Armageddon was Prism's third album in three years, and it would become the band's commercial high-water mark. In the summer of 1979, the title track "Armageddon" was the best song I'd heard in a long time and, over the decades, has aged into one of the coolest rock songs ever. It pushed nearly eight minutes, but there were no wasted moments.
My summer job in 1979, the year I turned sixteen, was with the forestry service. Along with a youth crew of close to forty other raging, hormonal teenage boys, it was more than just a night to remember ... it was a summer to remember. Heck, my buddy Bill, who could grow a full beard, would mule beer and assorted contraband into camp whenever we made a trip into town. I had a large bottle of Bacardi (which I couldn't stand, but thought was more economical and easier to stash than beer) that I never did drink - but I had it just in case I needed to be one of the cool kids.That magical summer we'd sit around by the lake arguing over the merits of Van Halen II, curse disco, agree that we were all getting sick of hearing "My Sharona," even though it was still cool, play Styx cassettes, and wonder what boobs felt like (one of the guys swore they felt like a Nerf ball, who was I to argue?). It was also the summer I bought Caress of Steel by Rush (which has nothing to do with anything). Right in the middle of all that was Prism, and we all agreed that Armageddon was a great song and another great album by the band.
One night one of the guys in our cabin ran a spool of wire up a tree, wrapped the other end around the antenna of his radio, and started farting around with the dial to see if anything would come in. We were basically in the middle of nowhere. Lo and behold, we picked up a station from who knows where, and "Armageddon" was playing. It remains a really cool memory.
It's interesting to listen to this now and realize a very young Bryan Adams co-wrote three of the album's eight tracks. Vocalist Ron Tabak was in absolutely killer form throughout the album. If there's a tragedy in Canadian music - okay, music in general - it's the sad story of Ron Tabak and the equally troubled story of Prism, the band that should have had it all.
I have no idea what really happened, nor do I want to. You read things here and there that are probably about as accurate as the hamster-in-a-microwave urban legend. As a teenager I just assumed that if a band had a record deal they were rock stars, and if they had songs on the radio they had to be millionaires. My friend Steve had a Lindsay Mitchell signature guitar - how cool is that? You don't expect them to have feet of clay or deal with the same problems and insecurities as the rest of us mere mortals.
Prism was as big a deal as any band, in my opinion, and with Armageddon they cemented their place in history - at least Canadian history. From the opening riff of "Comin' Home" to the talk box solo on "Mirror Man" that closes the record, the band was firing on all cylinders. The songs had an edge, and the band still loved their ballads. This time around it was "Night to Remember," a song that found its way into plenty of graduation ceremonies that year.
The songs were much more straightforward. Gone were the heady keyboard parts that had made John Hall so integral to the first two records. This was still very much a rock album, and while the songs were steeped in '70s rock roots, the band was making a gentle turn that should have taken them into the early '80s as a band to be reckoned with. After all, the decade was closing out. Changes were on the horizon, and you either kept up or got left behind.Bruce Fairbairn was still in the producer's chair, with Bob Rock engineering and mixing most of the album. The classic lineup was still intact:
- Lindsay Mitchell - guitar
- Rock Norton - drums
- Al Harlow - bass and rhythm guitar
- John Hall - keyboards
- Ron Tabak - vocals
Prism would make one more album with this classic lineup in 1980, Young and Restless, and after that things would begin to change, first with one small change and eventually there would be no one left from this lineup, when Beat Street was released - Prism would become a band in name only.
For a few short years, between 1977 and 1980, Prism sat at the heart of my musical world.
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