CALGARY -- If Rush is an acquired taste, three hours and 10 minutes of Rush should be long enough to gain a strong liking for it.

It should be, but, sadly, it's not.

Now, to be fair, I am not a fan of Rush's music. In fact, my idea of torture is being locked in a room as Tom Sawyer plays over and over and over. And, while I felt I could go into last night's marathon at the Saddledome with an open mind (jacked full of "pre-emptive strike" headache meds mind you), 34 years of loathing can not simply be erased.

Thankfully, my husband, unbeknownst to me, is a Rush devotee, so with him along for the ride, assuring my review was not completely bias, I prepared, and hoped, to be proven wrong.

It started out looking as though that's exactly what would happen.

After the houselights dimmed and an eruption of light and noise filled the arena, Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart appeared, ripping through a breathless bundle of songs including Limelight, Digital Man, Entre Nous and Mission.

The 27-song set list, which focused heavily on the band's music from the early '80s and the new disc, Snakes & Arrows, was received well by the 11,500 bobbing heads in the room, with each track bringing about another wave of screams and head-bangs.

These Rush enthusiasts clearly respect the band's instrumental expertise.

They roared noticeably louder for Peart's drum solo and Lee and Lifeson's guitar work during the first half of the show, signalling their adoration for the Canadian icons.

These impressive breaks from the lyrics also proved to be the highlight for myself, as they supplied a rest from the nails-on-a-chalkboard sounds of Lee's distinctive voice, which remains as strong and piercing as ever.

Other peaks last night included many videos, which opened both halves of the concert and supplied humour throughout. The standouts were clips of SCTV's Bob and Doug McKenzie, looking much older, as they introduced The Larger Bowl and a witty South Park sketch, which opened Tom Sawyer.

On a side note, one has to admire a band that brings three rotisserie chicken ovens as its stage dressing and starts the show with a video of dream, within a dream, within a dream. No one likes people who take themselves too seriously, after all.

Between the funny bits and the insane musical interludes, the three hours flew by, my eardrums not bleeding, yet my allergy to Lee's high-pitched nasal voice still very much alive.

But while I did not gain a new love of Rush, the thousands of fans chanting the band's name at the end of the night (as well as my better-half, who threatened to leave me if I gave them a poor review) assured me, or rather convinced me, they rocked.