Then, of course, I put the album on the turntable. Slowly placing side one up, I used the static brush to clean the surface of any unwanted dust. Even so, crackle, pop, and crackle sounded the needle through the speakers as the radically deep and descending synthesizer of the opening notes to Tom Sawyer began, the speakers shaking with the seemingly untamed bass and god-like percussives. Then, I heard the bizarrely weird and yet strangely attractive voice of Geddy Lee, pronouncing the lyrics as though from on high. “A modern-day warrior; mean mean stride; today’s Tom Sawyer; mean, mean pride. Though his mind is not for rent, don’t put him down as arrogant. His reserve is a quiet defense, riding out the day’s events.”
Without wallowing in any self-pity, let me just state that I did not enjoy the most idyllic childhood, at least on the domestic front. I had my books, my Batman comics, my imagination, and a few close friends. And, on foot and bike, I explored every nook and cranny of Hutchinson, Kansas, with a fervor not known since Lewis and Clark. I despised school, and I despised the brooding anger in my home between my mom and stepfather even more. My older brothers—much older—were out of the house permanently by the time I had entered seventh grade. I was alone when it came to dealing with my parents. Escape into the intellect and into the imagination became my overriding priorities, safeties, and securities in my life. When I did have to spend any time at home, I put on my headphones, I read science fiction, history, or comics, and I taught myself to type, hoping all the while that my stepfather wouldn’t bring the unchecked wrath of hell upon me. [My adult life, by the way, has been as blessed as my childhood was cursed. Amen!]
The intelligence and the conviction of Rush’s music spoke volumes to me. I didn’t have the confidence of a Tom Sawyer, but, by God, I wanted it. The lyrics of Moving Pictures seemed to have been written just for me—a confused loner trying to make sense of the world. The songs dealt with, in order, having integrity and being oneself; escape from an oppressive government; living with excellence; seeing mystery in the variations of life; fighting conformity and oppression; and, finally, embracing the spark of imagination. What more could any serious person want from art?
The following year, 1982, Rush released Signals, an album that sounded radically different from Moving Pictures in terms of its musical style, but continued the themes of integrity, morality, and individualism.
Growing up, it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass-production zone
Nowhere is the dreamer
Or the misfit so alone
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
–Neil Peart, 1982
In 1984, Rush released Grace Under Pressure, once again a new direction musically but continuing the same themes, lyrically. This album, though, possessed an apocalyptic feel, worrying about everything from concentration camps to artificial intelligence to ideological conformity. “Brother, can you spare another war, another wasteland, and another lost generation?” For a sophomore-year humanities seminar at the University of Notre Dame, spring 1988, I decided to test Peart’s ideas. Giving full credit to Peart himself, I wrote my semester-long paper using only the lyrics of Grace Under Pressure as the sole means to analyze not only the essence of the human person but also the person’s place in the world. The paper earned an A, thus convincing me that Peart is one of the great thinkers of the modern world.
Not only did Peart’s lyrics speak directly to me, but they also bestowed upon me immense strength at ages 13, 14, and 16, respectively. They continue to do so to this day. While I can’t give credit to Rush alone, I can state rather firmly and without exaggeration that the art of Rush, Tolkien, Batman, and Bradbury kept me alive during the horrors of domestic upheaval prior to the permanent escape, graduating from high school in 1986.
While I cannot speak to the abuses (or not) that others endured in the early 1980s, I can state with certainty that Peart’s words and ideas have shaped at least two generations of young men, all of whom came to age sometime in the 1970s through 1990s. Famed economist, cancer survivor, and all-around man of letters, Steve Horwitz, acknowledges that the three men of Rush have served as “constant companions” throughout his life, offering him not just friendship, but “spiritual renewal and inspiration. Their music, their lyrics, their ideas, their presentation, and their very lives have served, for Horwitz, as a model of the good life. “Now as I face down cancer, they are still there with me every step of the way, reminding me what it means to live a life worth living.” Renowned classical guitarist and award-winning national poet, Kevin McCormick, remembers his first meaningful encounter with the Canadian trio.
But there, in Rush, I was moved by not only the power and complexity of the music, but by words that took music and life seriously. The vast majority of the music of the rock of late seventies was celebrating the bacchanalian excesses of the “rock star.” Here was thinking-young man’s music: “But glittering prizes and endless compromises shatter the illusion of integrity.” It wasn’t particularly poetic, but in the context of the music it was filled with meaning. Rush were a band with something interesting to say about reality. And the album it came from, Permanent Waves, was filled with other reflections on the meaning of life and freedom and love—a tonic contrast to the incessant “sex, drugs and rock n roll” drivel that saturated the airwaves.
Philosopher and writer, the brilliant Damon Linker, of The Week, admits: “Rush combines unparalleled excellence in musicianship with uncommonly thoughtful, highly literate lyrics. When those two qualities unites with a with a real talent for melodic songwriting, there was simply no one better in the rock pantheon.”
Ed Stenger, who runs one of the two most successful Rush sites on the web, Rush is a Band (the other being Eric Hansen’s PowerWindows), explains Rush’s success perfectly:
Rush has remained relevant over their 40-plus year career due to their consistent commitment to excellence. With each album they push the boundaries of their art, but never compromise and never repeat themselves. Their musical style and lyrical subject matter may shift and evolve from album to album, but the musicianship, integrity and attention to detail are always there. Fans can always count on Rush being the same three guys – no drama, no breakups, and no nonsense – who consistently deliver great music that stands the test of time.
Though Rush more or less retired from touring on August 1, 2015, their fanbase remains as great, as deep, and as active as ever. Guitarist Alex Lifeson continues to play guitar, drummer and lyricist Neil Peart continues to write his best-selling travel memoirs, and bassist and singer Geddy Lee is releasing his arty Big Book of Bass this month. Rush memes pop up all over social media, and speculation continues about the future of the band.
Almost forty-five years after drummer Peart joined the band, Rush remains as inspirational today as it ever has. After all, this is a band that cautioned two generations:
Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight
The essence of the meaning of all Rush lyrics: love excellence and be yourself. Strangely enough, I learned all of this, initially, while being punished for a crime I don’t even remember. It was worth it, though. Those words, after all, have kept me afloat for almost four decades.