Ever have one of those days when virtually everything that could possibly go wrong does? Yeah, I had a couple of those this week. Nothing serious, but just not what I’d had in mind. As such, plans to put up more cool stuff –- or stuff that I would consider “cool,” at least -– here had to be put on ice for a little bit. The cool stuff in question is still in the works, but it might take slightly longer than initially conceived to bring it to fruition.
Regardless, being that today is Friday, July 14, that means that tomorrow is the 12-year anniversary of this silly blog, and since I probably won’t be near a computer tomorrow, I figured I’d prematurely post about it now.
By this point, I think I’ve long established how continually gobsmacked I am that people read and follow this blog. Thanks for sticking with it, for forgiving me my less thoughtfully considered rants, for overlooking my hastily-concluded assumptions, for turning a blind eye to my frequent lapses in editorial judgment and for being patient with my catastrophic penchant for typos. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your interest, but I’ll continue to do my best to sustain it, if at all possible.
For any Francophiles out there, today is also Bastille Day. Instead of ruminating on what inevitably promises to be another cripplingly embarrassing chapter in the Trump Administration as our Fake President befouls the City of Light in La Belle France with his oafish idiocy (and that’s as polite as I can be about it), I thought I’d devote to rest of this post to the only relatively contemporary song I’m aware of that addresses the holiday in question, that being “Bastille Day” by ye olde Rush.
My gateway drug into all things Rush in high school was Moving Pictures, their landmark 1981 album that spawned such burly, hook-laden singles as “Tom Sawyer” and “Limelight.” This was followed swiftly by their sprawling live album, Exit … Stage Left, which, for the transition from “Broon’s Bane” into “The Trees” and finally into “Xanadu” alone makes it essential, or to my ears, anyway.
Inspired by same, when I happened upon a copy of Caress of Steel, their “difficult” 1975 album in the cut-out bin at the old “five and dime” Woolworth’s on East 86th (long, long gone … captured above by one Dave Sanders), I figured, “how bad could it be?” Suffice to say, the album wasn’t totally what I’d been expecting, finding Geddy Lee’s voice a bit shriller than it would later become. While far from their finest hour, the album does open with “Bastille Day,” a rollicking shot across the bow that rendered the album a keeper. Alex Lifeson’s opening riff (especially at 00:18) almost reminds me of a few of my favorite hardcore albums (let that sink in, I realize that it’s a stretch).
Anyway, happy Bastille Day. Cut each other some slack. Enjoy your summer. Thanks for reading.
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