“Limelight” - Rush
(Words/music: Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Neil Peart, available on Moving Pictures, Mercury 1981)

Over their history, Rush earned a reputation as a band for musicians and nerds, and to a degree it makes senses.  Their songs fuse complex meters, cryptic philosophy-quoting lyrics, and unparalleled  musicianship, leave little room for middle ground.  Despite continued radio airplay, you generally love Rush (even on a casual basis) or find them pompous or deplorable.  Growing up as a drummer, spending time studying (or rather, gawking) at Neil Peart’s polyrhythmic onslaught was an inevitability.  As a teenager, I wish I had half the drumset Peart used and a tenth of his ability.  For many, Rush was a gateway into other bands (and drummers) with even more complex songs with even stranger lyrical content.  Unlike some of my fellow musicians, I never went much further down the rabbit hole, as the joy in listening to many of these other bands began and ended with trying to figure out what time signatures they used.

This is what separates Rush from many of the bands that came after them – they are a trio of virtuosos and use their musicianship frequently, but always do so in the service of their songs.  “Limelight” might be the best example of their ability serving the song.  Considered by many to be Rush’s most straightforward song (mainly due to that killer introductory riff), “Limelight” works for those who want to think about the song and those who want to enjoy it without dissecting it.  Even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in an odd meter (think of “Take Five” as an example of something where the woosy five beats to a measure gives it a specific feeling), “Limelight” shifts frequently, moving from seven beats a measure into the standard four into three and all over the place.  Perhaps because the tempo is slow enough that it’s possible to nod your head along to every beat, it doesn’t feel like an exercise in metric shifts.  The song shifts meters in a way that seems natural because it fits the song; while lesser musicians would write a song in an odd meter just to brag about doing so, Rush quietly lets the song roll into the next phrase like a winding road that needs to bend in order to navigate natural landmarks.  It also gives the slower bridge (predominantly in triple meter) a distinct aesthetic feel from the rest of the song, going beyond the simple chord change to contrast the rest of the song.  Even when the guitar solo winds up, the song naturally evolves from the triple meter backing the solo back into the original “seven.”  For a second, Alex Lifeson’s guitar and the rhythm section seem backward, but the two keep moving along just to snap into place in time for the final chorus.  It’s a difficult song to play (just try playing the drums in Rock Band) yet it’s simple enough to enjoy without having to read along with the sheet music.

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