Thank You, Neil Peart!
I FIRST HEARD the magical sound of Rush when I was 10 years old, strolling with my mother through a furniture store in Costa Mesa, CA. As “Big Money” played through the ceiling speakers, I stopped in my tracks and stared straight up.
That first Rush experience made me second guess everything I ever thought I knew about music. Why did I have Motley Crue posters on my bedroom walls? Was Eddie Van Halen even that good of a guitar player?
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This week’s passing of legendary drummer/lyricist/author Neil Peart has been hard on Rush fans. I mean, really hard. Much to the shock of Rush fans, and just about everyone, Neil passed away after a three year struggle with brain cancer. It’s hard to explain just how much Rush’s music has meant to millions of fans worldwide, but I will try my best.
Rush’s music wasn’t just good. It was exceptional. Thought provoking lyrics mixed with layered instrumental arrangements left most musicians in garage bands across America scratching their heads and thinking: maybe we should just play some Metallica songs instead.
Neil’s drumming has been described as superhuman, which is not too far from the truth. But he was always quite humble about it, admitting that there were more than a handful of drummers throughout the world who probably deserved more credit than him. For the most part, Neil just seemed happy to be a part of it all.
For a socially awkward teenager like myself who spent all his free time practicing arpeggios on his bass and reading Stephen King books, Neil Peart’s lyrics and Rush’s music made me feel like it was okay to just be me. Aside from “Ghost of a Chance,” I can’t think of one single Rush love song. Which is great, because I’ve never cared much for love songs anyway!
As a young, aspiring musician trying to survive in an age when Top 40 ruled the airwaves, Rush was everything. And I literally mean EVERYTHING. My high school band wanted to be Rush so bad, that we kicked both our rhythm guitarist and singer out of the band so we could be a power trio. Once we fell into our new rhythm, we rehearsed 2–3 times a week, scheduled our own gigs, and recorded a demo tape. Forget about going to college, we were going to be RUSH!
Then, there were the legendary Rush concerts at Irvine Meadows Amphitheater— nights I will never forget. It is quite something to see your musical heroes up close and personal on stage. That type of musical inspiration was hard to find in the 1980's and 1990's.
Neil Peart was a damn good writer, too. “Ghost Rider” chronicles Neil’s travels across most of North America on his BMW motorcycle following the tragic deaths of his teenage daughter and his wife in the 1990's. Perhaps what most inspired me about Ghost Rider was Neil’s bravery and courage in the face of such devastating losses. As I read Ghost Rider, I was stunned by Neil’s backbone of forged steel. Regardless of how he felt, Neil just kept riding his motorcycle all across the country, back and forth and up and down, until he felt like stopping. A Forrest Gump archetype, perhaps.
In a world of compromise and over commercialism, Neil Peart’s legacy will at least in part be truth, integrity, and precision, in the face of overbearing pressure to bend.
There will never be another Rush. Their place in music is now firmly cemented, and Neil Peart’s contributions to modern music should never be forgotten.
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