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Time Stands Still
What happens to fans when a rock star dies?
Two years ago, famed lyricist and drummer Neil Peart of the Canadian Rock trio Rush passed away, and a part of me died with him.
My social media feed was filled with Gen X men heartbroken over the loss of this great percussionist but what was missing from this eulogy, which was perhaps missing from the time, was the effect his sounds and songs had on young girls like me.
I was a closeted Rush fan. Since they came to rise in the early 1980s when the infallible Tom Sawyer dominated the radio, rarely did I not see a young boy recreate an air drum of Peart’s famous solo, but for me, his sounds, his vigor spoke to me quietly, through the cracks.
I was not a musician per se. I did play the French Horn, but outside of John Entwistle of The Who, I did not see a future as a rock star with this golden instrument, but the drums now that was cool. So, I dreamt about playing them, holding those sticks, slamming the snare but I never once even tried.
Instead, I would go upstairs and listen to my Rush cassettes, the kind I purchased from Colombia Music for a penny, and entered another world.
The ’80s was a less evolved era on the female front. Hair was big, aerobics was in and the career woman was just finding her place while hitting the proverbial glass…
