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Subject: RUSH Fans Digest of 08/20/90 (#34)

               RUSH Fans Digest, Number 34

                  Monday, 20 August 1990
Today's Topics:
                    Re:  Mongo Mistake
                      Mongo mistake
                    Various Ramblings
                   A Nice Morning Drive
            Alex, the universe, and everything

Date:    Fri, 17 Aug 90 10:40 EDT
From: "Malzor" 
Subject: Re:  Mongo Mistake

Is this Doug person serious?  The problem I've seen with people interpreting
stuff from anywhere (including the bible) is that they try to take it too
literally.  'He and she are in the house, but there's only me at home.'  I
always thought Neil meant something like 'Sure these guys also have a college
degree but I the only one in the bunch who actually understands anything,'
which could prove to be quite true with most people.  Everyone's an expert.
Maybe Doug just thinks it's a poor anagram.  :)



Date: Fri, 17 Aug 90 12:08:03 -0400
From: jdb@po.CWRU.Edu (Justin D. Bukowski)
Subject: Mongo mistake

>An example of poetic license:
>	"he and she are in the house, but there's only me at home"
>Come on, Neil!  Get a life!  He's at home, too, and she's hiding in the chest.

OK. I've finally found the opportunity to speak out about
something that's been bothering me:

     "Image is just an eye-less game."

No! Game is an eye-less image!

Whew! What a relief.

ORQ: "He's not afraid of your judgement,
      He knows of horrors worse than your Hell."

Justin D. Bukowski               |                                |
Case Western Reserve University  | I feel like an alien,          |
Cleveland, Ohio 44106            | a stranger in an alien place.  |
Hell                             |                                |


Date: Thu, 16 Aug 90 12:07:54 EST
From: Snow Dog 

Here's a new one for you.  So far everyone has been talking about Mongo
being from Blazing Saddles, but I've found another reference, one I think
is more up Neil's reading alley.  Mongo is the name of the planet that was
heading toward earth in the original Flash Gordon series.  Does this give
anyone any new ideas?

Also, as some people have been pointing out, Rush has gone throught various
stages over its lifetime.  Has anyone noticed that the dividing lines, as
given by numerous people, always fall after the live album?  Can this be just
coincidence, or is it some sort of plan?

"Thank you very much... Goodnight"

Anagram (for Mongo)


Date: Sat, 18 Aug 90 22:35:09 EST
From: Digital Man 
Subject: Various Ramblings

Ok, who is Rick Astley?
On the topic of dream bands, I agree with the comments about how you can't
just take great musicians and put them into a band, expecting a great
group (ASIA, as alluded to, is a prime example). I agree with Snow Dog,
Alex has done some absolutely incredible work throughout and he should
definitely go on the list. Geddy and Neil are shoe-ins too. I wouldn't say
I'm partial to the guys because I like Rush. On the contrary, I like Rush
because each of the individual musicians are masters of their instruments.

I've noticed a definite evolution in the band's sound and lyrical content
that doesn't necessarily follow the 4 album trend. Here are my observations.
Rush was a balls out rocker with a sort of 'thin' sound. I can't really
explain my thick vs thin impressions, maybe it's just a bassy vs treble
feeling. I saw an obvious change on Fly By Night toward the abstract and
artsy. I think of this sound as 'thick'. I saw Caress of Steel as 'thin'
and a definite change to exploratory music. This was continued but perfected
on the masterpiece 2112, which I view as 'thick' (maybe I mean lush).
A Farewell to Kings and Hemispheres were continuations of the sound developed
on Caress of Steel and 2112. I consider that sound the essence of Rush.
Then came Permanent Waves. I remember waiting for months for that one to
come out, as its release was delayed for some reason. When it came out I
was bewildered. The sound (which I consider 'thin') was a truly unexpected
change and took me a while to get used to. I felt it was somehow, well...
commercial. But it grew on me. Then came Moving Pictures. At first, Tom
Sawyer scared me (oh my God, they have gone commercial). Strange, now
that song is thought of as 'classic' Rush. I felt this album had a thick
sound. It has become my favorite album of all time, bar none. They also
did the best concert I've ever seen on that tour. Next came Signals. I
feel this album was a huge change ('thin') toward the modern Science
and away from fantasy/sci-fi. Grace Under Pressure was heavier but had
to much in the way of synths, but still a great album. When Power Windows
came out, I became disillusioned and didn't even buy it after it came out.
The Big Money had 'commercial' written all over the sound. Then came
Hold Your Fire. I started listening to it and fell in love with their new
sound and subsequently went back and found Power Windows to be even better.
Both of these sounded 'thin' to me. I couldn't wait for the next album.
When Presto came out, I was blown away. Since I could now assimilate any
change they threw my way, I was ready for anything. Man, did they do it
right this time. This album has no definitive sound to me. It sounds like
every song they have ever done (and for that matter reminds me of evey
great song anyone has ever done). Please don't misconstrue my thick and
thin analogies as reflections on quality, just atmosphere. I also noticed
I tend to think of the songs on a given album in terms of the colors of the
album cover (the front). Does anyone else have a similar experience?

