Neil Peart: Suddenly You Were Gone

Yesterday afternoon, at 2:26, I was working from home. I was on a deadline and waiting for materials from a coworker. I felt my phone vibrate its distinct incoming text message vibration. In my mind the chances were—30% work related, 70% spam text. I hate spam texts and I get them constantly. I hate getting them so much, I often don’t even bother looking at my phone right away when I feel it vibrate. But in this case, I was waiting on info regarding my work deadline, so I took a look right away. The text read:

“Dude. Neil Peart died.”

Never before had I so wished I had received a spam text.

I sat looking at the text from my good friend, Bill. I had no idea how to respond. He texted again saying he had read it on rollingstone.com. Then he texted again:

“I would never have gotten into Rush without you turning me on to them. What a tragic loss. I’m bummed.”

I stared at my phone screen, disbelieving. I was in denial. My rational brain knew it must be true, but I held out hope that it was some rumor gone bad or a cruel hoax. I quickly logged on to Twitter where I am connected to the official Rush band page, dozens of fan pages, and over a hundred other diehard Rush fans. As soon as I logged on I saw the tweet from Rolling Stone:

“Rush’s Neil Peart, the Hall of Fame drummer who set a new standard for rock virtuosity, has died at 67.”

It was true.

I clicked on the link to the article and read that he had been battling brain cancer for three-and-a-half years. Nobody outside of his inner circle knew. He was a very private man, so this was not all that surprising. The death, of course, was a surprise, but the fact that he kept his illness hidden was not. I could not bring myself to read past the first paragraph. I finally texted Bill back:

“Thank you for letting me know. My day is ruined.”

At this point my wife was walking by and, unable to speak, I just pointed to my computer screen with the headline on it. She looked and gasped, “Oh no!” She scanned the first paragraph of the article then asked me if my friend Roger had posted anything yet. Roger is a muckety muck at SiriusXM, a drummer, and a longtime Rush fan. I told her that I was on a deadline and had not been on Facebook, so I hadn’t seen anything from him. Moments later my phone vibrated…it was Roger. He wrote:

“Andrew…not sure u know…Very sad news that Neil Peart has passed away. I am devastated.”

I told him I knew and I too, was devastated. I refocused on my work. Five minutes later my phone vibrated again. Really, I’m not usually this popular. This time it was my friend Chris texting me the news with a sad face emoji. Chris has a significant place in my Rush life, as I went with him to my first Rush concert back in 1986. We exchanged texts of commiseration. I yet again refocused on my work. Five minutes later my phone rang and I saw that it was my friend Ken.

Ken has the distinction of being the person I have seen the most concerts with and talked the most Rush with over my lifetime. When I saw his name on my phone I debated not answering for two reasons: 1) I had this damn deadline! 2) I wasn’t sure I could compose myself. I answered the phone with, “I know.”

For the next few minutes he did most of the talking, while I struggled to say a word or two here or there without losing it. He soon realized I was in pain and said, “Look at it this way, Drew—we got to see them play in Canada! How cool is that?”

He was right, it was extremely cool. In June of 1997 I flew from Arizona to New York. On the 25^th of that month I went with Ken to see Rush in New York at Jones Beach. Then, a few days later we made the eight hour drive to Toronto to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing Rush live in their hometown. It was an incredible experience. On the phone, back in 2020, I mumbled my agreement about the coolness of that experience.

Then he said, “And we actually got our wives into Rush! How cool is that?”

That was pretty darn cool, too. It is well-documented that there are not a lot of female Rush fans. Certainly there are some that are very hardcore, but the reality is that the vast majority of Rush fans have a Y chromosome. That I have been able to turn my wife on to Rush has been awesome. Sharing your favorite music with the person you love most is a blessing. So again, I mumbled my agreement.

