Objectivist Music Review: Rush - 2112

If you've ever asked the question of whether Objectivist bands or artists exist, you've likely received Rush as a response a time or two. Mainly, this is a reference to a particular work by Rush: their album 2112 -- specifically, the 7 part suite by the same name contained therein.  

The suite tells the story of a galaxy ruled by the "Priests of the Temples of Syrinx," who control every facet of life, and the ensuing struggle of an individual against this totalitarian rule.

In relation to the plot, Neil Peart, author of the lyrics, credits "the genius of Ayn Rand" for the broad parallels between her novel Anthem and the suite.  Well, not broad; take Anthem, substitute a guitar for electricity, substitute the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx for the World Council of Scholars, then remove all of Anthem's elements of depth, suspense and intrigue in favor of an accelerated, cursory, single-act idea, and replace the hero with a kind of childish, easily-disappointed pushover, and voila!  You've 2112.

So it's bad, then?  No!  It's actually pretty entertaining.  Be forewarned, 2112 is definitely an album of its era (1976).  There's guitars swimming in spring reverb, an anything-but-subservient rhythm section that would rather be on equal footing with the lead, and the wailing vocalist characteristic of every progressive rock group of the day.  And Geddy Lee's stratospherically high voice will either represent the whining leaf-blower to your migraine or the pinnacle of rock vocal prowess, depending on your, shall we say, sense of life. 

There are definitely some fun moments, like when the protagonist discovers the guitar and we experience the first bumbling jangles on the open strings evolve into a chord progression.  It's hard for anyone who remembers picking up a guitar for the first time, invariably having done the very same thing, not to smile there.  And the final phrase of the album is irrefutably iconic.

But it's just such a shame that a lot of this work is so thin.  For a plot driven suite, there's proportionally, quite a lot of non-thematic, plot-less, jam-oriented moments.  The extremely cursory plot has a resolution that's so abbreviated that it feels almost silly.  And musically -- save for the first 50 seconds and the final track -- there's little relevant connection to the plot; should a lofty concept suite sound a lot like most other rock albums of the mid 70s?  I don't think so.  Lastly, the lyrics are lucid, sure, but the perfect rhyme scheme and simplistic language put them closer to the oft-neglected genre of galactic nursery song.

And then there's the fact that the ideas here aren't wholly Objectivist; the plot's anti-totalitarian, but so are scores of other non-Objectivist works.  Problematically, a few moments in the album put it distinctly outside the realm of legitimate Objectivist works; that revelation comes in the form of an oracle in a dream seems actively contrary to Objectivist ideas.  And if you think that qualm's nitpicking, ignore this if you don't want the plot spoiled, that the hero lays down and dies without a fight after having been rejected once is shamefully and incontrovertibly non-Objectivist.

On the whole, it's worth a listen, even if it's not the epic, Objectivist anthem to Anthem you were hoping it'd be.

We the Living: Objectivist Music?

If you're going to rip a novel title in entirety and commit a level of intellectual property rights infringement, you couldn't pick a more ironic source than a novel by the greatest champion of property rights. 

In an act of unconscionable unoriginality, We the Living (the band) lifted their name directly from Ayn Rand's novel.  The band claims to be influenced by Ayn Rand; apparently borderline plagiarism is their homage?  Unfortunate.  Unless the reference is to the novel's setting in post-revolutionary Russia and, like the Red Army, the band thieves and appropriates without consent.  In which case, spot on guys! 

Seriously, despite the blatant bite, the band name could legitimately have been a well-meaning (but poorly expressed) act of deference.  The real question now: is there any pay-off from the band in the form of Objectivism-inspired material?

These guys?

You'll find lyrics identical or strikingly similar in content to this throughout the lot of the band's works:

"This is the sound of you falling in love,
Can you feel it?"

Basically, the kind of vague sentimentality that would make even the most inane pop artists roll their eyes.

Then there's the self-pitying whimpering idiomatic to the indie genre where the band seems to have found their fan-base:

"I wanna tell you about me,
Let you know who I am.
But you don't care."

A song about falling in love with a person who doesn't care about you at all?  That might actually be the opposite of Objectivist lyrics.

And musically, what're these guys like?  No need to describe them.  You've already heard this band.  Even if you've never listened to a single We the Living song, you've heard every song they've written a hundred times over.  So if you're curious about this band just on the name alone, save yourself the time and the disappointment: We the Living (the band) is an uninspired mess of recycled ideas. 

If you just can't help yourself, here's a sample:





As luck would have it, the band broke up in 2010 citing a lack of passion to produce music.  Burning out after only 3 years of producing generic songs with repetitive concepts, one has to wonder: did they have any passion to begin with? 

The bad news is that these guys don't create Objectivism-inspired music in any capacity.  The good news is that at least they won't be associating wretched nonsense with one of the finest works of literature any longer.