Acceptance: More Thoughts on Neil Peart's Death
After a few days' of reflection...yep, still really bummed.
Suddenly you were gone
From all the lives you left your mark upon – “Afterimage”
When I heard that you were gone
I felt a shadow cross my heart. – "Nobody's Hero"
I’ve had a few days now to process the death of Rush drummer/lyricist Neil Peart and can hopefully expand on what I previously wrote after the shocking revelation of last Friday. In retrospect, my initial thoughts turned out a bit more coherent than I expected and I want to thank those who read it and provided such thoughtful feedback. It is my hope that it helped in some small way.
Some knew Neil as the drummer of Rush. Some know he also wrote the band’s lyrics. A few may have known him only from the books he wrote. But to some of us — a lot of us, judging by my social media feeds and an outpouring of Peart's fellow musicians — saw him as all those things and more. He was equal parts poet, philosopher, humanitarian, father, husband, friend, and unbelievably talented musician — the backbone of a band that provided the soundtrack for so many lives.
Although Peart has appeared in many interviews over the years, over time the man faded from doing most of the PR-related chores that rock stars must endure, leaving it to Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson. I mean, even the shocking news of his death took three days to reach the media. Perhaps that was the most Neil Peart thing ever.
His reluctance to put himself out there only served to add more gravitas to the interviews he agreed to give. But the true narrative of Neil Peart came out in his song lyrics and his books. That’s where he exposed his thoughts for all to see. He held nothing back in his writing. You knew where he stood on politics, social issues, religion, the music industry, and many other topics.
Previously, other musicians I greatly admire have passed on — Yes bassist Chris Squire, David Bowie, Tom Petty, John Wetton, and Pink Floyd keyboardist Richard Wright are among those losses which I felt quite deeply in recent years. If you go back further, Freddie Mercury, Stuart Adamson (Big Country), George Harrison, and John Lennon strike a chord. (I will never forget that I was watching Monday Night Football when I found out about Lennon's death.)
But I never crawled inside the head of any of the others the way Peart allowed us to do. I didn’t agree with all his views. In fact, some of them were quite at odds with my own beliefs. That only serves to make him like any other person. We’ve all got our own way of looking at things. At least Neil generally told us why he held his viewpoints and could defend them with coherent and thoughtful arguments. That gave him a leg up on most people, who simply dig in, get defensive, and never question their own thoughts and motivations.
What I’m trying to say is that Rush fans got to know him in a very real way. Through his books and lyrics, he laid out who he was. Was that a perfect image? Of course not. We all have our biases and blind spots and Peart was as capable as any of us at inaccuracy. But he at least put you in the ballpark and never came across as putting on airs or misrepresenting himself. He was often self-deprecating and willing to second guess himself. It was endearing and humanizing.
The totality of what he put out into the world in the form of his thoughts, beliefs, and opinions created in his fans a sense of “knowing him.” The overwhelming majority of Rush fans never met him, but we feel like we did. That made his loss more painful than most.
What began as a tear-filled weekend — I spent much of it watching Rush DVDs and listening to the band's music, bringing waterworks at unexpected intervals — turned into something else. I read (and I’m not exaggerating here) hundreds of social media and Reddit posts from fans about Neil over the last few days. My Facebook timeline in particular was overflowing with sentiments from a range of folks — from his biggest fans to people who only had a passing familiarity with Rush's music. I repeatedly clicked the “most recent” view button to try to keep the Facebook algorithm from determining the content. It didn’t matter. Seemingly everyone I know or follow had something to say about Neil, whether it be a fond memory of a concert experience, a profession of love for a particular song, or an expression of grief.
It was oddly cathartic for me. The more I read other people’s thoughts, the easier it was to cope with my own. It made me realize how great Facebook can be when people are not using it as a platform to blame or belittle a group of people with which they don’t identify. Many of those same people who insult the other half don’t understand how the United States became such a divided country, which is ironic as hell. But I digress.
As I previously mentioned, a lot of people can identify with the lyrics Neil wrote to "Subdivisions." Although it specifically speaks about growing up in suburbia, the feelings it evokes are universal. And that's not just limited to unpopular kids, but it perhaps resonates more deeply with the introverts, the misfits, the ones who don't belong to a clique and get socially marginalized by their peers.