Choking back my emotions, I told Ken I had to get back to my deadline, which was true. I got off the phone and concentrated on the work in front of me. Fortunately, I had gotten the materials I needed from my coworker and he had done an excellent job, making things easy for me. In less than half an hour I was finished with my assignment and the deadline was met. I decided to look at Facebook and saw dozens of my friends posting about their grief at the loss of The Professor.

As I scrolled through the posts, some from friends I knew were Rush fans, others from friends whose Rush love I was previously unaware of, I came across one post that stopped me in my tracks. It was a tribute to Neil from my friend Vic, who played the most pivotal role in my connection to Rush…by making me aware that they existed!

Vic and I were not close friends—really just high school acquaintances. But we were in a play together in 1984 and one day, while we were in the music room waiting for our rehearsal to start, he sat down at the piano and started playing a song. The opening chords piqued my interest immediately and I walked over and asked what it was.

“It’s ‘Subdivisions’ by Rush,” he said.

“Who are they?” I asked, intrigued.

“They’re an incredible band. The album is Signals. You have to get it,” he said.

And I did get it that weekend. I came home, plugged in my headphones, put the needle on the vinyl and listened. There were the distinctive opening chords on the song Vic had played, soon followed by these lyrics:

Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown

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

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…

I was a geeky 15-year-old kid. I had friends, but still felt like an awkward outcast, as many kids at that age do.  I was a very literary kid and loved well-written song lyrics, but never had I heard lyrics that connected with me this deeply matched with music of such virtuosity. I listened to the entire album enthralled. Then I listened again. I couldn’t stop listening, in fact.

Soon I bought more Rush albums and they quickly became my favorite band. I bought posters, magazines, buttons—anything I could get my hands on that was Rush-related. I learned all about the three band members: singer/bassist, Geddy Lee, guitarist, Alex Lifeson, and drummer/lyricist Neil Peart.

I had a huge appreciation for all three men, but the one who I found most compelling was Neil Peart. It was clear that his drumming skills were unbelievable. The fullness and complexity of what he was doing with his drum kit was matched by no one. But really all three players were amazing at their instruments. The thing that fascinated me most about Neil, though, was the lyrics. Nobody wrote lyrics that were so simultaneously intellectual and heartfelt. Who else uses the word “geometric” in their lyrics and manages to pull it off??? The man was a poet.

Since hearing of his death, Neil’s lyrics keep on going through my head. Upon first learning of the news, I thought:

Suddenly you were gone, from all the lives you left your mark upon – “Afterimage”

As I continued to process how I felt about it, I thought:

When I heard that he was gone, I felt a shadow cross my heart. – “Nobody’s Hero”

When I considered the legacy he would leave, I thought:

The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect. – “The Garden”

And when I thought about Neil’s relationship with his fans, I thought:

I can’t pretend a stranger is a long awaited friend. – “Limelight”

As mentioned previously, Neil Peart was a very private man. Unlike Geddy and Alex, who are happy to mingle with fans, Neil has always kept his admirers at arm’s length. Last night, in honor of Neil’s passing, I pulled out my DVD of the Rush documentary, Beyond the Lighted Stage for my wife and I to watch. I knew there was a lot of interview footage of Neil, and I wanted to hear from the man firsthand. At one point he addresses his distance from his fans by saying, “I’m not a sourpuss, I’m just shy.” And I can relate. If ever achieved fame, I think I might be similarly embarrassed by the attention that comes with it and avoid interactions with fans for that reason.

Yet for all his shyness and his avoidance of interaction with the public, in some ways I think Neil Peart was the most accessible of the band members. He put himself out there for the world to see through his lyrics of hundreds of songs and the eight books he wrote about his various travels. His writing was earnest and forthright and painted a picture of a deep thinker with a strong moral compass who was hopeful that man’s better nature would win out. In “Closer to the Heart,” one of Rush’s most iconic songs, he wrote:

And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart

An excellent sentiment, indeed—especially for the times in which we currently live.

