Partus the Seconde
I'm not a musician. I can't explain what was brilliant about
Peart's drumming. I can tell there's a lot more going on than most of the tap-tap-tap back
beats that most rock drummers do. The patterns are so elaborate, so demanding
of your attention. More like a story than a back beat. Which is entirely
appropriate, as Peart was a story teller as much as a drummer.
While I'm no
musician, and can't comment on his drumming (marvelous as I instinctively feel
it is), I am an English teacher, and so can definitely comment on his lyrics.
Rush's success, and in particular their
appeal to a certain class people, were in huge part due to Peart. True, each
member was essential, and Geddy and Alex composed the actual melodies that
stick in the head, but would they have quite such magical appeal had the lyrics
remained of the Pre-Peart quality?
(“Hey baby, it’s a quarter
to eight ! Feel I’m in the mood!”)
Possibly; Kiss made it huge on lyrics worse than that. But find me
a Rush fan who doesn’t quote them as often as sing them. . .
I’ve mentioned the science fiction themes already – to me those
were a huge part of their appeal. But even after Peart came down to earth, his
words remained uncannily relevant. Much has been made of his Ayn Randisms, but
apart from a few of his early tracks, he rarely sounded overtly ideological;
indeed, most of the songs seemed just attempts to make sense of a weird world,
and hardly incompatible with any reasonable political position - I don't think
any liberal could seriously object to most of what he wrote, which was deeply
humanistic and compassionate.
I mean, would anyone complain about the pre-chorus for "Far
Cry"?[i]
"It's a far cry from the world we thought we'd inherit. It's a far cry from the way we thought we'd share it."
Is this the sentiment of a heartless Social-Darwinian? If we keep
going, into the chorus of that song, we'll get deeper into the heart of what I
think drove him.
"Some day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel, and the next it's rolling over me."
A lot of it seems to be the musings of an intelligent, but occasionally bewildered individual trying to make sense of a weird world. A lot of people can relate to that. Rarely (if ever) has this yearning been expressed so succinctly in Rock music. Rarely has it been married so seamlessly to melodies which give it life.
Here’s the chorus of “Subdivisions”, my vote for most bonkers
vocal line ever:
“Any escape might help to soothe the unattractive truth that the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth.”
Who’d have thought to make that a song lyric? Well, Neil Peart.
And it works. In the song it works perfectly. But read it. A lot of people live
in suburbs, a lot of people find them soul crushing. Not a lot of songs address
that. Take it back to the pre-chorus, words which dominated the existence of
every kid who’s ever lived:
“Be cool or be cast out”.
Do these restless dreams of youth sound a bit like those described
in “Dreamtime”:
“We are young, wandering the face of the earth, wondering what our dreams might be worth, learning that we’re only immortal, for a limited time”.
Who in the category of “no longer quite-so-young” doesn’t
wistfully remember a time like that? Who, that does, can’t claim, as in
“Circumstances” that:
“Innocence gave me confidence to go up against reality”.
“Circumstances” goes on about confusion, disillusion, and isolation.
“These walls that still surround me, still contain the same old me”.
While so much Rock music obsesses, to an almost fetishistic
degree, of the energies and general concerns of youth, Rush under Peart, seemed
more concerned with the wisdom that can be accumulated by age, almost as
compensation for lost youth. There are precious few rock songs about aging
gracefully.
The pratfalls along the way are numerous. Sometimes, the
individual needs to build walls for protection. . .or barriers:
“One must put up barriers to keep oneself intact.”
“Limelight” was definitely Peart's most autobiographical song, the
one where he tried to explain his aloofness to the adoring crowds, that he
simply “had no heart to lie.” But we hide our authentic selves from each other:
“We are merely players, performers and portrayers, each another’s audience”.
Lest it seem too grouchy though, this infectiously upbeat song
goes on to encourage one to “put aside the alienation” and get on with
“the underlying dream”.
Peart didn't merely concern himself with matters of the puny
individual; sometimes, he took on the big picture, as in "Farewell to
Kings"
"When we turn the pages of history,When these days have past long ago. . .Will they read of us with sadness?"