Well that's enough incoherence for one sitting.

Digital Man
...He knows changes aren't permanent... but change is.


From: Roger Swanson 
Subject: A Nice Morning Drive
Date: Sun, 19 Aug 90 21:14:11 CDT

Hi all...

A few months ago, there was a big discussion about the song _Red Barchetta_,
the meaning behind it, and the story it was based upon. No one had ever posted
the story (with good reason...this thing's hard to find!), so I started looking
for it. Needless to say, I finally found a copy, which I've reproduced below.
There are some very interesting differences and similarities between the song
and the story, but before I blert out my ideas, I'll let you read the story
and form your own.


             _A Nice Morning Drive_ by Richard S. Foster
                 Road & Track  Nov,1973  pp.148-150
                 ( Reproduced without permission...)

  It was a fine morning in March 1982. The warm weather and clear
sky gave promise of an early spring. Buzz had arisen early that morning,
impatiently eaten breakfast and .gone to the garage. Opening the door, he
saw the sunshine bounce off the gleaming hood of his I5-year-old MGB
roadster. After carefully checking the fluid levels, tire pressures and
ignition wires, Buzz slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine, which
immediately fired to life. He thought happily of the next few hours he would
spend with the car, but his happiness was clouded - it was not as easy as it
used to be.
  A dozen years ago things had begun changing. First there were a few
modest safety and emission improvements required on new cars; gradually
these became more comprehensive. The governmental requirements reached
an adequate level, but they didn't stop; they continued and became more
and more stringent. Now there were very few of the older models left,
through natural deterioration and . . . other reasons.
  The MG was warmed up now and Buzz left the garage, hoping that this
early in the morning there would be no trouble. He kept an eye on the
instruments as he made his way down into the valley. The valley roads were
no longer used very much: the small farms were all owned by doctors and
the roads were somewhat narrow for the MSVs (Modern Safety Vehicles).
  The safety crusade had been well done at first. The few harebrained
schemes were quickly ruled out and a sense of rationality developed. But in
the late Seventies, with no major wars, cancer cured and social welfare
straightened out. the politicians needed a new cause and once again they
turned toward the automobile. The regulations concerning safety became
tougher. Cars became larger, heavier, less efficient. They consumed gasoline
so voraciously that the United States had had to become a major ally with
the Arabian countries. The new cars were hard to stop or maneuver quickly.
but they would save your life (usually) in a 5O-mph crash. With 200 million
cars on the road, however, few people ever drove that fast anymore.
  Buzz zipped quickly to the valley floor, dodging the frequent potholes
which had developed from neglect of the seldom-used roads. The engine
sounded spot-on and the entire car had a tight, good feeling about it. He
negotiated several quick S-curves and reached 6000 in third gear before
backing off for the next turn. He didn't worry about the police down here.
No, not the cops . . .
  Despite the extent of the safety program. it was essentially a good
idea. But unforeseen complications had arisen. People became accustomed to
cars which went undamaged in lO-mph collisions. They gave even less
thought than before to the possibility of being injured in a crash. As a
result, they tended to worry less about clearances and rights-of-way, so that
the accident rate went up a steady six percent every year. But the damages and
injuries actually decreased, so the government was happy, the insurance
industry was happy and most of the car owners were happy. Most of the car
ownersi-the owners of the non-MSV cars were kept busy dodging the less
careful MSV drivers, and the result of this mismatch left very few of the
older cars in existence. If they weren't crushed between two 6000-pound
sleds on the highway they were quietly priced into the junkyard by the
insurance peddlers. And worst of all, they became targets . . .
  Buzz was well into his act now, speeding through the twisting valley
roads with all the skill he could muster, to the extent that he had forgotten
his earlier worries. Where the road was unbroken he would power around
the turns in well controlled oversteer, and where the sections were potholed
he saw them as devious chicanes to be mastered. He left the ground briefly
going over one of the old wooden bridges and later ascertained that the MG
would still hit 110 on the long stretch between the old Hanlin and Grove
farms. He was just beginning to wind down when he saw it, there in his
mirror, a late-model MSV with hand-painted designs covering most of its
body (one of the few modifications allowed on post-1980 cars). Buzz hoped it
was a tourist or a wayward driver who got lost looking for a gas station. But
now the MSV driver had spotted the MG, and with a whoosh of a well
muffled, well cleansed exhaust he started the chase . . .
  It hadn't taken long for the less responsible element among drivers to
discover that their new MSVs could inflict great damage on an older car and
go unscathed themselves. As a result some drivers would go looking for the
older cars in secluded areas, bounce them off the road or into a bridge
abutment, and then speed off undamaged, relieved of whatever frustrations
cause this kind of behavior. Police seldom patrolled these out-of-the-way
places, their attentions being required more urgently elsewhere, and so it
became a great sport for some drivers.
  Buzz wasn't too worried yet. This had happened a few times before,