So I may not have known Neil personally, but I still feel like I knew him quite well. His words will live on, his music will live on, and for the moment, the pain of his absence will live on. As another line from “Afterimage” states:

Tried to believe but you know it's no good
This is something that just can't be understood

Farewell, Mr. Peart. You have touched myself and millions of other fans in ways that just can’t be understood.

My Eight Desert Island Songs

Recently, a friend of mine posted the following question in an online rock music forum that we participate in: What are your eight Desert Island songs? Of course we’ve heard this question—and a variety of variants of this question—many times before. In this hypothetical scenario, we somehow end up on a deserted island and the mysterious all-powerful entity that placed us there allows us to choose eight, and only eight, songs to listen to over and over again. It’s unclear how we’re listening to these songs—mp3 player, CD, mixed tape, Victrola—but, the point is we can hear nothing else but these songs for the rest of eternity, so we better make some wise choices.

As a point of interest, my friend posted this question because he came across an article in which Bruce Springsteen was posed this query. Bruce’s choices were: Elvis Presley – “Hound Dog;” The Beatles – “I Want to Hold Your Hand;” The Rolling Stones – “It’s All Over Now;” Van Morrison – “Madame George;” Marvin Gaye – “What’s Going On;” James Brown – “Out of Sight;” The Four Tops – “Baby I Need Your Loving;” and Bob Dylan – “Like a Rolling Stone.” A respectable list, to say the least.

Clearly, the song choices of Springsteen, one of the most successful solo artists in the history of rock, will be of more interest to most than that of Schwartzberg, whose musical career consisted of four months of piano lessons as a child followed by an occasional drunken karaoke session in his 20s. But alas, seeing as how I write this blog, I’m going to share Schwartzberg’s list of eight desert island songs anyway, and nobody—not even The Boss, can stop me.

Be aware that the list below is in no special order, other than the order in which I happened to think of the songs. So, without further ado, here are the eight songs I would listen to over and over again throughout eternity, and the rationale behind each.

“Born to Run” – Bruce Springsteen
No, it’s not just because this list was inspired by Springsteen’s list that I picked this song. It’s because he’s far and away my favorite solo artist and this song introduced me to him. And every time I hear this song, I drop everything and give it my full attention. There is an urgency about this song—a driving force that sucks me in and gets my heart pounding and my temperature rising. I know this song has gotten endless airplay, but to me it can never be overplayed. It is passionate, alive and immediate. When I’m on my desert island and I need a sure shot of pure adrenaline, this will be my go to song.

“Roundabout” – Yes
This is the song I’ve cited as my favorite song for close to 30 years, now, and with good reason, I believe. This is 8 minutes and 29 seconds of the greatest, mind-bogglingly complex musicianship you will ever hear on a rock song. Rick Wakeman on keyboards, Steve Howe on guitar, Chris Squire on bass, Bill Bruford on drums, and Jon Anderson on vocals are unparalleled in their craft and each blows my mind at different points in the song. Actually, in some cases they blow my mind at the same point in the song. You know how they say if pregnant women play classical music while their baby is in the womb it will increase their baby’s intelligence? My theory is that if a pregnant woman ever decided to put “Roundabout” on constant rotation for the entire duration of her pregnancy, the being that she would birth would end up making Stephen Hawking look like Pauly Shore. And on a desert island, I would need all the intelligence I could muster.

“Subdivisions” – Rush
Just as Springsteen is far and away my favorite solo artist, Rush is far and away my favorite band, and “Subdivisions” is the song that introduced me to them. While the song is great musically and lyrically (it’s about being a loner in a suburban world of conformity) it is actually not my favorite Rush song. But, because this song turned me on to the band that would go on to make up such a core part of my psyche from age 16 onward, its significance cannot be denied. Being without this song would be like being without a limb, and if I were on a desert island, I would definitely need all my limbs intact.

