Took On the 80s and Won PROG Magazine - April 2023, Issue #139 The Analog Kid: Dave Everley Image: Deborah Samuel Artwork: Hugh Syme |
The launch of the Space Shuttle
Columbia on April 12, 1981
was the biggest leap forward
in the Space Race since the
Moon landing 12 years earlier.
This was the very first reusable
spacecraft, able to orbit the planet and
return safely to Earth in one piece after
its mission was complete.
Several NASA employees and a group
of specially invited guests had gathered
at 7am in a private viewing area within
the grounds of the Kennedy Space
Center on Merritt Island, Florida to
watch billions of dollars’ worth of
technology and two flesh-and-blood
astronauts be fired into orbit. And
among that group of onlookers were
the three members of Rush.
The Canadian trio were guests of
Kennedy Space Centre deputy director
Gerry Griffin, who’d given them a tour
of the facility, including the assembly
building, a room so vast it had its own
indoor cloud system. They’d also had
a cheeky go on the Space Shuttle
simulator during the tour, only for
guitarist Alex Lifeson – a qualified
pilot – to crash the computerised craft
headfirst into a swamp.
The launch of the real thing was
originally scheduled to take place two
days earlier but it had been delayed due
to technical problems. The change of
date meant that Rush had to hightail it
to Florida immediately after a show in
San Antonio, Texas, then head back
straight after to play another show in
Fort Worth. But there was no way they
were going to miss this.
And so Lifeson sat with bassist/
vocalist Geddy Lee and drummer Neil
Peart on a blanket on the viewing area’s
grass lawn, gazing over the lagoon in
front of them to the launch pad a few
kilometres away. As the countdown
began, the already electric atmosphere
began to intensify: five, four, three,
two, one… Flames billowed from the
shuttle’s booster rockets, a huge roar
swept across the lagoon, and the
Columbia lifted off.
“It was the most incredible thing
I’ve ever heard,” says Alex Lifeson now,
his voice still edged with awe. “It was
so loud – the low end rumble of the
rocket was incredible. It just screamed
off in a plume of exhaust as it rose into
the sky, and then it was gone into space
and there was this eerie quiet. In this
lagoon that was right in front of the
viewing area, these dolphins came up
and they started swimming in their
little pattern. Here we are at the peak
of human technology, and there’s such
a great example of ancient nature right
before us. The contrast was amazing.”
As the magnitude of what they had
just seen sank in, Lifeson and his
bandmates glanced around at their
fellow guests. That’s when they spotted
some familiar faces.
“We looked over and, a couple of
spots to our left, Steven Spielberg and
George Lucas were sitting on a similar
blanket,” says the guitarist. “We didn’t
know each other, but we just looked
and nodded and smiled at the whole
experience that we’d just had.”
Even the proximity of two Hollywood
A-listers paled into insignificance next
to the launch itself. Neil Peart was still
processing what they’d witnessed as he
boarded the plane they’d hired to get
them to that evening’s gig.
“I remember thinking to myself
as we flew back to Fort Worth after
a couple days without sleep, ‘We’ve
got to write a song about this!’” the
drummer and lyricist later noted
in a diary he wrote for Sounds
magazine in 1982. “It was an incredible
thing to witness, truly a once-ina-
lifetime experience.’
Rush did indeed write a song about
what they saw on that April morning.
Countdown would appear as the
propulsive closing track on their ninth
album, Signals, its build-and-release
energy mirroring the launch of the
shuttle itself. As real-life voices from
the NASA control room punctuate the
song, Peart’s words capture the wonder
and promise of the moment. ‘This
magic day when super-science/Mingles
with the bright stuff of dreams,’ sings
Geddy Lee, bringing the drummer’s
lyrics to life.
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