Rush spend much of Test for Echo looking at people who can see and hear each other without getting much closer. Television turns trouble into entertainment. Computer networks promise companionship. Everyday differences become dividing lines. Meanwhile, the three musicians seem to catch every move the others make. How does an album about disconnection make playing together sound so natural?
Released September 10, 1996, Test for Echo was co-produced by Rush and Peter Collins, recorded by Clif Norrell and mixed by Andy Wallace. Alex Lifeson’s guitar fills much of the space, but the distortion only tells part of the story. Acoustic strings add definition beneath the electric parts, and Geddy Lee’s bass has enough bite to remain a separate voice. Lifeson described building acoustic rhythms around Neil Peart’s hi-hat and ride cymbal, then letting the electrics work through them. Listen beneath the chords, and those smaller movements become apparent.
The title track puts that coordination to uncomfortable use. Ringing guitar figures give way to clipped, distorted passages, while changes in the rhythm prevent the vocal from settling into one pattern. Lee moves between the short title refrain and crowded descriptions of televised crime. Peart and co-lyricist Pye Dubois fill the verses with cameras, spectators, and courtroom appearances. Their subjects are being watched constantly, yet little understanding comes from all that attention. The abrupt musical changes suit the barrage of images, with each section bringing another angle on the spectacle.
“Driven” takes the question of control somewhere more immediate. Its low riff repeats insistently, but the bass moves within that repetition, giving the pattern more life than a straight doubling of the guitar would. Acoustic strumming briefly clears some space before the distorted figure returns. Above those clipped phrases, Lee stretches his vocal lines. The song keeps pulling between a fixed route and the urge to break away from it.
There’s more nuance in that arrangement than some of the album’s observations about people. “Half the World” matches bright strumming with an inviting melody, making its repeated divisions easy to follow. The same construction limits the lyric: people fall into opposing groups so neatly that there’s barely room for anyone caught between them. Musically, the parts overlap and complement each other. The words draw firmer boundaries.
“Virtuality” has a different problem. Lifeson’s jagged opening riff gives the song a physical presence before the chorus turns toward the promise of online companionship. The melody opens up, but the period internet vocabulary draws attention to itself. You can hear the effort to describe something new. Underneath it sits a familiar wish to reach another person, and Lee sings the chorus with an eagerness that keeps the song from becoming a detached commentary on technology.
“Resist” gives that wish more room. Its measured pace and ringing accompaniment let Lee finish his phrases without competing with another rush of information. The vocal rises, then eases back. Peart’s lyric considers compromise and uncertainty without pretending either is easy. Where other songs observe crowds or sort people into categories, this one sounds like someone working out what they can accept in a conversation.
The answer to Test for Echo’s central question is in how closely the musicians listen to one another. Lifeson’s acoustic rhythms meet Peart’s cymbals; Lee finds movement inside the repeated figure of “Driven.” Their individual parts make sense together without becoming identical. The lyrics don’t always allow people that much complexity. “Resist” does, bringing the writing closer to the patient give-and-take already happening between the instruments. On an album full of broadcasts and messages, it sounds like a conversation someone might actually have.
Written by Rob Joncas for DeadNoteMedia.
Artist information and music courtesy of the band.
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