As you can see, it has been quite some time since I've written anything. This post, however, is needed. But the words to encapsulate my sentiments about Neil Ellwood Peart will not be enough.
Right now, the music world is heartbroken. Those of us who are fans of Rush are absolutely devastated.
I learned about Neil's passing from a text message yesterday afternoon at 4:20 PM from the very person who properly introduced me to them some time around 1992. I remember as a child absolutely hating Rush for reasons that I could never identify. I distinctly remember waking up one morning around the age of 13 hearing the classical acoustic opening of The Trees on WDVE and thinking to myself, "Wow. What is this?" Then Geddy started singing and I knew immediately it was Rush.
*click*
But in the late spring of 1992, I went over to Dave's house as I did on a regular basis. At any given time he would be playing either Yes, Pink Floyd or Rush. On one particular day, I pulled into his Dad's driveway, got out and walked into the garage where he had been cleaning his old, red VW Jetta (what a car!). As I walked into the threshold of the garage, he had just put Permanent Waves into his tape deck and The Spirit of Radio had just started.
And then magic happened.
For some reason, it just clicked. I finally understood why Dave loved Rush so much. Before I left that day, I asked Dave to borrow his tape. I think I ended up keeping that tape for the next three months.
And now, 28 years later, here I am writing about Neil's passing.
I think the real reason that I'm writing this is because I'm finally forced to face my own mortality. In 1992, I had every one in my life that I needed, loved, or even wanted. I had all of my brothers. I had my grandparents. I had my friends. But since 1992, things have changed. I lost a brother. I lost all of my grandparents (even though my maternal grandfather died before I was born). And some of the friendships that I thought would last forever are now but happy, distant memories.
Now, it seems that around this time of year, I just stare at the soft, warm glow of the Christmas tree giving due reflection of my life. And as I do, I usually think about my childhood and how good, yet horrible things were. And as I make my way down the hallway to go to bed, I'm reminded of the present and how life returns to normal. Work in the morning. Bills. What to have for dinner. Planning my garden for the year. Trying to be a good dad. Trying to be a good husband.
I hang on every day looking for some silver lining. But most days, I go through the normal motions of normal people. Fighting on in quiet desperation hoping that things change. And at night, when the house is quiet and dark, I often lay in bed with tears racing down my cheeks as I stare at a blank, voiceless ceiling.
Over the past few years we have lost some titans in the world of music. Keith Emerson. Chris Squire. More recently, Ric Ocasek. And as painful as it was to lose them, losing Neil is absolutely agonizing for me. His lyrics introduced me to concepts that I otherwise would have never even considered. They comforted me and brought me out of darkness when all I wanted to do was drive off a cliff or swallow a bucket of sleeping pills. The Pass, is one of those songs that made me hang on just a few seconds longer until light would shine on me again.
And his drumming just left me stupefied. As Stewart Copeland once stated, Neil is air-drummed to more than any other rock drummer. I've never been a drummer, always opting to be more like Alex and most recently, Geddy. The closest I ever came to being a drummer was playing Dave's kit every once in a while. Dave once said, try doing anything with your feet while trying to air-drum to a Rush song, then try to do anything with your hands. Try playing along, even without sticks, Neil's version of, The Drum Also Waltzes, and it won't take but a few seconds to understand how complex Neil's drumming was.
I can't pretend that I knew Neil personally. He was someone that I just watched from a bleacher in some arena on several occasions, just mesmerized at what I was seeing and hearing. The last time I saw him was on June 10, 2015 in Buffalo, NY. I have no shame in admitting I cried practically the entire time. Because I knew way deep down inside, that was the last time I would ever see Neil on stage again, let alone with Geddy and Alex.
My heroes are departing one-by-one. And Neil's passing leaves me without the words that are beautiful or crafted well enough to express how much his music means to me and how painful this is. I know that there will be happy memories that await me in the future as I listen to Rush again. But right now, my heart is severed right in two.
The tribute below is not mine. But if I had even the slightest ounce of creativity anymore, it would have been something like it.
This hurts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWoMIlivrtU
Issue #610: Ch-ch-ch-changes!
3 weeks ago
