Rush, "Far Cry": A disappointingly familiar sound

It's unusual to review a single song, but right now all we have from the new Rush album Snakes and Arrows is the single "Far Cry." And if this is what I can expect from the album, I must say that this might well be the first Rush album I don't run out and buy the week of its release since, oh, 2112.

I've heard "Far Cry" a number of times now on various outlets, and it doesn't sound like anything I haven't heard before. It's got Neal's angsty youth-versus-reality theme, it's got Alex's guitar, it's got Geddy's ever-deepening, ever-weakening voice as age creeps up on all three of them.

There's just no there, there. And I can't really recommend it.

I guess what's really sad is that I keep wanted the musicianship of Rush to be more interesting, to branch out. No evidence of that in "Far Cry." If your idea of great Rush is pieces like "YYZ" or "Gangster of Boats," I'll just have to re-recommend Maximum Indifference and their album The Transmutations of Supposed Angels Or Beings That Were Once Girls, which is basically fifty minutes of the finest instrumental rock in the Rush tradition ever.

Public nuisances

I didn't get any writing done today. Okay, that's not true. I got about a 1,000 words today. I'm not entirely dissatisfied, although I'm not sure where I'm going with this one. I think I've found the couple I'm going to put through the awful wringer of a breakup, just to see if I can write it, and it's all Dan Savage's fault for pointing me in that direction.

I could have written 2,000 words but for a woman who came onto the crowded bus and sat next to me. "Whatcha' doin!?" she shouted.

I took my headphones out of my ears. "I'm not deaf."

"You're not!? Why are you wearing those!? What are you doing with that, you know, that thing?" She pointed at my laptop.

"Writing porn," I said.

"Yeah? Can I read!?"

"No," I said, switching over to hacking code: a Word 2000 HTML demangler as part of my e-book toolchain.

"Oops," she said. "Better hide this." She reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a 40oz Olde English 800. She didn't open it but slipped it into her purse. It was obviously her second. Maybe her third.

She proceeded to be loud the entire freakin' trip. She revealed that she worked for the Federal Social Security Administration. She pointed loudly, "That's the church where my friend goes!" She discussed her last crappy boyfriend. She made everyone uncomfortable. A real winner, that one.