and unless the MSV driver was an exceptionally good one, the MG could be
called upon to elude the other driver without too much difficulty. Yet
something bothered him about this gaudy MSV in his mirror, but what was
it? Planning carefully, Buzz let the other driver catch up to within a dozen
yards or so, and then suddenly shot off down a road to the right. The MSV
driver stood on his brakes, skidding 400 feet down the road, made a
lumbering U-turn and set off once again after the roadster. The MG had
gained a quarter mile in this manner and Buzz was thankful for the radial
tires and front and rear anti-roll bars he had put on the car a few years
back. He was flying along the twisting road, downshifting, cornering,
accelerating and all the while planning his route ahead. He was confident
that if he couldn't outrun the MSV then he could at least hold it off for
another hour or more, at which time the MSV would be quite low on gas. But
what was it that kept bothering him about the other car?
  They reached a straight section of the road and Buzz opened it up all the way
and held it. The MSV was quite a way back but not so far that Buzz couldn't
distinguish the tall antenna standing up from the back bumper. Antenna! Not
police, but perhaps a Citizen's Band radio in the MSV? He quaked slightly
and hoped it was not. The straight stretch was coming to an end now and
Buzz put off braking to the last fraction of a second and then sped through a
75-mph right-hander, gaining ten more yards on the MSV. But less than a
quarter mile ahead another huge MSV was slowly pulling across the road
and to a stop. It was a CB set. The other driver had a cohort in the chase.
Now Buzz was in trouble. He stayed on the gas until within a few hundred
feet when he banked hard and feinted passing to the left. The MSV crawled
in that direction and Buzz slipped by on the right. bouncing heavily over a
stone on the shoulder. The two MSVs set off in hot pursuit, almost colliding
in the process. Buzz turned right at the first crossroad and then made a quick
left, hoping to be out of sight of his pursuers, and in fact he traveled several
minutes before spotting one of them on the main road parallel to his lane. At
the same time the other appeared in the mirror from around the last comer.
By now they were beginning to climb the hills on the far side of the valley
and Buzz pressed on for all he was worth, praying that the straining engine
would stand up. He lost track of one MSV when the main road turned away,
but could see the other one behind him on occasion. Climbing the old
Monument Road, Buzz hoped to have time to get over the top and down the
old dirt road to the right, which would be too narrow for his pursuers.
Climbing, straining, the water temperature rising, using the entire road,
flailing the shift lever back and forth from 3rd to 4th, not touching the
brakes but scrubbing off the necessary speed in the corners, reaching the
peak of the mountain where the lane to the old fire tower went off to the left
. . . but coming up the other side of the hill was the second MSV he had lost
track of! No time to get to his dirt road. He made a panicked turn left onto
the fire tower road but spun on some loose gravel and struck a tree a
glancing blow with his right fender. He came to a stop on the opposite side of
the road. the engine stalled. Hurriedly he pushed the starter while the
overheated engine slowly came back into life. He engaged 1st gear and sped
off up the road, just as the first MSV turned the corner. Dazed though he
was, Buzz had the advantage of a very narrow road lined on both sides with
trees, and he made the most of it. The road twisted constantly and he stayed
in 2nd with the engine between 5000 and 5500. The crash hadn't seemed to
hurt anything and he was pulling away from the MSV. But to where? It hit
him suddenly that the road dead-ended at the fire tower, no place to go but
back . . .
  Still he pushed on and at the top of the hill drove quickly to the far end of
the clearing, turned the MG around and waited. The first MSV came flying
into the clearing and aimed itself at the sitting MG. Buzz grabbed reverse
gear, backed up slightly to feint, stopped, and then backed up at full speed.
The MSV, expecting the MG to change direction, veered the wrong way and
slid to a stop up against a tree. Buzz was off again, down the fire tower road,
and the undamaged MSV set off in pursuit. Buzz's predicament was
unenviable. He was going full tilt down the twisting blacktop with a solid
MSV coming up at him. and an equally solid MSV coming down after him. On
he went, however, braking hard before each turn and then accelerating back
up to 45 in between. Coming down to a particularly tight turn, he saw the
MSV coming around it from the other direction and stood on the brakes. The
sudden extreme pressure in the brake lines was too much for the rear brake
line which had been twisted somewhat in his spin, and it broke. robbing Buzz
of his brakes. In sheer desperation he pulled the handbrake as tightly as it
would go and rammed the gear lever into 1st, popping the clutch as he did
so. The back end locked solid and broke away, spinning him off the side of
the road and miraculously into some bushes, which brought the car to a halt.
As he was collecting his senses, Buzz saw the two MSVs, unable to stop in
time, ram each other head on at over 40 mph.
  It was a long time before Buzz had the MG rebuilt to its original
pristine condition of before the chase. It was an even longer time before he
went back into the valley for a drive. Now it was only in the very early
hours of the day when most people were still sleeping off the effects of the
good life. And when he saw in the papers that the government would soon
be requiring cars to be capable of withstanding 75-mph headon collisions, he
stopped driving the MG altogether.


