"Some are born to move the world, to live their fantasies, but most of us just dream about the things we'd like to be. Sadder still, to watch it die than never to have known it. For you, the blind who once could see, the bell tolls for thee..." - Losing It, 1982.
It's difficult to fathom how a retirement, can feel as numbing as that of a death. The justification for such a claim is overwhelmingly subjective and deep as much as it is painfully selfish. Mostly, because we never want to say goodbye, even if they're still with us.
For Rush's Neil Peart, arguably the greatest drummer alive, his decision to retire from music after 40 years with one of the greatest rock bands of all time, it is hitting me and other fans around the world hard. We knew one day it would come, but we can't accept it. Nonetheless, we have to. When looking back at what this man has done, it's hard to believe all he has achieved.
Joining Rush in 1975 after John Rutsey departed the seminal Canadian trio following complications with the touring cycle of their debut album, Peart fundamentally changed the bands sound instantly. The band, firmly rooted in blistering and melodic hard rock, was through Peart's focused, intense and blistering drumming in combination with his fantasy, philosophical and heartfelt lyrics to become hone their craft to become of the most proficient, technical and enduring rock bands of the 20th and 21st Centuries.
They became a progressive rock band that defined what Prog could sound like. Among a bunch of contemporaries, they were able to bridge both the mainstream rock crowd and the elitist prog movement while keeping a strong vein of professionalism by touring and performing music of consistently high quality. The songs may have lasted a long time, but you kept them in your head, and they became ingrained in your system. Even as their sound progressed and changed, adding influences from New Wave, Regaee, Grunge and Metal, the band matured with it all, allowing them to remain in the public conscience over the decades, while many others fell into obscurity. Peart as the lyricist and primarily creative muse, was at the forefront of those changes, with his bandmates Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson more than happy to embrace them with him. Their catalog which has songs about the discovery of music an anti-creative society centuries in the future, the USA/Canada relationship using trees as a metaphor and the fear of man against unknown evil, along with passionate looks at mortality, the fragility of the humanity, the prospect of nuclear warfare, a reflection of Geddy's parents in Nazi concentration camps and even Peart's own faith just to name a small few. It's a catalog with rich diversity and complexity. All of which can stand up to modern music with relative ease, which is remarkable considering the band have been around for 40 years.
Even with their success, caused primarily through their passionate fan base, critics some rock fraternities frequently looked down on the band as "a pretentious band, whose music was too smart, not mainstream enough, and was too well-played to carry any authenticity". Forty years later, in 2015, the band are adored by pretty much all in the music community, with even their staunchest critics acknowledging what they can't deny: that Rush are one of the greatest bands of all time. Not just in relation to commercial success, with over 24 gold albums, but as a testament to their sheer quality on all instruments, with Peart's light shining brighter than the band itself.
His skills on the sticks have inspired a myriad of contemporary rock, metal, alternative, progressive and jazz drummers, the list of which is too long to list here. No matter where you are in the world, there's bound to be a drummer somewhere effected and influenced by Peart's skills. If not, then they would at least appreciate him for what he does. Which goes in tandem with the man himself: who is a quiet and humble but intensely passionate man. A man who appreciates his life and all it's given. This is especially poignant after the losses of his first wife and daughter in 1997 and 1998 respectively. Even with those tragic events occurring, which would have destroyed a lesser man, he soldiered on. He gained retrospect on the world and translated those experiences, spent mostly riding on his motorcycle for weeks on end, into more heartfelt music four years later. That kept us on our toes, embracing a revived Neil and a revitalised band, enjoying every minute even as his body steadily wore down. He kept going until his body told him he couldn't, and deciding to bow out at the top of the world, with the band being more relevant than ever, with the adoration of critics and fans, he couldn't have asked for a better ending to this journey he's been on. The fact that his retirement was 'confirmed' through an interview in a magazine rather than with the bells and whistles of press releases and a lengthy post on the bands website shows that humble man in all its glory. He didn't want to cause a fuss, and retired with grace and humility. Honestly, many music fans and myself, wouldn't have had it any other way.
