Rush

With one foot in progressive rock and one in '70s heavy metal, Rush became the thinking man's arena-rock gods with brainy lyrics, dazzling instrumental flash, and pure riff power. Their signature song, "Tom Sawyer," bursting with video-game synth riffs and knuckle-busting drum rolls, became the anthem of everyone who'd ever been an alienated teen. The Canadian power trio waxed philosophical on "The Spirit of Radio," pondering the power of the airwaves while turning on a dime from stadium-sized rock to Canuck-reggae rhythms. And our favorite fantasy freaks unveiled a rock 'n' roll sci-fi story on "Red Barchetta," every verse unveiling another futuristic chapter in their art-rock operetta.

Listen in as Rush gets epic in Next Steps.

Part of the magical Rush recipe is an epic sense of adventure — long prog-rock suites full of far-flung Star Trek-meets-Greek-mythology narratives with a dash of grad-school philosophy. "By-Tor and the Snow Dog" is a swords-and-sorcery fable where riotous hard-rock riffs help unfold the heroic saga of a princely warrior. "Anthem" aims for a more personal target, as Geddy Lee's stratospheric wail and Alex Lifeson's fiery-fingered guitar acrobatics electrify a message of self-knowledge. And "La Villa Strangiato" paints a picture without words, the nine-and-a-half-minute art-rock sonata's subtle mood shifts achieving true symphonic-rock grandeur.

The classic rockers make some modern moves in Deep Cuts.

Rush always tried to move with the times — the lion-maned '70s rockers embraced electronics and mullet mania in the '80s and went stripped-down modern in later years, never losing their old-school gusto. "Red Sector A" sports an absolutely '80s sequencer pulse and near-dance beat, but its post-apocalyptic lyrical landscape is more Philip K. Dick than Frankie Goes To Hollywood. You could almost mistake the grinding guitars and lean, mean groove of "Test for Echo" for grunge until you start catching non-flannel phrases like "plausible deniability." The more mature Rush got, the more comfortable they were with showing their roots, though, like their blues-rocking cover of "Crossroads" in homage to the original power trio, Cream.

Whether they're New World Men or today's Tom Sawyers, Rush have been making majestic, larger-than-life music as far back as the start of the '70s. Since then, they've weaved everything from proto-metal to prog rock to new wave into the three-ring circus of Geddy Lee's helium holler and death-defying basslines, six-string Picasso Alex Lifeson's artful shredding, and Neil Peart's octopus-on-amphetamines drum deviltry. Ever the hard-rock intellectuals, they've matched their instrumental prowess with lyrical brainpower, spinning complex sci-fi yarns and harnessing heady concepts. The finest moments of Rush's long voyage are collected here, from brain-burning flights of fantasy to punchy political statements, all delivered with the kind of big-stepping bravado that's been setting lighters aloft in packed stadiums for four decades.