it can vary. We're
human beings, and it depends on what we've been eating or how
fired up we are. But Neil works real hard on making sure his
tempos are steady and there's very rarely a problem of being out of
sync. Some songs aren't much of a problem because there's so much
sequencer. If the sequencer starts the song, the tempo is
established right away and we're pretty well locked. But songs like
"The Body Electric" [from _Grace Under Pressure_], where the
sequencers only come in for the choruses, you have to make sure
that you're playing the right tempo to begin with.
How do you use your arpeggiators?
I usually use the arpeggiator for hypnotic bass lines. On "Red
Sector A" [from _Grace Under Pressure_] I use it very fast so that it
has a real hypnotic pulse. I also use it in "The Weapon" [from
_Signals_] for a repeating bass line. I think the arpeggiator is a
great rhythmic tool. By using a real 'bottomy' sound, with Neil
playing charge behind it, all of a sudden it's a real great groove.
You mentioned earlier that you've been working on left/right
hand independence by writing keyboard bass lines for your left
hand. Do you still rely on the arpeggiator or sequencer to play them
for you onstage?
No, when I'm not playing bass, I play the bass lines on the
keyboard now. For "Afterimage," I play all the bass lines in the left
hand, and for "Between The Wheels" [also from _Grace Under
Pressure_], I play most of the bass lines on keyboards. This was the
big step for me on _Grace Under Pressure_ as far as keyboard
playing. Almost every time I had a right-hand keyboard part, I
would write a bass pattern for the left hand, even if it was basic,
just to get into the habit of doing it. That way I could set up
different bass sounds too. On this tour I've been using two
keyboards at the same time, and I've never done that before.
That's all part of the development of my hand independence. I can
set up one sound here and set up the bass sound there and go for it.
It's a nice feeling to have those sounds spread out like that.
As you've gotten better on keyboards, have you considered
making a solo album?
Someday I'll do one, but I think it will be more of an album
with other people I've wanted to play with for a long time rather
than, "Ta da! Here's Geddy Lee and what he really does!" I'm not a
big believer in guys who do solo albums just to strut their personal
stuff. The only reason I'll do a 'solo' album would be to use my
position to make record with musicians that I know and respect and
would love to play with but don't get the chance. Mostly friends of
mine at home, like [violinist] Ben Mink [who played on "Losing It"
from _Signals_], or [keyboardist] Hugh Syme [Who played piano on
"Different Strings" from _Permanent Waves_, and has been the art
director for all the Rush album covers]. But generally everything
that I want to do musically I can do in Rush, so I'm not frustrated. I
don't have fourteen songs put aside. Everytime I save something
for myself, it gets used in the band anyway.
Is there anything in your musical career that you would do
differently?
The only thing I would do is learn a little more about the
language of music. I would like to have learned earlier about
writing music and knowing the written notes of the bass at a
younger age. I learned all those things late in life. I don't think it's
a necessity but it's a definite advantage, especially when you
communicate with other musicians. It was never that important to
me because I was in a band with the same people for many, many
years, so we developed our own way of talking to each other. When
I first started communicating with other musicians, I realized how
little I knew, and it was a real hindrance and a disadvantage.
How would you sum up your musical experiences and advise
younger players?
Well, I think as long as you're honest with yourself about
whatever you do, then the one thing that will shine through is how
much conviction goes into the piece that you're playing or writing. I
think people know when somebody means it and when they don't
And often that's the difference between me liking a piece of music
or not liking it. If you know that someone really believes in what
they're doing and is putting it across, then it reaches a little farther.
Be honest with yourself and with whatever you're trying to
communicate - that's the best form of expression. And my most
important piece of advice for young musicians is...always take your
wallet onstage with you.
- ------------------------------------------------------------
ON THE ROAD WITH RUSH
Tony Geranios: Synthesizer Technician
By Greg Armbruster
Self-taught musicians abound, but self-taught synthesizer
technicians are exceptions in a field which is constantly expanding
and calls for skills ranging from wire-soldering to computer
programming. Tony Geranios, guitar and synthesizer maintenance
expert for Rush, has learned his trade on the road, picking up tips
and service expertise directly from the manufacturers' technicians.
"That's the best place to learn it," he agrees. "You can learn
whatever you want in a teaching situation or on paper, but when it
actually comes to putting it to use, there are a lot of things that
don't apply in a real life situation. I've tried to maintain as much
communication as I can with all of the technicians at all of the
companies that have to do with my equipment."
Before joining Rush's technical staff in August 1977, Tony
briefly maintained the keyboards and guitars for Blue Oyster Cult.