Rush entered my life fairly recently in comparison to some fans of their work, but their impact for me is still as unmeasurable as it is for those who have followed them for decades.
My first experiences with Rush started through playing Guitar Hero II in 2006, with "YYZ" being my gateway to their material. The song was blisteringly fast, but held melody in line with it, creating a song that got stuck in my head and left a massive impression. I purchased Moving Pictures a few months later, and it proved to show me just how well constructed the bands work was. No matter how irritating I thought Geddy's vocals were to start with, the quality of the instrumental musicianship alone was worth the price of the album, not just in Moving Pictures, but in all 21 releases over the bands 40-year career that I then stuck my teeth into, and have thoroughly enjoyed since.
While the musical quality is undeniable, the depth and quality of Peart's lyrics took me some time to fully grasp, but in understanding them, through either their blunt simplicity or the way they flow when sung in cohesion with the music, has shown itself to be some of the strongest lyrics I've ever come across. Due to how much of a 'literary nerd' Peart has admitted himself to be, the poet in him comes out fluidly within the bands music. That, in itself gives their music a timelessness that few bands discography have matched in my humble opinion. The songs are rooted to their respective time periods, but can be easily taken, and applied to today with it all still making sense. That ladies and gentlemen, is the work of a true artist.
I saw Rush live for the only time in May 2011 on the Time Machine Tour at London's O2 Arena. It still stands as one of the greatest moments of my life, capped off by them performing Moving Pictures in its entirety, which is an experience I won't forget for as long as I live. Having the privilege of seeing this band, and in particular The Professor at work, commanding his kit with such presence and precision, it was awe-inspiring. Although in all fairness, I was too busy playing air-drums, air-guitar, air-bass and air-keyboard all while singing my lungs out to really care, because I was just taking the music in and letting my body speak for itself. That, in short, sums up Rush to me. My body never fails to be excited by their music, which now sadly has lost its brain, albeit in the most positive of ways, which many bands would wish they could be in a position to do.
As a band, they changed my life, helping me sum myself up as a 'nerd', all due to me adoring the affectionately named 'Star Trek' of rock music. They've shown me what music made with the utmost care and dedication sounds like, and have given me some great memories. For that, I can't thank Neil, Geddy & Alex enough. To see the band say its final goodbye in an apologetically selfless and muted way is great but also sad, knowing that a massive piece of my personal growth over the last 10 years is now officially consigned to history. With that, it does give me a chance to fully observe what Neil and Rush have achieved. In doing so, it makes me immensely proud to have helped contribute to their longevity and success.
To have drummed on some of the most complex, intense and critically revered songs of the genre over his career is a major accomplishment. To have achieved commercial success that your band rivals The Beatles and The Rolling Stones in certified records as a result, without major critical support, is mind-blowing. To have that success result in being inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame and be awarded the Order Of Canada is phenomenal. Finally, to have his influence stamped on over 40 years of players of an instrument, over a variety of genres is simply remarkable. Neil Peart may have drummed his last solo earlier this year, but the legacy will remain, from now until his passing and beyond. While it is sad to know he has retired from music, we can never deny his contribution to this art form. The Garden, the poignant closer to Rush's 2012 'Clockwork Angels' album, states that:
"The measure of a life, is a measure of love and respect. [It's] so hard to earn, [yet] so easily burned".
While it was hard work for him to earn it, Neil wholly deserves the love and respect he's gotten from a world in which he has graced with such great skills on the drum kit and lyrical writing. While many others could have easily taken that and as the song says 'easily burnt' it, he stands as a man who all musicians, and human beings can look up to. Not just as a standard bearer for quality of work, but also in respecting and appreciating the life in which we create and embrace said work. He is the best drummer I've ever seen and had the pleasure of hearing with my own ears, and with that accolade firmly rooted for the rest of my time on this earth, I bid his musical career adieu.
Merci beaucoup Neil, enjoy your retirement. As you've most certainly earned it.
"I don't have faith in faith, I don't believe in belief. You may call me faithless. I still cling to hope, and I believe in love... that's faith enough for me" - Faithless, 2007.
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