origin story Fast car rides, my dad’s wild driving first in the Audi and then the Pilot, his drumming fingers against the steering wheel pounding to the thumping of the CD, humming along to the beat and then progressing to singing, quietly at first and then belting along with the track like there was nothing else besides him and the music. It was really the only times I would heard my dad singing along to anything back then, back before he softened up with age. After finally advancing to the front seat once I was old enough, I could hear him that much better, always switching between the same few CDs even though the Pilot had a much more advanced radio than the van did. Sometimes it would be Creed, sometimes Muse, sometimes Red, but it was always, always Rush. These memories flood my head whenever a Rush song peppers my playlist, nestled in among 80’s one-hitwonders, Disney soundtracks, angsty teen jams, movie scores, or whatever else my eclectic, schizophrenic Spotify creations have to offer. But no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I return back to that car, back to those rides with my dad and the feeling of home whenever the unmistakable shrill voice of Geddy Lee echoes from whatever device I’m listening on. For me, the songs are a place of nostalgia and safety, like a warm blanket amidst the craziness of everything else. Rush is almost like a grounding point; it reminds me of where I come from, life in the past, and how far my life has come since then.
2112
It’s one for all, all for one
we work together,
common sons
Never need to wonder how or why
we are the priests Of the Temples of Syrinx
in the beginning... Growing up when Rush was in their very beginnings, my Dad had the privilege of raising himself on their music. He grew up in Bloomington, Illinois; right in the heart of Midwest America where rock and roll skyrocketed. If a band couldn’t make it in the Midwest, they wouldn’t survive anywhere else in the U.S. Luckily for my dad, Rush didn’t just make it; they helped shape the entire rock and roll culture of not only one era, but several. Touring with Kiss from 1974-75, Rush started becoming more and more popular. Their fame before then though was nonexistent. Originally a Canadian band, Rush mainly played at high school functions and bars (once they reached drinking age of course). The lead singer, Geddy Lee and guitarist Alex Lifeson were childhood friends who bonded over being the weird kids at school. Lee’s parents were Holocaust survivors and Lifeson’s were Serbian immigrants, and so the two found connection over the idea of not really belonging. When drummer Neil Peart joined in 1974, replacing the original drummer John Rutsey, the three were a little slow to hit it off. Peart was seen as kind of a nerd by the other two, always reading books and coming
up with outlandish ideas for lyrics and songs. He remains to this day the (affectionately named) “new kid” in the band. Even though Niel was sort of the reading geek, his wide scope of literature helped him to craft what would become the band’s main identity; their lyrical prowess. The band only became noticed when their single, “Working Man,” was picked up by Mercury Records in the U.S. It resonated with the blue collar workers of the Midwest; the lyrics, “I got no time for livin’. Yes, I’m workin’ all the time... It seems to me I could live my life a lot better than I think I am. I guess that’s why they call me, they call me the workin’ man.” so accurately reflected the frustrations of the 9-5 laborers who could relate to the idea that they could be living so much better, for so much more, and yet the identity of being a worker and having to provide for oneself and one’s family wasn’t a burden they could easily shake.
I think this is the song that had my dad fall in love with Rush; because he knew this was the life he was destined for, and wanted to rebel against that. Being the oldest from a broken home, my dad took care of his siblings, especially his brother with down syndrome. His mom, my grandma Sandy, was a hairdresser who struggled to put food on the table, and who ended up marrying and divorcing the same man three times over the course of my dad’s childhood, a man who abused and fought with my dad about just everything. This relationship and the strain of having to mature much too quickly for a kid his age led my dad to lose himself in music; playing, listening, creating - all of it. It’s no wonder he found Rush so early on because of their lyrical genius. They became a haven and an inspiration, and much of what led him to starting his own band.
After releasing two albums in 1975, Rush decided to go experimental. They wanted to create a music experience for their new album, although their label didn’t want another “concept” album. Rush ignored the advice given to them and crafted a storyline based in the future in which a galaxy-wide war results in the union of all planets under the rule of the Red Star of the Solar Federation. According to the storyline, by 2112 the world is controlled by the “Priests of the Temples of Syrinx,” who determine the content of all reading matter, songs, pictures – every facet of life, hence the album’s name 2112. It was weird, it was bizarre, and it was a risky move for everyone involved, especially after their last album was met with minimal success.