“Birdhouse in Your Soul” – They Might Be Giants
If you are living by yourself on a deserted island, I would imagine despair might be a pretty major issue, so it occurred to me that I would need at least one song guaranteed to lift my spirits, and this was the obvious choice for me. To my mind, there is no band more fun than They Might Be Giants and no song of theirs more joyous than “Birdhouse in Your Soul.” The lyrics are somewhere between whimsical and nonsensical (“Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch/Who watches over you/Make a little birdhouse in your soul”) and its matched with music that is peppy and uplifting. Ever since I discovered this song in the early 1990s it has been my go to song when I needed cheering up. Indeed, it’s like musical Prozac and on my desert island I would take a daily dose.

“Hello” – Lionel Richie
Okay, stop snickering. The truth is, I was a huge Lionel Richie fan in junior high school when he was at the peak of his popularity. And when this song was released in early 1984, as ninth grade was coming to an end, I had a massive crush on a girl named Elizabeth. I played this song endlessly as I pined after this girl and the song has come to represent yearning for something that cannot be obtained. Of course, nothing ever happened between Elizabeth and I, and once 10^th grade started she was long forgotten when a new crush surfaced. But the song “Hello” is part of the fiber of my being and I would play it on my desert island when wistfulness and longing were the order of the day.

“Dance With You” – Live
For me, this song is the antidote to “Hello.” Instead of unrequited love, it represents pure, mutual love.  It is the theme song to the early days of my relationship with my wife and was the first dance at our wedding. Live is a band that my wife and I both loved prior to meeting, so when we started dating and found we had a mutual admiration for their music, it became “our band” together. Less than three months after we started dating, Live released the album The Distance to Here and “Dance With You” was the final track. It’s a song about how two people wrestling with inner demons find peace in their love for one another. It was, and is, our song. So, if I were alone on a desert island, I would need to have the musical representation of my wife with me, and that’s what this song is.

“Because the Night” – 10,000 Maniacs
After thinking about how my wife would be represented in my musical selections it suddenly occurred to me that I had no women’s voices in any of the songs I had picked. How horrible it would be to go through the rest of life without ever hearing a female voice ever again. And as soon as I had that thought I knew that the voice I would have to hear would be Natalie Merchant’s, as she is my favorite female vocalist by a very wide margin. At first I pondered her solo career, which has produced so many songs I love, and then I thought about her time with 10,000 Maniacs, which likewise, has dozens of great tracks. But then I remembered this song—a Bruce Springsteen cover, which the 10,000 Maniacs played on MTV Unplugged in 1993. I already liked this song, but their take on it is hauntingly beautiful and it quickly became one of my favorites. But I’m also picking this song because it is from a live album and there is applause at the beginning and end of the track, so if, while on my island, I want to feel like there are others with me, this is a great track to play.

“Help!” – The Beatles
I knew from the beginning of this exercise that one of my eight songs was going to have to be a Beatles song. There was no way I was going to commit to never hearing a Beatles song again. So when I got through my first seven and still hadn’t picked a song from the Fab Four, I refocused my energy on their catalog. I quickly realized that this task was nearly impossible. No band has more great songs than the Beatles, so how was I going to narrow it down to just one? But then, like a lightning bolt, it suddenly occurred to me what song I would have to pick. It was so obvious. Not only was it a great song, but the title was the one word phrase I would likely utter most often while trapped on a desert island—“Help!” Sometimes the answer just stares you in the face.

A Farewell to Rush?

Tomorrow—August 1, 2015—marks the end of an era…probably. Rush, the reigning gods of progressive rock, will play the last show of their last major tour at the Forum, in Los Angeles, California. At least they are saying this is their last major tour. I, like many diehard Rush fans, are hoping they’re lying through their Canadian teeth. But, if the last 40 years of the band’s public life have proven anything, it’s that Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart are not like your typical egomaniacal, blustery, self-promotional rock stars—in other words, they’re probably telling the truth.