I think these words are kind of prophetic: look at the
headlines, look at the leaders we've elected, look at all our multitude of
follies! I'll be shocked if historians don't read of us with
sadness.
Peart sounds quite like a nineteenth century historian here, which to my mind is a good thing. He continues along this vein in a lesser known ditty:
"The men who hold high places must be the ones who start,To mold a new reality, closer to the heart,Philosophers and the Ploughmen, each must know his partTo sew a new mentality, closer to the heart"
Now, I'm not a particularly huge fan of "Closer To the
Heart": it's cliched and kind of syrupy. But the words ring true. At the
very least, no one could accuse him of being unthoughtful.
Leaping ahead, the notorious "Dad-Rap" of "Roll the Bones" is somewhat infamous - I rather like it though, and it remains the only rapping that I myself can actually manage at length. (Still not going to quote it). To my mind, Counterparts bristles with profundities. I could put up any of its songs as examples of first-class lyricism. I'll confine myself to a few tidbits, starting with "Stick it Out", not only their hardest guitar song since "Cygnus", but possibly the only Rock song I know admonishing its listeners to act on their better instincts.
"Trust to your instinct - if it's safely restrained!"
(And for what it's worth, even if you don't buy that the song is
about purging oneself of negative influences, he means sticking out your tongue
- your tongue ladies and gentlemen, your tongue!)
"Nobody's Hero" is much more somber, a tribute to
overlooked, uncelebrated, and forgotten people.
"I knew he was different in his sexuality - I went to his parties as the straight minority. Never seemed a threat to my masculinity - he only introduced me to a wider reality."
In respectable circles today, nobody bats an eyelid at this sort
of thing. In fact, they might wonder why it needs point out. But this was
written in the far less tolerant 1993, where it required a bit more boldness.
Consider though, that probably refers to his time in London in the late
sixties, a way less tolerant time, hippies notwithstanding. To
think such a thing back then required genuine open mindedness.
While love songs are pretty ubiquitous in the pop sphere - some
bands don't write anything else - they're almost all about the
euphoria of early love. I don't know of anyone who's sang
about the nuts-and-bolts negotiation of maintaining a relationship, as Peart does
in "Cold Fire"
"It was just before sunrise,When we started on traditional roles"She said 'sure I'll be your partner"But don't make too many demands,
"I said if love has these conditions,
I don't understand those songs you love,"She said this is not a love song, This isn't fantasy land"
And finally, we come to my favourite of the oeuvre, the
glorious "Every Day Glory", an anthem of cautious optimism in a world
that makes it difficult:
"Just one spark of decency, Against the starless night"One glow of hope and dignity, A child can follow the night"
The song is so beautiful, I think they could have sang about squirrels and I'd still find it uplifting. But Rush had the most godly ability to match words and music, the songs always sounded just like they felt. What we have here is a spark of decency, a glow of hope and dignity, which together turn into a blaze of everyday glory. The world can be a rotten place, and it does its best to crush the human spirit. And yet, people endure, people pull through, people go on
"Right from the Ashes a Blaze of Everyday
Glory"
This, I suspect, got much closer to the heart[ii] of Peart's philosophy
than something like "Anthem". In this rotten world, filled as it is
with evil and misfortune, our best hope lies in each other. Little acts of
decency and kindness count for a lot.
It reminds me something of Vasily Grossman's contention in Life
and Fate that the real struggle of the world is not between good and
evil and between cruelty and kindness. And though Grossman himself saw
himself saw first hand the worst that humanity could do (Stalingrad, Kursk,
Treblinka, Nazi pogroms and Stalinist purges) he maintained that kindness could
not be stamped out[iii].
I don't know if Peart ever read Grossman (he'd probably have
mentioned it). But I imagine he'd be sympathetic to the idea. It’s a sentiment
that keeps drawing me back to Rush (the same that draws me back to Doctor Who).
It’s impossible to listen to Rush and feel worse about the human condition.
The songs aren’t just good, you feel they really taught you something, without
being condescending or saccharine. A lot of this comes down to Peart. This was
the work of Peart.
They didn’t call him “the Professor” for nothing.
