Louder AAA
One of Neil Peart’s most moving lyrics appears on Rush’s 10th album, Grace Under Pressure. The song Afterimage deals with the mark people leave when they’re gone, and the memories and emotions their absence stirs.
It was a tribute to Robbie Whelan, an assistant engineer at Le Studio in Quebec, where Rush had recorded several of their recent albums. Whelan had been killed in a car accident while driving to the studio. ‘Suddenly you were gone,’ sings Lee, vocalising the drummer’s words. ‘From all the lives you left your mark upon.’
The poignancy of those lyrics has only intensified since Peart’s death in 2020. Today, sitting with Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson in a London hotel suite, the drummer is almost an invisible presence. They talk about their old bandmate and friend warmly – but they’re not above laughing at some of his stranger foibles, presumably like they would if he was sitting between them right now.
Ask them about the funniest thing they ever saw Peart do while he didn’t mean to be funny, and they both bring up the exploding golf ball. Back in the day, to alleviate the drudgery of touring, Rush would hold golf tournaments for the band and the crew. Most of them didn’t play golf, but that didn’t matter – they turned up anyway. “It was always so much fun; everybody just hacking around,” says Lifeson.
Peart was a hold-out. He wasn’t a sports guy and had zero interest in golf. But they chipped away at him, and eventually he grudgingly – very grudgingly – agreed to come to one of their silly tournaments. “He was so uncoordinated,” says Lifeson, laughing. “It was hilarious watching him try to swing at a ball.”
Lee: “Remember the one where he nearly hit somebody? He drove the ball and pulled it so fast. There was somebody on a golf cart and they had to hit the deck ’cos it would probably have killed them!”
But the pièce de résistance? That would be the exploding golf ball. “So somebody puts one of these things on the tee for him without him knowing,” says Lifeson. “And he drove the ball and it exploded in this big cloud of powder.”
He does an uncanny impression of a livid Peart, face like thunder. “He was, like, [makes furiously grumpy muttering noises].” The guitarist is almost crying with laughter now. “He never came to the golf tournaments again!”
When Peart replaced John Rutsey in 1974, Lee concedes it was hard for such a gawky, slightly awkward kid to insert himself into the tight friendship he and Lifeson had. “Oh yeah,” says the singer. “We’d talk about him all the time like he was an alien, ’cos he seemed kind of like an alien.
“He was very different to anyone else we hung around with. His hair was too short, and he would talk about things we never talked about – big, weighty subjects. And he was reading all the time.”
And you two weren’t readers? Lee: “We read things like Lord Of The Rings. We read the fun shit. He read everything.”
Lifeson: “He was deep, all the time.”
Lee: “He was so verbose. He could talk about anything. And that’s when me and Al said, [conspiratorial whisper], ‘Hey, he reads books. Let’s make him do lyrics.’”
Lifeson: “He was a little reluctant, but then he said, ‘Yeah, OK, I’ll give it a try.’”
Lee: “It worked out OK, I think!”
It did work out OK. But Peart was more than just an extraordinary drummer and unique lyricist. He was a key component of the perfectly balanced chemistry that made Rush who they were.
Even with Rush back on stage, and Annike Nilles behind the drumkit, it’s hard to imagine the band without him – not least for Peart’s family. How was that conversation?
“It was uncomfortable,” Lee says slowly. “They had to get their heads around us moving forwards, which they did, and they eventually gave us their blessing. But yes, of course it was surprising for them.”
