Anika Nilles

In a bathroom in Missouri

"It was just magical. You're part of a magical event where this incredible band is getting back together"

Back onstage last week for the first time since 2015, Rush ended the four-night opening run of their Fifty Something Tour in classic arena-rock style at the Forum in Los Angeles on Saturday, June 13th, full of fire and joy at the chance to perform again. “It’s so fun to play,” singer-bassist Geddy Lee said midway into the show. Guitarist Alex Lifeson, his close friend since they were kids, then made a joke about playing some tunes at the Sizzler around the corner from the Forum. The anxiety for any beloved rock band attempting a return after a long breakup is that time and energy have passed them by, diminishing a once-vibrant unit to nostalgia and dulled inspiration. If age and health helped send Rush into retirement a decade ago, Lee and Lifeson showed little evidence of surrender at the Forum, and played with drive and absolute assurance. The two-hour set sampled every era of the band, and included a barbed take on “The Anarchist,” from the classic trio’s final album, 2012’s Clockwork Angels. With serrated guitar riffs and Lee singing at an aggressive clip, the song carried a borderline punk energy despite its nearly seven-minute length. “Limelight,” from 1981’s Moving Pictures, was Rush distilled to its most direct, with pop hooks amid the complexity. The classic trio — Lee, Lifeson, and drummer (and primary lyricist) Neil Peart — last played together 11 years ago at this same arena, ending the 35-date R40 Tour. It was not billed as a farewell, but became one when Peart announced his retirement months later. Rush’s story then came to a seemingly definitive end in 2020 with Peart’s death from brain cancer. Hugely popular, though rarely adored by critics, Rush embodied a certain strain of prog-rock heroism from 1974’s self-titled album onward: double-neck instruments, glockenspiel, tubular bells and everything else. They were hugely influential on generations of ambitious players, from Primus to Metallica and TOOL. Individually, the surviving band members stayed active. Lee wrote a well-received memoir, 2023’s My Effin’ Life, while Lifeson recorded two albums with Envy of None. But after 40 years of work together, they remained wired to work most naturally within Rush — demonstrated at their rare onstage reunions, including a pair of 2022 tributes to Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins in London and L.A. (with Dave Grohl and TOOL’s Danny Carey among those taking turns on drums). By 2024, catching most fans by surprise, Lifeson and Lee casually announced their plan for Rush’s return to the stage. Lifeson’s hair is white now, but otherwise the pair looked much as we last saw them, Lee as ever grinning behind tinted glasses. In the drum seat was Anika Nilles, whose early appearances with Rush have won astonished praise for the younger German drummer. After first attracting attention on YouTube, she landed in Jeff Beck s final touring band in 2022, which then caught Rush’s attention. At the Forum, Nilles was a forceful but also humble presence, smiling after each song but never standing triumphantly behind the kit, leaving the spotlight entirely on Rush’s guitarist and singer-bassist. In that, she was continuing the tradition of Peart himself, who never emerged from behind his drum kit during a concert to bow or wave goodbye with his bandmates up front — that is, until his very last show in 2015. Not surprisingly, there were several moments of remembrance: film clips, anecdotes, words of tribute. “Bravado” unfurled to black-and-white images of Peart at different ages: teenager behind the kit, grown-up with heroic handlebar mustache, and finally prog elder statesman. It was a loud, somber ballad of reflection, with Nilles driving on, Lee dancing in his sneakers, while Lifeson unspooled guitar lines across the arena. For prog true believers, the deep cuts were as essential as the radio standards. So performing “A Farewell to Kings” for the first time since 1979 was more of an event for the hardcore than the always expected “Tom Sawyer.” Which explains why many fans spent hundreds (or more) a night to attend one — or even all four — of the Forum shows, with few noticeable regrets. On Saturday, strangers in vintage Rush T-shirts passed each other in the aisles with a nod or a high-five. Even arena staples like “Tom Sawyer” and “The Spirit of Radio” served as showcases for the band s technical skill beneath familiar hooks. Fan favorite “YYZ” was complex but gleeful, a display of relentless power played with genuine excitement, not detached virtuosity. Lifeson plucked a medieval folk intro on acoustic guitar for “The Trees” (from 1978’s Hemispheres) before the song erupted and Lee wailed of societal unrest amid the fauna of a forest. After another film clip in tribute to Peart, singer Aimee Mann stepped onstage to recreate her 1987 guest vocal on “Time Stand Still,” in a long white dress, bouncing on her heels beside Lee as he worked a rolling bassline. “Vital Signs” had the crashing reggae-ish riffs of early Police. “The Garden” began at a gently urgent pace with Lee and Lifeson in tandem on acoustic guitar and bass rhythm in one of the most emotional, if least flamboyant, songs of the night, as phones were lifted across the arena like a field of stars. Even Lifeson’s big closing guitar solo was restrained. Near the end, an animated clip from South Park introduced “Tom Sawyer,” a song that managed to be a showcase for the chops of each player while remaining a catchy FM radio megahit. When Nilles landed the original’s signature drum fill, the response was immediate and ecstatic, as it had been all night. The night’s most memorable moments had come earlier, just after intermission, when Rush played the full 20-minute “side one” of 2112, the band’s first magnum opus, constructed from seven ambitious movements (“Overture” / “The Temples of Syrinx” / “Discovery” / “Presentation” / “Oracle: The Dream” / “Soliloquy” / “Grand Finale”). At times, Lee dropped his usual high register for something gentler and evocative. As the 2112 suite reached its peak, Lifeson leaned close to Lee and shared a joke, both cracking up as they kept playing. It was a small but meaningful moment in a night filled with emotion and release. After a decade away, and six years after losing Peart, Rush had returned not as a lesser echo of themselves, but as lifelong friends reclaiming what made Rush matter to so many for five decades.