On July 27^th, I was fortunate to see Rush for the 12th—and likely, final—time in my life. I attended the concert at US Airways Center in beautiful, sunny Phoenix, Arizona—or as Rush proclaimed our city on a giant screen before they came on stage, “Vitamin D capital of the universe.”

The band was in top form and Geddy seemed to be hitting notes I don’t think I’ve heard him hit since the late 90s. This was particularly impressive considering it was the third to final show of a 35-show tour that started back in early May. And Neil and Alex were none too shabby either. On that note, I feel compelled here to say a few words about Alex Lifeson.

Rush is one of the few major bands in which the guitarist is the least talked about member. As the band’s affable, extroverted singer and bass player, Geddy Lee is Rush’s “front man” and often the focal point of major screen and print interviews. Rolling Stone ranked him #4 on a list of their greatest bass players of all time. As the band’s intellectual, introverted lyricist and drummer, Neil Peart has developed a mythic persona among Rush’s rabid fans. Rolling Stone ranked him #3 on a list of their greatest drummers of all time. (A ranking that most Rush fans were probably mortally wounded by.)

But what of Alex Lifeson, the band’s stalwart guitarist? Ranked #98 on Rolling Stone’s list of greatest guitarists, Alex, with a sardonic wit that often leaves his bandmates paralyzed with laughter, seems to revel in his role as third fiddle. In the 2010 documentary about the band, Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage, there’s a great scene in which Geddy and Alex are eating in a small diner. When the waitress recognizes Geddy, she excitedly comes over and asks for his autograph. As Geddy graciously signs for the woman he points to Alex and tells her who he is. The waitress politely smiles and nods and focuses her attention back on Geddy, completely ignoring Alex, who happily continues to chomp on his sandwich undisturbed. You can see that he’s fine with being left to his food while the attention is heaped on his bandmate—in fact, he somewhat relishes it.

Yes, Alex is ignored, but oy vey, can this man play. I spent a large portion of the concert staring in amazement at the hands of this 61-year-old, heavyset man, as he completely shredded on his guitar.  The set list started with songs from their most recent album, Clockwork Angels and proceeded to go back in time, album by album (although four albums were skipped) until they ended the show with “Working Man,” from their 1974 self-titled debut album. And Alex played like a madman every step of the way. Having seen him eleven times previously, this didn’t surprise me, but I always like to be reminded of the virtuoso skills of Rush’s least heralded member.

A Rush show is more than just a concert—it is an epic theatrical experience. It not only features amazing musicianship, but also psychedelic lasers (see below), comic video interludes featuring the likes of Paul Rudd, Jason Segel, Peter Dinklage, Jay Baruchel, and Eugene Levy, and lots and lots of geeky, middle-aged men head-banging in unison. Indeed the intermission of a Rush show is one of the few places on the planet where the line to the men’s room is significantly longer than the line to the women’s room.

If this past Monday’s show was, indeed, the last time I will have seen Rush live, I have to say they left me happy. They couldn’t possibly play every one of my favorite songs of theirs since that would take them the better part of seven hours, and their show was only three, but they did sneak some hidden gems into the set along with their more popular stuff. In fact, one song, “What You’re Doing” was played for the first time since 1977—nine years before my first show!

So with that, I now wish Rush a fond farewell. But Geddy, Alex, and Neil, please take note—if I ever become a billionaire, I will pay you handily to do one last show…which will last seven hours and contain a set list handpicked by me, personally. Here’s to hoping I get to show number 13.

Photos by John Jones

I May Be Out of Touch, But I Still Have a Top Ten List

Yesterday a friend of mine posted a list of his top ten favorite albums of 2012. (It can be found here, if you would like to peruse it: http://lengutman.com/2012/12/12/lens-top-10-albums-of-2012.) I looked at the list and it was just a little bit like reading a foreign language. I knew none of the albums and only heard of five of the artists. Then I thought about what my top ten albums of 2012 might be and I realized that I could only name two albums that came out this year, which would make my top ten list very short. Somewhere along the line I became really, really out of touch.