He had replaced the previous tech on a recommendation from the
Cult's sound engineer, his brother George Geranios. "I was new on
their crew when Rush started opening for Blue Oyster Cult," Tony
remembers. "I had a much bigger keyboard rig with the Cult, but it
was very basic analog stuff. I had always worked with Moog
equipment so I knew a lot about it. They also had an L-5 Steinway
piano that I learned how to tune and service, and a [Hammond] B-3
organ, which I beefed up. Actually, my brother taught me a lot of
stuff. His influence was very important. At that time, he was
utilizing an Oberheim module, which came from their Four-Voice
modular system. He had interfaced it with the snare drum channel
on his Midas mixing console and processed the signal through it,
creating a very interesting drum solo effect that went along with
the laser light show. I thought to myself, if you can take a control
voltage from just the sound of a drum and alter it, why can't I
trigger other synthesizers with one control voltage? So when I left
the Cult and went to work for Rush, I wanted to develop a system
where Geddy could play the [Moog Taurus] bass pedals and trigger
other synthesizers."
Tony and Geddy finally solved the bass pedal/synthesizer
interface problem when Rush toured with Bob Seger. "I knew
Seger's old keyboard player, Robyn Robbins, who had just gotten an
Oberheim Four-Voice. One afternoon during the sound check, he
showed Geddy what was happening with it and then we started
looking into that synthesizer for the bass pedal interface. At the
time it was the only synthesizer that had a split keyboard
capability, and Geddy wanted to play the lower half of the keyboard
with the bass pedals and the upper half with his hand. Also, you
could individually tune each module. You could have a horn sound
on one module, a string sound on another, a wind sound on a third,
and you could have different types of decay, all mixed into one total
sound. With a lot of the newer keyboards you can't give distinctive
characteristics to an individual module without some sort of
computer memory involved. So Geddy ended up with an Oberheim
Eight-Voice. It was a white elephant, but it worked, and it was very
interesting."
Today, Tony has to take care of Geddy's synthesizer stack and
guitarist Alex Lifeson's keyboard rig as well. "Geddy has a PPG
Wave 2.2 with the Waveterm digital sampling option, a Minimoog,
an OB-Xa with a DSX [sequencer], a [Roland] Jupiter-8, and a TR-808
drum machine connected to the arpeggiator of the Jupiter-8," Tony
reports. "He also has two sets of Taurus bass pedals, one
underneath the PPG and the other at the front mike location. When
he depresses a pedal, he not only gets the bass pedal sound itself,
he also gets the program that's up on the OB-Xa. He can play two
synthesizers at the same time with just his feet! in addition, I've
put switches on the bass pedals which allow Geddy to choose one of
three octaves on the OB-Xa that the pedals will trigger. He can use
the lower octave, the middle octave, or the top octave of the
keyboard. Alex has two 120-program OB-Xas with two DSXs. One
of the OB-Xas is interfaced with a set of bass pedals like Geddy's
setup, and the other just plays sequences triggered from a remote
pedal."
Even drummer Neil Peart has recently gone electric with a set
of Simmons drums. "Neil has just gotten into things you plug in as
opposed to things you just set up and hit," Tony remarks. "In fact,
the only thing we use the TR-808 drum machine for is to trigger the
arpeggiator on the Jupiter-8 and send a metronome reference click
to Neil's headphones."
In the future, Tony has plans to incorporate comprehensive
computer control over all of the synthesizers, binding them together
into one integrated network. "I want to find a digital mainframe
that we can use between the pedals and the synthesizers, that will
give us program and preset capabilities," Tony reveals. "It could be
preprogrammed for selected keyboards so that you could assign
different notes, up to 18 different VCOs, to those keyboards, by
depressing just one of the bass pedals. It would allow Geddy to
have an entire chord with various strings and horns mixed in, each
with different attack and decay times. This way one synthesizer
could be used just for strings and another just for horns, and so on.
That technology is around, it's just a matter of pulling it into the
music world. The music industry is a very small part of anything
that has to do with really sophisticated electronics - it's a very small
piece of the pie. Video, movies, and big industries use a lot more
computer mainframes and software than the music industry does. I
want to have sophisticated interfacing capabilities, with real-time as
well as preprogrammed functions, and a scratch-pad memory in our
future computer interface system."
When asked to what extent the limitations of Geddy's
instruments determine the character or orchestration of a particular
song, Tony replies, "Well, they're all very careful in the studio not to
overproduce themselves. They won't put on a lot of layers or tracks
that they can't possibly come up with live. I've always instigated
hardware changes, like the interfaces we have now, and I suggest to
Geddy what the capabilities are, especially in the areas that I
happen to be excited about on a day-to-day basis. If he sees
something that would be useful, we'll get down and discuss ways of
doing it. And if I can get this computer interface system together,
then I'll feel very satisfied that I've done just about everything that
I could do to further the possibilities of Rush's sound, in the studio
and on the stage."
----------------------------------------------------------
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End of The National Midnight Star Number 217
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