Best Album You’ve Never Heard And The Threads Behind It: Queensrush, The Warning

Jos. von Weinerhaus

So, The Goat tells us the other day that we need to meet Joe, and that he’d be a most excellent addition to the site. After exchanging some emails back and forth, Joe proved himself worthy of being a columnist for GSA. He’ll be checking in often, and man, does he ever have an opinion.

Back in college, my roommates and I had a sweet record player hooked up to two speakers that were about half a metric Dio tall each. We were friends with the people who lived above us, which usually meant that at any time I could turn my room into a tank and crank some Bolt Thrower. At some point in our drunken madness, my roommates and I put on Queensrÿche’s The Warning but we hadn’t realized that the record player had been set to 45 RPMs.

What we found out is if you play this album at that speed, it turns into a god damn Rush album.

You can turn the pitch knob down if you’re more of a fan of early ‘80s Geddy Lee than the mid-‘70s Geddy. After looking at the insert, I drew another parallel between the two bands. All of these dudes are sinfully unfortunate looking. It was like both groups were deadlocked in a competition to have the broadest ratio of best music to least fuckable band.

By the time the mid-1980s hit, Rush were caught between a prog and a synth place. These nerds never knew how to dress like rock stars to begin with, but now they were battling the new wave fashion and the start of glam.

Geddy Lee’s cockatoo mullet was clearly the most egregious offender among the power trio, while Neil Peart looked like he was ready to bow down to David Gahan’s belt line more eagerly than Martin Gore. (Nothing wrong with that at all; he’s got a smooth voice and “Master and Servant” gives me a rise every now and then too.) Just sayin…

As far as appearance goes, the gents of ‘Rÿch really did look like Queens of the Reich.

Eddie Jackson looks like his name is more suitable being Michael rather than Eddie, which is funny because he now has a darker complexion than in the early days. Scott Rockenfield was trying to be the best Tommy Lee he could with that S&M cage kit that probably has its own safe word; that word being “Geoff.” Ah, yes, on to Geoff Tate.

The since-turned nightmare-muppet with a shitty goatee used to rock a haircut that could have landed him Tim Curry’s role in “Rocky Horror.” Can we mention that Cruella de Ville coat/no shirt combo he strutted on the Live in Tokyo release?

At one time the whole band used to be decked out in some quasi-prog asstrocadet space suits that look like they were made by watering a single piece of nylon string with the sweat from Ace Frehley’s codpiece. Fuck Mars, these dudes were planning a manned mission to Uranus and all back in the ‘80s. That’s progressive as fuck, if you ask me.

Oh, right, this is about the album. It sounds like other albums when you speed them up — higher vocals, tinnier guitars, and faster drums. I mean, it does sound like Rush at 45 RPM, but who the fuck is gonna sit through that entire thing?

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