“Moving Pictures” by Rush

The Canadian trio's commercial apex celebrates its 45th anniversary.

“Moving Pictures” by Rush

This album review dissects the prog rock outfit’s commercial and creative peak for its 45th anniversary.

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Genre: Prog Rock, Hard Rock

Label: Anthem

Release Date: February 12, 1981

Vibe: 🚚 🖼️

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👉 Click the GIF to stream the album on your favorite platform

To sift through old reviews of Rush records from the 1970s is to read critics appraising their sound based on what’s missing. Not as dark and moody as Pink Floyd, not as out-there as Yes, not as “good” as Led Zeppelin. The latter was a particularly shortsighted comparison, as it shortchanged everyone involved. Geddy Lee has always had more growl in this trademark shriek than Robert Plant. Alex Lifeson’s guitar solos are, by his own admission, somewhat simpler than Page’s, but, in several cases, manage to be more emotive. And the late Neil Peart, a man who’s often cited, alongside John Bonham, as one of the greatest rock drummers who ever lived, is far more of a calculating technician than Bonzo. In his prime, he had power and speed to spare, no question, but he also had this taste for complex, multi-section compositions that eventually blossomed into these unparalleled displays of musicianship. Tracks like 1977’s “Xanadu” or 1978’s “La Villa Strangiato” are testaments not only to Peart’s command at the kit, but also to how he quickly became the engine that gave Rush increasing momentum in the rock community. That he also became the group’s primary songwriter, blending elements of sci-fi and fantasy with socially conscious themes, is enough to make anyone’s head spin.

The dense, theatrical nature of their music separates Rush from any other act in the classic rock pantheon. They are their own beast, for better and, in some cases, worse. There are stretches in their career when they couldn’t get out of their own way stylistically, allowing the intensity and daring to slowly seep out of their music. That said, at their peak, on 1981’s Moving Pictures, they were untouchable. The trio’s interplay is the tightest it’s ever sounded on record, and the arrangements straddle that line between AOR and prog perfectly. There’s more than enough on this album that will be accessible to casual or first-time Rush listeners, and the same goes for those who yearn for the longer, more drawn-out epics of yore. In a way, it’s also one of the best transition albums ever created. The implication of the compositions and sequencing is that Rush had, after nearly a decade, taken their prog-rock world-building as far as it could go. The next frontier to conquer was the AOR airwaves, and these songs set the standard for nearly everything the band would produce after this point until Peart’s death in 2020.

Moving Pictures was recorded at Le Studio Morin-Heights, tucked away in Quebec’s gorgeous Laurentian mountains. For over a decade, beginning with the session for 1980’s Permanent Waves and ending with 1993’s Counterparts, it was Rush’s creative home base. Lifeson called it “a magical place,” explaining that, “Every time we went there, we went back to what we liked to think of as ‘our rooms’. It had that warm familiarity.” Lee added: “We had been recording in Europe before we went there to make Permanent Waves, and all of a sudden, we’re in this really beautiful studio room and it has these giant picture windows and this insane view […] Le Studio was a revelation in the way we worked as a band; it was such a charming spot.” For Pictures, they experimented with new recording techniques for the first time, including a pressure zone mic that was taped to Peart’s chest while he played (you can see it here) and mixing everything down on a digital mastering machine, an early example of this tech being pushed as hard as it could go back then. At Peart’s suggestion, they also put microphones in the studio driveway and had crew members and staffers walk up and down, shouting whatever they could think of, which was then overdubbed over and over again to build the angry mob intro for “Witch Hunt.”

The external influences are also more diverse than they had been previously. As new wave, krautrock, and the White man’s reggae/dub sound (see the Police’s entire catalog) began to tug at the hearts of FM radio programmers in Canada and the U.S., Rush clearly decided it was time to evolve and mature past what their fan base probably thought they were capable of. That trend began in earnest before this album was recorded, like Peart’s island-adjacent breakdown in the final third of “The Spirit of Radio,” but it returns with a much more concentrated, focused zeal here. Lifeson’s Police-esque up-down strumming gives an unexpected lift to “Vital Signs,” while the exceptional instrumental cut, “YYZ,” settles into a muscular prog groove that’s nothing less than addicting. It’s a sneakily high-concept piece, often featuring lengthy, mind-blowing solos from the band members when performed live. But here, in its four-minute form, comes pre-assembled for maximum impact right out of the box.

Honestly, the same could be said for the entire first side of this LP, which is one certified banger after another. Along with “YYZ,” you have “Limelight,” one of their most commercial songs, a distinction I mean as a compliment. That opening riff from Lifeson is a fantastic hook, Peart’s tom rolls rumble like a jet taxiing on the runway, and Lee’s vocal is still one of my favorites in their catalog. It’s worth mentioning how earnest a depiction of celebrity the lyrics are, breaking down the work it takes to navigate fame as a socially awkward individual without dipping into ungrateful whining. “Red Barchetta” is ostensibly about a dude riding around in an antique Ferrari, but, because it spouts from Peart’s pen, it’s also about escaping the claws of futuristic government control. That symbolism, of creative freedom triumphing over a repulsive oligarchy, ran through much of the drummer’s songwriting and, in my view, only got darker as he and his bandmates got older and the world around them got bleaker.

Alright, enough stalling. “Tom Sawyer,” the timeless classic rock staple, has aged into much more than simply the most gripping track on an album full of them. It’s one of the most impressive and, especially for Peart, intricate compositions in their discography. Lee plays both the bass and Oberheim OB-X, the first of the company’s series of analog synthesizers, a model also used by Queen, Styx, Madonna, and Prince at various points during that decade. That opening sweep gives you this guttural low-end sound queue that sounds like Vangelis scoring a Terminator movie. The more melodic synth parts pair so well with the rhythm and lead guitar sections that it becomes one mass, moving as one, darting in and out of Peart’s towering tom and snare patterns. When played live, Lee has been known to play the bass and synth parts simultaneously via a Moog Taurus foot pedal setup. To have that kind of coordination and command of melody … I mean, that’s why Rush and I’m just a guy writing about them.

In the Rush canon, Moving Pictures is an exquisitely executed reinvention. It’s disciplined in its approach but hungry to push its distinctive brand of prog rock forward. The playing is airtight. The ideas are big but, from a songwriting perspective, legible for the average rock fan. It still sounds like a band proving something to itself, or at least before any pandering to radio tastemakers. Can we call it prog without overindulgence? Mainstream staples without compromise? It’s a rare album where ambition is served by the studio experimentation and technical mastery, rather than the latter swallowing it whole. Rush would change up their sound several times after this, but they never needed to top themselves again.