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A pastoral delight that comes over you like a daydream. Graceful and buoyant acoustics, tasteful orchestration, and Lee singing in a simple, unaffected style make up the bedrock of The Garden.
Peart joins in on a second verse, laying down a soft shuffle, and even when he appears to be doing very little, his sense of composition and movement has a profound impact. His patterns are so natural that it's almost as if the sticks breezed into his hands and started playing him.
After a spellbindingly romantic piano interlude, Lifeson reaches in and pulls out a multi-dimensional guitar solo, one which recalls the mysterious epiphanies from Limelight. There's a certain melancholy quality to his phrasing, as is he's pausing briefly to look behind his shoulder.
By the end, he's rejoined his bandmates and the three march off intrepidly together. They don't dwell in the moment - there's no needlessly showy flourishes or building the crescendo up as "epic" - but the further away they get the more it becomes apparent that the spell they've cast and the resonance of Clockwork Angels will linger on.