Maybe it's true that "nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone" than the suburbs but it isn't just there. Even though we all have our own crap that we go through and it might be tougher for us dreamers/misfits, Neil doesn't just lament this situation. He also offered us hope and urged us to fight through it in his works.
It's not as if this barricade
Blocks the only road
It's not as if you're all alone
In wanting to explode.
Someone set a bad example
Made surrender seem all right
The act of a noble warrior
Who lost the will to fight. – "The Pass"
I suffered from depression as a young adult and the above lyrical passage helped me get through some tough times in the early 1990s. I'll never get a chance to thank Neil for that.
I feel your presence
I remember. –“Afterimage”
While I watched Rush play some of the greatest songs ever written, the shots of Neil behind his drum kit became less painful over the course of the weekend. By the end, I was smiling more often than welling up with tears. This was particularly true when they'd show him making faces at Alex or Geddy.
What I'm feeling now is more gratitude than sadness. As one internet meme pointed out, the Earth is more than four billion years old and I got to exist at the same time as Rush.
I was vaguely aware of Rush for a few years before I truly became a fan. Mtv pushed me into fandom. I already knew of songs like "In the Mood," "Working Man," and "Fly by Night" from rock radio (Q-FM-96 in Columbus). I picked up Moving Pictures and Signals on cassette from the BMG Music Service on the strength of the videos for "Tom Sawyer," "Limelight," "Vital Signs," "Subdivisions," and "Countdown." I "came forward" with the band from that point but over the years I managed to also go back and add in their older albums.
"Losing It" quickly became my favorite song and still is. It's not a conventional choice for a Rush fan's all-time favorite but I love guest musician Ben Mink's ethereal electric violin, the unique atmosphere of the song, and, of course, Peart's wonderful lyrics. "Subdivisions" was right behind, and so many songs have reached just about the level of those two in my view that I'd be hard pressed to give you a top 10 song list on consecutive days that would match.
I was fortunate enough to see the band play live seven times. It wasn’t enough, but I realize I’m luckier than many Rush fans. I read many posts this weekend from people who never had that opportunity. I truly feel for them. Seeing them live was to see the best version of them. They delivered every time. And you could go to a Rush concert by yourself (something I did more than once), because you’d arrive and take your place among thousands of friends you’d never met before and you'd always have a great time.
My Rush shows include:
Power Windows — Richfield Coliseum, Richfield, OH (12/19/85)
Presto — Riverfront Coliseum, Cincinnati, OH (3/6/90)
Vapor Trails — Coral Sky Music Amphitheater, West Palm Beach, FL (10/11/02)
R30 — Germain Amphitheater, Columbus, OH (6/2/04)
Snakes and Arrows (twice) — Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, OH (8/30/07) and Amway Arena, Orlando, FL (4/15/08)
Clockwork Angels — Amway Arena, Orlando, FL (4/28/13)
As I alluded to in my previous post, the Columbus concert was my bachelor party. I couldn’t imagine a better bachelor party experience and I am glad for the friends who accompanied me. You know who you are.
If I could wave my magic wand
I’d make everything all right – “Presto”
I may be in a bit better place mentally today than I was on Friday or Saturday, but I wouldn't say I'm over it. That's not how grief works. The tears have found their way back into my eyes a few times while writing this. It's that way for every person we lose who means anything to us. That sense of loss hits like a rogue wave. It isn't there until it is.
I wish I could help the process along for others. I know we all process grief, loss, and sadness differently (Neil illustrated his own in his book Ghost Rider, and few people have endured such a magnitude of tragedy in such a short time period as the events that led to that book). Time may not stand still, but that's why it helps with the healing process. Not much of that has passed since last week, so if you need someone to reach out to, feel free to drop me a note below.
At least Neil was able to leave so much of himself behind for us. Not many people are able to do that. Now that he's gone, the best thing we can do is what Neil told us to do:
Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive.– “The Spirit of Radio"
I typically do, but I’ve traded in the radio for an Echo dot hooked up to my Spotify account, where I can access any/all of Neil’s music by voice command any time I want. And what does that get me?
Emotional feedback
On a timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price
Almost free