But just because I only got two new albums this year doesn’t mean 2012 was devoid of music for me. So, since I’m eight albums short of a top ten albums list, I will instead offer this list of my Top 10 Music-Related Moments of 2012. (And I’ll go backwards for dramatic effect.)

10- Red Hot Chili Peppers Concert – My wife gave me one of the best birthday presents I ever received when she handed me a ticket to see the Chili Peppers, a band I’ve always wanted to see but just never got around to. The show was great, but it did raise two important questions: 1) Why does Anthony Kiedis bother putting on a shirt when you know it’s coming off anyway? 2) Since when did Will Ferrell get a gig as a drummer?

9- Wrecking Ball by Bruce Springsteen – This is one of the two albums I got this year. I love the first track, “We Take Care of Our Own,” and I really like the last track, “We Are Alive,” but I’m not quite sure what to make of everything that happens in the middle. It seems to depend on the day that I listen to it and/or what I had for dinner that night. Weird.

8- My son the Rush fan – (I posted this on Facebook, so my apologies to those who have already read this.) In school last week, my son’s Kindergarten teacher said to the class, "After recess we are going to see a band." This prompted my son to yell out, "I hope it's Rush!" She said, "No, it's just the school band." He’s definitely learning more at home than at school.

7- They Might Be Giants Concert – One of my favorite bands from the early 90’s, I had somehow never managed to see them live…that is until I saw them at the Marquee Theatre in Tempe in January of this year. They were very good, but I didn’t know many of the songs since the last new album of theirs that I purchased was back in 1996. (See—out of touch.) The highlight of the show by far was when they did covers of “Crazy Train” and “Paranoid” using sock puppets. (And no, I’m not making that up.)

6- My last dental cleaning – I’m not a fan of sharp instruments moving around in my mouth accompanied by high-pitched drilling sounds. At my last dental cleaning, when the hygienist was hitting a nerve near my back molar, I put every ounce of brain power into focusing on the music they were piping into the room. All I can say is thank you REO Speedwagon for providing me with the song “Can’t Fight This Feeling” in my time of need.

5- Rush Concert – I could write a lot about this concert…oh wait—I already did. You can read my previous blog entry for details.

4- Rush elected to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame – Fourteen years after their initial eligibility, Rush finally made it to the Hall. Although I’m not actually in the band, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The day I found out I got the best night’s sleep of my life. (Don’t worry, it’s okay if you think I’m pathetic right now.)

3- Kazoos – I made the mistake of getting my kids kazoos when I went on a business trip to Nashville. They played them a lot after I first gave it to them. The most amazing sound in the world is the glorious silence after they put them down.

2- Bruce Springsteen Concert – I’ve seen him twice before and I had not originally planned to see him on this tour, but then a friend had an extra ticket and he generously offered it to me. Boy, am I glad I took him up on the offer. Bruce put on an amazing show for three solid hours and while I watched this man who is 20 years older than me run around the stage, jump into the audience and crowd-surf, I realized that if I attempted to expend that kind of energy I’d be dead inside of six minutes.

1- Clockwork Angels by Rush – You may have figured out by now that I’m a Rush fan. (If you haven’t figured that out, you may want to take some basic reading comprehension classes at your local community college.) This is their best album in a good 20 years. It has a great variety of heavy, musically complex epic songs and more straightforward ballads. It’s quite possible that even if you’re not a Rush fan, you might like this album, but of course, I can’t be objective on that score. I’m not sure what else to say about it, other than, this album makes my ears very happy.

So there you have it; my 2012 musical top ten. I'm not sure what 2013 has in store, but I can guarantee one thing...the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony will be very high on my list. (And no, that has nothing to do with Public Enemy.)

RUSH!!! Now with Strings!

Last night I went to US Airways Center and saw Rush for the eleventh time in my life. While it was not the best concert of theirs that I have seen—nor was it the worst—it was certainly the most unique.

