Neil Peart, drummer/lyricist for the band Rush, who succumbed to cancer, is often called the greatest drummer who ever lived. He isn’t – because no one holds that title. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about John Bonham, Keith Moon, Bill Bruford, Buddy Rich, Ginger Baker and so on. As long as there is room to grow and improve at any craft, there can be no absolute “best”.
Do not misunderstand me, Neil’s passing has affected me on a very deep level. Not because, as a musician, he was my god but because he was one of my most-loved and important mentors.
Being best is not the point.
The point is: there are those who get us to see something differently. They show us possibilities we’d never thought of. They raise the bar. Every art, vocation and discipline has such notables. Neil Peart was one of those rare gems.
Our role is not to idolize them for their talent but learn from their vision. We shouldn’t want to imitate them but take what they taught us and better ourselves however we can.
An abundance of disciples.
The internet is littered with videos of drummers wearing the little Neil hat with the identical drum set playing Tom Sawyer note for note. They desperately want to sound exactly like him but they can’t because they are not him.
What they miss is the importance of incorporating his dedication to craft with whatever unique style they’ve developed. Only then can the discovery of something new occur and thus, raise the bar higher. That dedication to craft is best applied to almost every aspect of life.
Take the right lesson here.
It took a long time for this drummer of 40 years to learn that lesson. As a teenage student, I’d bring my song list to my drum teacher, Michael to show me how to play them. He finally told me he didn’t want me to sound like the guy from Rush or Led Zeppelin. Michael wanted me to combine the drummers I loved with just enough of me to invent my own sound. He said he wanted future students wanting to play like Tom Serafini so he could tell them the same thing.
With Neil’s passing, I wanted tempted to strap on the headphones and play everything I learned so long ago. I realized a better way to honor his life, work and memory is to live up to his example as a student of craft, to be curious enough about the work I love doing (and life) to seek new ways to grow.
One of Neil’s famous quotes: “Even as a kid, I never wanted to be famous; I wanted to be good.” In this world of pseudo-celebrity Instagrammers and YouTubers everyone wants to be famous, no one wants to be good. Everyone wants to stand next to a bright light because it’s easier than being the light.
That he was great isn’t as important as why he was great.
I spent so much time with this man in my youth, I almost missed the greater lesson my unintended mentor was imparting: not to imitate his playing but to adopt his enthusiasm for the things I love doing. I can only hope I live up to the bar he set and the one I set for myself.
