Music fans worldwide were devastated this week to learn of the passing of a man who many consider not only the greatest rock drummer of all time, but also a lyricist par excellence as well; Neil Peart of Rush. For me, as I am sure it was for thousands, if not millions of Rush fans, it felt like I lost a dear friend.
Rush was the first band that I became a fan of after a stretch of 5 or 6 years of listening to nothing but Kiss. I still remember the day at Boy Scout summer camp when I heard the crazy long-haired older kid from down the street playing this amazing band on his jambox. There was this long thundering intro that built up to a driving metal soundscape before crashing out into a soft voice that was singing...a Bible quote? What was this? Some Christian band? But wait, then this thunderous roar began again and the most high-pitched voice I had ever heard started singing a song about priests (I was a Catholic, so these words intrigued me) of some Temple named Syrinx. Then there was this song about a guitar, and how these priests flipped out over the discovery of said guitar, and how it was going to ruin the world like it did the world of “ancient man,” then there was a song with this guy dying by a waterfall, and finally a song about an alien force conquering the planet. I was HOOKED. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. From that moment I became a fan.
Rush fans are notorious for being nerds and geeks, whatever those words actually mean in the year 2020. It seems they are a badge of honor today, but trust me, not so in the 1980's. Rush fans were the original fanboys. Hell, go watch the movie that is called Fanboys where Rush fandom is portrayed as nerd-culture chic alongside the main storyline of the movie, which deals with Star Wars worship. As I was reminiscing about my early love for Rush, I realized that I may indeed be a candidate for the ultimate Rush geek. Because let me tell you, at that young impressionable age, this whole storyline concept thing that I was hearing on 2112 really fascinated me. And the wheels in my head started to turn.
Here's where the story takes a side turn for a brief moment. Gotta set the stage here...pun intended. Growing up in Ohio, we have this thing here called an “outdoor drama” in Chillicothe, Ohio. It's called Tecumseh, and it's a play that is presented in an outdoor amphitheater in a gorgeous natural setting, that depicts the life of the legendary Shawnee leader. Around the time I first heard 2112, my older sister had taken me to see Tecumseh. Also around this same time, I had been on vacation with my Dad and brother in Cherokee, North Carolina, where the three of us had watched another outdoor drama called Unto These Hills. This one depicted the history of the Cherokee Indian Tribe. I was very much a fan of both of these presentations, and I had a great idea to do something similar in my own back yard…..literally.
I rounded up the neighborhood gang, consisting of my younger brother, and the three kids who lived across the street. All five of us were within just a few years of each other in age. At this time, I was the only real rock music fan in the group, but I was quite the ambassador already. Through my skills of persuasion I managed to talk the other kids into the acting out of 2112 as our own outdoor drama, in front of our parents. It was on. This was no small presentation either. We had stage sets – a stone barbecue with a Rubik's cube placed on top of it served as the “Great Computer” of our Temple Of Syrinx, and after a quick set change the same stone structure served as the cave where the protagonist dies.
We had choreographed battle scenes when the aliens attacked, complete with live ammunition in the form of firecrackers and smoke bombs (this was the early 80's...safety concerns not quite being what they are today). My brother and the neighbor boy were in charge of the effects. They went a little overboard, placing a couple of smoke bombs right under the chairs of a few parents. I even wrote a libretto (which I wish I still had today), explaining the storyline of the album. It was neighborhood Broadway theater at its...finest? Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, no photos or any kind of permanent record exists of this performance. I don't think any of the parents snapped any Polaroids (and if they did, I've never seen any), and there was definitely no social media then. So you're just going to have to take my word for it that this display of nerdiness actually happened.
The outdoor drama wasn't the only way I overindulged on Rush as a youth. The live album All The World's A Stage, coincidentally recorded on the 2112 tour, became the soundtrack whenever I wanted to play “rock band.” At one point I actually had my entire room converted into a “stage” where I “performed” that album, along with selections from Kiss Alive I & II “in concert” on a daily basis. I even recruited my Dad's assistance in this endeavor, making use of his carpentry skills to help me create air-guitars of the highest quality. I had Les Paul copies, Stratocaster copies, and of course I had a Rickenbacker Geddy Lee-style bass. None of these guitars had actual strings on them, or actually worked. If only I had put as much effort into learning to play a real instrument as I did in posing and rocking out with my models, I might have actually accomplished something as an adult musician.
I was fortunate enough when I got older to actually see the real Rush in concert. I eventually saw them 18 times over the years. I never missed a show in whatever locality I was living. And every time I saw them, I became that same little kid, acting out his fantasies in front of a large mirror and dreaming of the day I could set foot on that stage myself.
I am deeply saddened over the death of Neil Peart, but I will choose to reflect on all of the joy that he brought to my life, beginning in those storied days of youth, when anything seemed possible. - Kevin M.
