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Neil Peart was the drummer and lyricist for my favorite band, RUSH, whose music has been an obsession of mine since middle school. But setting aside the band and it’s music for a moment, Neil had other ways of impacting my life.
I was fortunate to be introduced to RUSH at a time when music was released on vinyl and most albums contained a full set of song lyrics. Most songs of the era were about getting lucky in the backseat of a car so it was jarring to stumble upon a band where the lyrics demanded your attention and analysis. There were science fiction and fantasy settings such as 2112 or Red Barchetta but also insightful and heartfelt expressions of love and relationships (Entre Nous) or fame and alienation (Limelight). Every word was intentional, thoughtful and beautiful.
By high school I had used Neil’s lyrics as a jumping off point to learn more about his literary influences. If Ayn Rand and Hemingway were referenced in his lyrics then those became avenues of exploration for me. By 13 years old I had Samuel Coleride, Cervantes, Shakespeare, and many others on my reading list. It wasn’t just me — many other RUSH fans did the same thing. Neil seemed to want to know everything about everything and he continued to read (and eventually publish essays and books) throughout his life. He set an example that learning was interesting and important and that it could be done outside of school.
His lifelong studies went beyond books and he even continued to take drum lessons for years after he was already considered arguably the greatest rock drummer of all-time. He rode his bicycle all over Africa and explored on skis and snowshoes in Canada. He learned about birds and trees and kept detailed travel journals. The man was an explorer at heart, eschewing cities and highways for the smallest dirt roads he could travel.
Another unexpected example of Neil’s influence is in his appreciation for life and his capacity for change. For many years Neil seemed to enjoy books more than people. He is quoted as saying “Life is great but people suck.” He was painfully shy, not knowing how to handle adulation, and enjoyed the solitude of remote places on his bicycle and, eventually, his motorcycle. He did his best to avoid interviews and especially rabid RUSH fans. Neil wasn’t unfriendly but he preferred to chat with strangers in roadside diners or with other motorcyclists where they could interact as peers instead of as fan and rock god.
In one tragic year, Neil lost his 19-year old daughter to a car accident as she drove off to start college and then his wife to cancer, which he attributed to her unceasing grief. To deal with that tragedy he could do nothing more than to just keep moving, setting off on an epic solo motorcycle journey covering thousands of miles all over North America. Trying to put the pieces of his life back together again he eventually found friendship and love again, flipping his entire world view around — “life sucks but people are great.” Books and motorcycles and nature and exploration are wonderful things but life is hard and the most important thing of all is connecting with good people and sharing each other’s burdens. Neil’s ability to live through this and come out the other side with an improved outlook on life was inspirational and something I took solace in during dark times of my own.
Neil seemed happy and at peace in his later years, sharing more and more of himself through his books and essays, spending more time teaching and sharing things he’d learned. He got to soak up his fans’ adoration in small doses as well, coming to terms with his influence and inspiration on other drummers. After retiring from RUSH and from drumming altogether, he spent his last several years with his new wife and his young daughter. As much as I loved the final RUSH tour, I’d have happily given that time back to him to let his family have more time with him. But, of course, we never know what is on the horizon.