Date: Mon, 20 Aug 90 08:31 EST
From: "I'll see you on the Dark Side of the Moon." 
Subject: Alex, the universe, and everything

Greetings RUSHans --

        In the Aug 18th issue (yes, I'm having problems getting the list),

[ If you have problems receiving Digests, feel free to drop a line to the
  administrivia account.  I receive as many bounce messages as incoming mail,
  most of which are 'delayed' messages.  Vee haff vays of checking zeees 
  tzings!  :-)                                                   :rush-mgr ] asks a number of things.  One of said things is why
isn't Alex on anyone's list of great guitarists.  Have you all forgotten "the
analog kid?"  or how about "Cygnus X-1, Book II: Hemispheres"  The list goes
on.  One really must think about Alex directly to find his greatness,
otherwise, he gets lost among to glitz and glamour or other guitarists ("Like a
teardrop in the ocean, a diamond in the waste!")
        About Vangelis, Steve (and I think it would probobly be easier to TELL
you, after all we ARE roommates), but I personally think that Kitaro, or maybe
Yanni are a bit better than Vangelis.  There is more differentiating styles
incorporated into the two of them.  Ok, allright, enough about New Age.  Stick
to Rush.....

    "May Cthulhu's tentacles never do the dance of happiness on your brain."

Adam Dickson                            |       Nuke us if you like!
Wright State University                 |          We don't care!
Dayton, Ohio                            |            Actually, we encourage it!


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