The Greatest Song Ever Written

I wanted to close out Prog week with a short celebration of the greatest song ever written. There are a lot of songs that have probably earned that title over the years but today I narrow my focus on one shining single that towers over all others like a giant space turtle towers over other monsters. My choice for greatest song ever written is Rush's masterwork "Subdivisions."

It begins with a pulsing synth chord, possibly played by robots for an ampitheater full of robots. The sound is insistent, cold and clinical and perfectly sets the stage for the work as a whole. If you are not familiar with this song, let me explain a little. The song appears on Rush's 1982 album Signals and to me it perfectly encapsulates the early 80s world of mall culture, the birth of video games and suburban sprawl. I was 5 when this song came out and it immediately transports me back to that time of scuzzy guys with scuzzy moustaches parading around in worn blue jeans and no shirts through the hazy post-70s fall out of the early Reagan administration. By this point, Neal Peart had moved away from the sci-fi poetry of Rush's earlier albums and was writing more direct lyrics concerning the damage humans do to nature and to each other. The title refers to both suburban subdivisions as well as those that separate students in high school. I know, it's almost overwhelmingly deep but give them the benefit of the doubt. "Subdivisions" seems to be an autobiographical tale about a boy growing increasingly uncomfortable in the world he finds himself, looking desperately for a way out and finding no quick fix. He can only wish for a relatively painless end to the monotony and boredom of the conservative suburban life that surrounds him. As an escape from this living death, Neal turned to fantasy and a pretty massive obsession with drumming. Our protagonist in the song, who most every Rush fan will relate to in one way or another, finds no home in the various cliques in school or in the ticky tacky sameness of the suburban prison he finds himself in. Apparently, there is no D&D club at this high school. So the search for connection continues into the city but the busyness and empty distractions there provide no real solace or solutions. For me, this kind of adolescent uneasiness and unhappiness has never been articulated (musically and lyrically) as absolutely perfectly as in this song. The authoritarian voice bloodlessly repeating "Subdivisions," the gently hostile singing of Geddy Lee as he spits out the lines "In the basement bars/ In the backs of cars/ Be cool or be cast out" and the emotionless keyboard lines all work together to create an incredibly brilliant exploration of the horrors of modern life and the sometimes fruitless search for relief.

To me, rock and roll is not (solely) about greasers and leather jackets or stoners and shirts with fringe or satan and his minions; it is about finding another voice out there in the wilderness who shares your ideas and ideals and makes you feel a little less alone. I didn't discover this song until well after high school and by that time, I had already found my musical saviours to get me through the absurdity of my teenage years. Rush encapsulate that feeling of reaching out for just one person to share your journey with so even though I'm no longer 15 I can still relate to that common experience of bristling at your surroundings and hoping for escape.

If you made it this far, you might as well check out the video. Even if you find nothing here to latch onto and you wonder how such a terrible song could mean so much to me, at least you can enjoy Geddy Lee's odd, odd face and some great footage of vintage arcade action.