For the uninitiated, Rush (pronounced like it is spelled), is a Canadian rock trio that has been churning out albums since 1974. They reached the height of their popularity in the early 1980s, with hits like “The Spirit of Radio,” “Tom Sawyer,” and “Subdivisions.” But while many people who were only casually aware of them during the Reagan-era think they have faded into obscurity, diehard fans like me know that they never went away—they simply aged gracefully like a fine wine.

Admitting that you’re a Rush fan generally elicits one of three responses: 1) a blank stare from the 99% of people under the age of 36 who have never heard of them; 2) a roll of the eyes from the 99% of women and 92% of men over the age of 36 who immediately stereotype you as a Mountain Dew swigging, Dungeons & Dragons playing, throwback geek who was into computers 15 years before everyone else; or 3) a spontaneous and very enthusiastic air drum display from those unaccounted for above who, like you, knows that Neil Peart is the greatest drummer who ever lived, ever will live, or can ever be created by a group of the world’s top scientists working 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the next 200 years.

While we’re on the topic of Neil, I’ll make my first observation about last night’s concert. To this day I’m always amazed that with the blistering speed at which Neil plays, his hands don’t simply snap off at the wrists and continue feverishly beating upon the drums independent of his arms. I’m pretty sure this is bound to happen one day, and I hope I’m there to witness it. (I don’t think this would faze him, as nothing seems to.)

The other players in the band are Geddy Lee (singer, bassist, and keyboardist) and Alex Lifeson (guitarist, backup vocals, and comedian.) Together, Geddy, Alex, and Neil create a wall of sound at once intense and thought-provoking. They are musical masters who never cease to amaze. And last night, after having seen them on nine previous tours since 1986, they amazed yet again—this time with the inclusion of a string section!

Now in the name of full disclosure I should say that the presence of a string section came as no shock to me. In my role as diehard Rush fan I follow them on Facebook and Twitter, frequently look at their website, and read all the magazine articles about them that I can get my hands on. So I had heard long ago that there would be a string section this time around. But hearing about it and actually experiencing it are two different things. I had no idea what to expect, but in a word—Wow!

And the thing about the “Wow” is that it comes not just from the musical aspect of the string section—though the music was great. The “Wow” comes largely from the off-the-charts energy that these eight musicians brought to the stage.

The string section entered for the second set, which was composed mainly of songs from Rush’s new album, “Clockwork Angels.” (In my opinion their best album in at least 20 years, in case you were wondering.) When they first appeared they were sitting, which is what I would have expected from a string section; but the second the music started they all jumped up and played their instruments standing the entire time. But they didn’t just play—they bopped, and rocked, and head-banged the whole time they were up there. When they didn’t need to play their instruments many of them were passionately thrusting their bows in the air in time with the music. Basically, they were acting like eight rabid fans that were handed violins and cellos and such and told to hang out on the stage with the band. It was an absolute blast to watch, because they were acting exactly as I would act if I were allowed up there. (Well, not exactly as I would act. They were actually playing their instruments well, whereas any effort I made to play a stringed instrument would likely come off sounding like the tortured wails of a dying yak.)

For me, the highlight of the show was the song “Headlong Flight,” from their new album, which is seven minutes of pure adrenaline surging rock. If you can listen to this song without having your pulse rate increase you are, in all likelihood, not actually human. Clearly, the players in the string section are all human, as they were going as ballistic on the stage during this song as the rest of the audience.

The show was not perfect. Yes, I’m a diehard Rush fan, but even within their canon I have likes and dislikes. Of their 165 original songs there are probably about 10 to 15 that I don’t actually like very much. Their set list happened to include five of those. (I mean, what are the odds?)  

But that’s okay. Last night was really about hearing them play a bunch of songs from their outstanding, super-stupendous new album; and about watching a rocking string section; and about waiting with bated breath for that elusive moment when Neil’s hands finally declare their total independence from his body. One day, Neil. One day.