To the surprise of pretty much everyone, audiences loved it. The album went platinum in Canada and led to a tour around the country and in the States. This success granted the band to essentially do whatever the heck they wanted after that without forced direction from their label. Lifeson said of their album, “We don’t want to change what people think about rock and roll, we just want to show them what we think about it.” Clearly their thoughts were appreciated by the masses.
signals
Any escape migh t h el p t o s moot h T he unatt rac t iv e t rut h But the suburbs h av e n o c h a rms to so o th e T he restles s d rea ms of yout h
G r ow i n g u p , i t a l l s e e m s s o o n e - s i d e d O p i n i o n s a l l p r ov i d e d The future pre-decided D e tac h e d a n d s u b d i v i d e d In the mass-production zone
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls Conform or be cast out
s ub d iv i s i ions In the basement bars In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out
s ub d iv i
ons
revenge of the synth By 1980 and a relocation to the U.K., Rush became one of the most popular bands in the world. They continued to integrate unexpected twists into their music like reggae, New Wave, ska, and funk. When Signals was released in 1982, Rush’s sound underwent yet another change. Synthesizers were now at the forefront of the group’s music, which turned some fans off to their music. Some claimed it didn’t feel or sound like Rush anymore, but my dad would disagree. At seventeen years old, he saw this as an opportunity to be experimental and wild with his own music. For some reason, he just understood computers, machines, and electronics without ever being trained, and so synthesizers were like a new play toy. It created another depth of sound and texture to music that was unprecedented and something that rebelled against the norm; something my father was a pro at at this point. Signals included Rush’s only Top 40 hit single in the U.S., “New World Man,” although the song that made this album stand apart was the opening track, “Subdivisions.” The song’s lyrics, “Any escape might help to smooth The unattractive truth But the suburbs have no charms to soothe The restless dreams of youth… Subdivisions In the high school halls In the shopping malls Conform or be cast out Subdivisions In the basement bars In the backs of cars Be cool or be cast out” speak to the outcasts of society and the pressure everyone faces, but especially those who are considered “uncool,” and are therefore cast out. It spoke to a lot of teenagers and the youth of the ’80’s who felt out of place everywhere, much like my dad. Music was an escape for them and for him.
“
I was certainly an outcast. I think that’s why a lot of our fans identify with us.
”
- Geddy Lee
Moving to Martha’s Vineyard with his band and escaping the drudgery of a pre-destined 9-5 workweek, my dad said goodbye to all the trials and tribulations he faced at home. It was a complete change of pace to move from the slow and steady Bloomington, Illinois to the bustling, lively Massachusetts. Band life was insane in the ’80’s, especially with him and his band mates living off of barely enough wages to pay rent while the rest was spent on beer, cigarettes, and who knows what else. It was wild, it was rash, it was chaotic, but it was a time where the experimental and untamed were applauded. Although my dad lived the lawless lifestyle of an ’80’s drummer (as most people in the music scene did), the members of Rush remained the opposite. Even during their tours with Kiss in the ’70’s, Gene Simmons (lead singer of Kiss) was shocked by the band’s demeanor. After shows when everyone would return back to the hotel to party, drink, and mess around, Geddy, Alex, and Neil could be found back in their own rooms, watching hockey or reading books. The contrast of lifestyles between what was expected for rock stars in the ’70’s and ’80’s versus how the members of Rush conducted themselves is a testament to their characters; humble, modest guys from Canada who find fulfillment and pleasure in the music alone.
The group laid low after the release of Signals and spent less time touring and on the road during the rest of the ’80’s. Regardless of the low profile, their albums continued to go gold or platinum. They continued to release albums such as Presto, Counterparts, and Test for Echo from 1989 - 1996, but in 1997, unexpected tragedy jolted the band into an unforeseen five year hiatus.
snakes & arrows
I’ve been workin’ them angels overtime Riding and driving and living
so close to the edge
Workin’ them angels Workin’ them angels Workin’ them angels overtime
return of the king On August 10, 1997, immediately following Rush’s Test For Echo tour, Peart’s daughter (and only child) died in a car accident, and his wife died from cancer 10 months later. This hardship sent Peart on a trip across the country where he rode his motorcycle from small town to small town, flying completely under the radar despite the superstars that the Rush members had become. His experiences prompted him to write his second book, Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road. During his time on the road, Peart severed all contact from anyone, writing only postcards here and there to his band mates using nicknames or aliases. No one knew if the band would ever reunite and continue to play, or if tragedies would keep them separated for good.
In 2002, the three artists met up and decided to keep playing. Music was not just their livelihood, but a part of their souls. No calamity or hardship that life could throw their way would keep them from doing what they were destined for. For the first time since the ’70’s, Rush did not use a single synthesizer, organ or other keyboard on the album, but returned to the use of raw instrumental sounds with the release of their album Vapor Trails. The three played together seamlessly, as if the five years apart had never happened.
Rush’s music speaks a language that is universal and is able to communicate emotions that can be hard to express. The lyrics articulate people’s hidden, inmost thoughts and bring them to life, giving a voice to those who have a difficult time expressing themselves otherwise. It gives people connection and identity, and allows them to share that part of themselves with others. It’s what makes my father and I so close and able to talk to each other without words, and how I’m able to understand him without him having to say anything other than, “Listen to this song.” Over the course of 40 years, Rush has touched peoples hearts, inspired new generations of artists, and redefined what was possible for an entire genre of music.
“
What is a master but a master student? And if that’s true, then there’s a responsibility on you to keep getting better and to explore avenues of your profession.
”
- Neil Peart