A Few Words On Neil Peart's Passing

So, last Friday I came home after 5PM and the house was empty. I had been offline for most of the afternoon. I've been trying to get away from social media and to some extent have only been using it to post links to this blog, but the dopamine rush is undeniable so I clicked my Safari web browser and went to Facebook (at least I don't have the app on my phone) to see if anybody had liked the blog link I had place earlier and to see if anything interesting was happening. The first post I saw was about Neil Peart dying.

I said several bad words and then immediately went to the room where all of my records are and randomly pulled Permanent Waves from the stack. It could have been 2112, Signals, Moving Pictures, or others, but Permanent Waves it was to be. I dropped the needle of "The Spirit of Radio" and cranked the dial. I play my music loud, but rarely do I really push it. This time I let the speakers scream. I wanted the music to be all I heard and all I felt as the soundwaves physically hit my body.

Then something unexpected happened. I began to cry. Death is inevitable and I usually don't cry at a music star's passing. They are, in most cases, mere strangers to me. Yet, I immediately understood my tears. Neil wasn't a stranger. His words are what first drew me to Rush. The drumming and musicianship of the band was stellar, but the lyrics were a comfort and inspiration to me growing up. You see that kid in the "Subdivisions" music video? Put curly hair on him and it could have been me going to the arcade alone.

It's not that I didn't have any friends while I was in high school. I had a few, but even among them I could feel like an outcast. Music was my respite from it all. When I felt like I had completely goofed something up it was still there. I'd spend my meager money on remaindered bargain bin records and tapes and music magazines like Creem, Hit Parader, and Circus. The first Rush albums I bought were on tape: Caress of Steel and Fly By NIght. I listened to them often since they were part of that smalll selection of albums I had when I just a high school sophomore. I think I had a copy of Moving Pictures and then later Signals from my friend Markus. I taped Grace Under Pressure from the KDF Sunday Night Six Pack which would begin at midnight with the disc jockey playing 6 albums front to back. I think I still have that tape.

Permanent Waves was transporting me back to those days which Rush had helped make life a little easier. It wasn't just a great drummer and lyricist who had passed on too soon. Neil was more than that. He was a friend. And he never had to pretend I was a long lost friend either.