Mr. Peart

Another passing that feels as if it were that of a family member.  Drummer and lyricist extraordinaire of the band Rush, Neil Peart (pronounced Peert), lost a battle with brain cancer last week.  I learned of this while at work last Friday evening.  Gut. Punch.  Even though he famously wrote "I can't believe a stranger is a long awaited friend" in the tune "Limelight", I really felt I could've been, and he could've been.  Sometimes you feel like you know these people, even merely through their work.  Their artistry.  Hours of listening, but for me, not simply passive.  I felt an engagement, a connection.

I've written here many times about my decades long appreciation of the Canadian Power Trio.  Even when I moved away from obsessive listening I never lost my awe and respect for their complex, often heartfelt music.  Neil's incredible precision and creativity on the drums was matched by his writing ability, originally inspired by Ayn Rand but thankfully progressing and maturing nicely over the years.  Rush's lengthy sci-fi epics of the '70s gave way to more brevity in the '80s and beyond, though many (me included, somewhat) felt their music became less interesting.  But the intellect and heart always shone through.

I can't adequately express the enormity of Neil's and Rush's impact on my life.  As you'll read in a future eulogy, the music of Rush really helped me through my high school math courses.  The symbiosis of the music and trigonometry was undeniable, and made what was not my favorite subject really come alive.

Neil was by most accounts a very private, introverted individual.  But around loved ones a fun, even goofy dude.  Another reason why I felt a kinship.  R.I.P. good sir.