Thoughts on Rush's return

Rush in 1977. Photo by Fin Costello

It is the 6th of October, and a fine Monday afternoon. The sun is hanging threateningly low in the sky for four pm, but put off by this I am not. I am driving myself home after a much needed outing to the local record store to, among other things, postpone having to interact with family. I would detail to you the specifics of what I bought, but that is besides the point. 

I am sitting in my car, waiting to make a left turn at an intersection and hoping the cars behind me can muster up enough patience to not cause a wreck by ramming into the back of my vehicle. “Tom Sawyer” had been playing on the radio, a song I had settled on despite not being particularly fond of it simply because there wasn’t anything better on. I hadn’t heard it in a long time–might as well do with some exposure therapy. 

I was reminiscing on a time my father told me Rush was “too prog rock” for me when I heard it: a radio advert voiced by none other then Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson themselves, declaring that Rush are going on tour again. It is short, vague–I suppose to the point. They say they can’t wait to see us out on the road. They do not mention this is a limited tour. They do not mention they have brought on a new drummer. 

Immediately, I am taken aback by this. Neil Peart has been dead for, what, five years at this point? And now is when they decide to go back on tour? I can’t decide if I should be offended by this decision or happy for them. I can’t figure out why I even care. 

What little exposure I had to Rush prior to this point did nothing to mythologize them in my mind and everything to humanize them. These are some random Canadians that probably sit at home reading Spiderman comics to their dogs, or something. These are not rockstars. Rush seemed like the last people in the world who would continue touring after the loss of a pivotal member, and for a long time they were. 

Rush are far from the first band to embark on tours after pivotal members have died. Hell, The Who have been doing it for forty-seven years, though soon they, too, will be calling it quits. The farewell tour is the slow death that Rush, though through unfortunate means, had managed to avoid.

The band themselves have said “there’s no way Rush will ever exist again”. Okay, so maybe this isn’t Rush. But then what is? 

I can’t help but be left with a sour taste in my mouth trying to conceptualize this Schrodinger’s Rush that has been unwittingly thrust upon fans and critics alike. I hesitate to say that this is the touring equivalent of dragging a dead and rotting corpse around, but it seems that’s the only way this could still in any way be Rush. They’re parading through the streets shouting “bring out your dead”. 

The only thing that truly makes this tour relevant is Neil Peart’s absence–without it, it’s just another run of the mill last chance. Perhaps this is Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson’s way of experiencing that sort of prolonged death so many artists have granted themselves through anniversaries and farewell tours. Maybe they noticed the trend taking over the music world (even Megadeath are retiring) and got tired of feeling left out. Maybe it just seemed like the right thing to do. 

After all, “This is your last chance to see [insert artist here]” is the disc jockey’s favorite phrase. They parrot it back to you constantly, rubbing your nose in it, because the first time just wasn’t enough. You will be hearing lamentations about final farewells right up until the tour comes to an unsatisfying close. You will hear lamentations about it long afterwards. 

Rush will be no exception to this rule. It seems like a strange choice, if nothing else, for the band to come out of retirement to play a mere 23 nights and, presumably disappear off the face of the earth once again. It seems strange to throw one last bone to the fans like this. And even if the fans recognize that the band are effectively doing them a solid now, they’ll start saying “there’s the rub” all over again the second the tour ends.  

At the end of the day, this is just the same old song and dance we’ve seen performed time and time again, the played-out routine we cheer and clap for when it’s over all the same. But going out on tour again only makes it more clear that Neil Peart is gone, and even if this is the sort of proper send off Rush feel like they should’ve been granted, that they deserved, it’s never going to play out that way, no matter how desperately you try to change it. 

Recommended reading: Losing my way: how I fell out of love with my favorite band, Rush by Geoff Barton