BU2B2
Background and Commentary
Quicklime
“Almost reminiscent in feel and effect of ‘Eleanor Rigby.'”—Rob Palladino, Audio Times
“Not an actual song per se, but a haunting segue built on cellos and acoustic guitars, with Lee’s minimalist vocal evoking a moonlit gospel meeting.”—Joe Bosso, MusicRadar
A short little interlude, this is more akin to an orchestral remix of its bigger brother. A rather strange piece in the context of the album, yet it’s not entirely out of place. At a little over 90 seconds though, it has gone before you’ve had time to ponder the question.
“—Dominic Hemy, The Digital Fix
“This is a moment that’s integral to the story for Neil,” Alex says in a MusicRadar interview. “He really wanted to have it in there. The problem was, we didn’t know how to approach it musically. Ged had done a vocal with some other stuff that we’d written, but he wasn’t happy with it, and neither was I. I decided to stay late one night, and I pulled out all the music and just kept the vocal. I listened to it a bunch of times, and then I created something more rhythmic––it was less musical but added a lot of tension. By the time that we got to developing it, the acoustic guitars that I originally had on it were replaced by strings. We put on some bass pedals and stuff like that, but overall we kept it all quite simple. It’s like a short chapter.”
“‘BU2B2’ is the first or clearest indication of what is probably the most uneasy use of string arrangements on a hard rock record, which will play out further come closer ‘The Garden.’ Real 16-piece (I think) section, at the hands of David Campbell. No drums, Eno/Glass-like, haunting, which contrasts jarringly to the album’s party rocker, ‘Wish Them Well,’ which aggravated Neil to no end in the bread-making. Odd, ‘cos this one rocks most forthrightly, despite a Byrdsy tinge to the chorus. Calling ‘Stick It Out’ the heaviest Rush song becomes hard lifting under the weight of much of this album.”—Martin Popoff, BraveWords
Lyrics
THOSE FATEFUL WORDS. “What do you lack?” spark an inner monologue about all that I have lost. No more bound1ess optimism, no more faith in greater powers, too much pain, too much grief, and too much disillusion. Despite all that, I realize the great irony that although I now believe only in the exchange of love, even that little faith follows the childhood reflex that “I was brought up to believe.”
I was brought up to believe
Belief has failed me now
The bright glow of optimism
Abandoned me somehow
Belief has failed me now
Life goes from bad to worse
No philosophy consoles me
In a clockwork universe
Life goes from bad to worse
I still choose to live
Find a measure of love and laughter
And another measure to give
I still choose to live
And give, even while I grieve
Though the balance tilts against me
I was brought up to believe
rush vault 