If there’s one era of Rush’s long history that causes the most division among fans and critics, it’s the band’s new wave years, from 1982 through 1987. Traditional rock elements were eschewed in favor of experimentation with electronic music. The classic heavy guitar riff was no longer a factor, replaced by strong emphasis on hooks and texture. Lee, who had switched from his old-timey Rickenbacker bass to a more streamlined and contemporary Steinberger, was becoming cooped up behind his massive bank of keyboards and sequencers, while Peart was discovering electronic drums. Unlike some fans who don’t want change and crave only “the old stuff,” the trio didn’t want to become dinosaurs. They were changing with the times: they wore more fashionable clothes onstage, Lee grew a mullet, Peart a rat tail, Lifeson a snappy short new wave haircut. Considering a huge portion of their Canadian fanbase was still the teen hesher type, clad in scruffy plaid flannel, denim, and Cougar boots, it was understandable that some screamed bloody murder that their favorite band dared to look different.

Now that 30 years have passed since the release of Grace Under Pressure, it’s high time to acknowledge with the benefit and perspective of hindsight that not only is it a lot better than baby boomer critics were willing to admit in 1984, but it ranks as one of Rush’s finest albums, period.

Although the experimental, keyboard-driven Signals was a platinum-selling triumph, a clear indication that audiences were willing to embrace the band’s departure from heavy rock, Rush began to regret how that album turned out sounding. Lee, Peart, and Lifeson especially have spoken about how Signals lacked edginess and heaviness, thanks in large part to Lifeson being nudged out of the picture. Part of the blame was placed on producer Terry Brown, and after a decade of working with the imaginative producer the band felt it was time for a change, instead opting to hire Steve Lillywhite to helm the new album, who, having worked on acclaimed albums by Peter Gabriel, U2 and Big Country, was one of the hottest producers in the business. Much to the band’s chagrin, however, Lillywhite bailed on the project at the last minute, and a replacement was found in Supertramp producer Peter Henderson. Instead of hiring a studio leader, however, the band found itself with a person who was a better engineer than producer and wound up with the added stress of making production decisions themselves. Consequently, the making of Grace Under Pressure was a lot longer and more arduous than the previous three albums.

If anything, the added burden had to have helped create Grace Under Pressure’s distinct mood. Although it remains defiantly lacking in distortion and bombast, it remains one of the heaviest albums in Rush’s history, especially thematically. Written in the middle of the conservative Reagan/Thatcher/Mulroney era — a time of inflation, unemployment, and societal strife — the state of the world in 1983-’84 had a huge influence on Peart, whose lyrics delved into very dark motifs. Mortality, paranoia, the Holocaust, dystopian future, and the Cold War are all subjects that keep cropping up on a very bleak yet thoughtful album.

What sticks out most on Grace Under Pressure, however, is how the balance between synthesizers and guitar is a lot more even, as Lifeson is given more room to shine than on Signals. As a result there’s a better sense of dynamics on this album than on Signals — more of a push-and-pull between rock and electronic — which only adds to the tension on a very nervous-sounding album. Although he’s not in full rock god mode, Lifeson is a dynamo on this record, providing brilliant counterbalance and lean melodies on “Afterimage,” wicked ska riffing on the propulsive “The Enemy Within,” and great richness to “Kid Gloves.”

Three songs in particular play a large role in making Grace Under Pressure such a strong album. Named after the Distant Early Warning Line of missile-detecting radar stations in Arctic Canada, “Distant Early Warning” is an eloquent state-of-the-world address circa 1984, referencing nuclear fallout (“no swimming in the heavy water”), acid rain, communism, and an anguished cry of “Absalom,” chosen by Peart as a play on the words “absolute” and “obsolete” and a reference to King David’s grieving for his son in the Old Testament (“Absalom, Absalom. My son, my son. Would God I had died for thee”). “Between The Wheels” closes the album on a very ominous and bleak note, discordant synth stabs countered by Lifeson’s heaviest guitar tones since “Witch Hunt” three years earlier. The beautiful and heartbreaking “Red Sector A” brings welcome emotion and humanity to a very frigid album, inspired by the experience of Lee’s mother in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp and backed up by a propulsive, ironically dance-infused arrangement of sequencer and pulsating electronic drums.

With its catchy melody and Dr. Strangelove-referencing video, “Distant Early Warning” became a surprise MTV hit, helping make Grace Under Pressure another platinum-selling top ten album in America. In addition, the band was touring relentlessly with a cutting-edge stage show, proving to be one of the most consistent live draws in rock music. While the next four albums would start to slip into more stereotypical sounds that would date the music in some people’s eyes, Grace Under Pressure is an impeccable balance of timelessness and being completely of its time. It’s a valuable time capsule, a spot-on portrait of the world in 1984, yet at the same time rather prescient, laced with the wise sadness that things would only become even more surreal and dystopian than they already were.