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Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame induction ceremony, Los Angeles, 2014: Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson both agree that the best time to have been in Rush was in the early 1980s, around the time of Permanent Waves and Moving Pictures.
“A Farewell To Kings and Hemispheres were both intense records to make, and we felt like we were starting to repeat ourselves,” says Lee. “We decided, ‘OK, we’re going to change what we do and not get tied up in all these large ‘C’ concepts.’ And it freed us up. The music on Permanent Waves, to me, is really joyful.” He laughs. “Well, as joyful as we get.”
“We’d gone from being an opening act to a middle act to headliner – we were building, building, building,” says Lifeson. “We were bringing in more people that were familiar with our music. With Moving Pictures it was 10 times what the previous period was. It was a really exciting time to be part of.”
That period – bridging the beloved prog epics of the 1970s and the more divisive synth era of the 1980s – was more than just the point where Rush kicked to the next level. It was also a big middle finger to the critics who had spent much of the previous decade crucifying Rush for their perceived sins, mostly musical but sometimes political.
“Of course that stuff hurts,” admits Lee. “You try to inure yourself against the bad press: ‘Well, you shouldn’t read too much into what they say, there are lots of cheering fans out there...’ But some part of you always wants to be liked. And some of the criticism aimed at us seemed unusually...”
Lifeson: “Nasty.”
“Not just nasty,” says Lee, “but out of context. Some of it I get: ‘OK, it’s not your bag.’ But all the bullshit political stuff...”
He’s referring to the accusation that Rush were ‘fascists,’ sparked by the fact that Peart’s lyrics for 2112 were inspired by libertarian author Ayn Rand – an especially egregious claim given the suffering Lee’s Jewish parents endured at the hands of the Nazis.
“I can laugh about it all now,” he says. “Especially the stuff about my voice. I’ve been called everything you can imagine: the damned howling in Hades, Mickey Mouse that swallowed razor blades.”
Around 15 or 16 years ago, something strange happened. Rush became cool. Not just cool in the rock world, but cool in the real world, too. Everybody from the Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl and Rage Against The Machine’s Tom Morello to Hollywood stars such as Paul Rudd, Jack Black and the guys behind South Park suddenly began shouting about what a brilliant band they were. Rolling Stone – a magazine that had poured more scorn on them than most in the 1970s – stuck them on the cover. Even the cultural gatekeepers at the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame deigned to unchain their doors and let them in.
“Yeah, we were kind of cynical about it until the induction night,” says Lee of the latter. “There were 4,000 people in that room and 3,800 of them were Rush fans. [Then-Rolling Stone editor and Hall Of Fame boss] Jann Wenner went up to talk about us. All he said was, ‘From Toronto, Canada...’, and before he could finish the sentence, the place went fucking nuts. You have to have some kind of hard heart not to be moved by that. We went from being cynical to being grateful and humbled.”
Lee leans forward on the sofa and fixes Prog with a stare. “And I never swallowed razor blades.”
Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, Cleveland, 2025: The night before the announcement went out that Rush were reforming, Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson were being interviewed by Washington Post journalist Geoff Edgers at the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame in Cleveland. The crowd that night weren’t expecting any big surprises – though the fact that they had been required to sign an NDA might have seemed suspicious to anyone who was paying attention.
“We were having this chat, and in the middle of it, he asked us, ‘So, will you guys ever tour again?’” says Lee. “And Alex and I looked at each other and we said, ‘Well... we’re going out in 2026.’ And the crowd laughed. And then they realised we weren’t kidding, and they just melted down.”
So who was the first musician to tap you up for tickets? Dave Grohl? Jack Black? “Dave reached out about a week later,” says Lee. “He was... effusive.” “ Chad Smith, Danny Carey,” says Lifeson with a laugh. “I don’t know. There were so many.”
If the news of Rush’s return was a fabulous shock, the announcement of who’d be drumming for them was only marginally less surprising. The person tasked with filling Neil Peart’s seemingly unfillable shoes is Anika Nilles, best known as a member of Jeff Beck’s band.
We won’t be playing for more than two hours and 20 minutes. But if you come back the next night, 40% of the songs will be different
Alex Lifeson
It was an unexpected choice on the face of it. Nilles is hugely respected in drumming circles, but not widely known outside of it. Today, Lee and Lifeson both insist they didn’t consider anyone else – not Danny Carey, Chad Smith, Mike Portnoy or any of the other big names thrown around in conjunction with Rush over the years.
“I love Danny; he’d be a fantastic guy to do this with,” says Lee. “Chad Smith is a great pal – he loves playing with us and we love playing with him. But in my mind, I was looking for someone who didn’t have those associations. I wanted someone from a different world.
“And Anika turned out to be perfect. She had the goods. She can really play. Her personality was so easy; she’s so great to work with. And she’s not afraid of the scrutiny.”
“I remember having a conversation with my friend Les,” he continues, referring to Les Claypool of Primus, whose own drummer had recently left. “He said, ‘Yeah, we have 5,000 people apply for the Primus job.’ And when he heard about Annika, he called me and said, ‘What? You went for one!’”
London, 2026: The first part of the biggest comeback tour of the decade doesn’t start for another six months. It’s unlikely that Rush are going to give much away about their plans, but let’s try.
Have you started rehearsing yet? Lee: “Yes.”
How are you feeling about it? Lee: “Good.”
You’ve said you’ve been rehearsing 38 songs. Lee: “It’s 39 as of yesterday.”
What’s the song you’ve added? Lee (smiling): “I can’t tell you.”
What about the other songs? Lee: “I can’t tell you that either!”
I can’t explain why we mean so much to so many people. The music is part of it, and the negative press galvanised people’s love of what we did. Of course, Neil’s lyrics speak to a lot of people
Geddy Lee
Are you playing the hits? Throwing in a few curveballs? Lee: “We’re trying to cover as many records as we can and have some variety. We’re playing a lot of the songs that people want to hear, but there are some songs that we haven’t played in a really long time.”
Lifeson: “We’re not playing 39 songs a night, I can guarantee you that. We won’t be playing for more than two hours and 20 minutes. But if you come back the next night, 40% of the songs will be different. And the same the night after that. And the night after that.”
Do you see the touring extending beyond this new set of dates you have announced? Lee: “Don’t know.”
Do you want it to? Lee: “Let’s see how we’re feeling.”
Lifeson: “Let’s see how our bodies are doing.”
Will this lead to new Rush music? Lee: “Well, we started this off by jamming, so it’s possible. But let’s see if we can stand each other after a year of this.”
Lifeson: “Or if we can still stand!”
Really, it’s a bit late in the day for Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson to have another falling out. They tried that all those years ago when Lee was kicked out of the band, and look how that turned out.
Instead, those two kids who bonded over a typing class and marijuana have stuck together like glue for 60 years, and the strange little band they built over that time has become something unique and special.
“I can’t explain why we mean so much to so many people,” says Lee. “The music is part of it, and the negative press we got galvanised people’s love of what we did. Of course, Neil’s lyrics speak to a lot of people – they’ve gone through alienation, they’ve gone through loss. And we’re very honest about what we do. We’re not pretending to be anything we’re not. We’re not putting on makeup and going out onstage in high heels.”
“Well...” says Lifeson, inevitably grabbing the last word, “we still might.”
