Failing Frank

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Yesterday I found myself channeling Frank Zappa. Now, as background, I can’t read or write music or play a musical instrument. But I wanted to be a truth teller like him – make an observation about society that most people also observe but were uncomfortable stating.

But I couldn’t do it. I thought about it and went as far as writing a draft blog post. And then I consulted people who I’m close with who told me not to move forward. Their general consensus was that we live in a more nuanced, sensitive time. Better to sit back and listen, they said. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. But I agreed with them entirely.

For those of you unfamiliar with his work or only know “Valley Girl,” Frank Zappa was full of contradictions. His music literally covered every single genre you can ever name. And while Zappa composed beautiful classical music, he was also a viciously brilliant satirist who spared no one, writing songs like “Bobby Brown Goes Down,” “Catholic Girls” and “Jewish Princess.” The songs personified irony at its absolute best, or worst, depending on  your point of view.

What made Frank Zappa particularly unique was that, throughout his iconoclastic career, he remained totally outspoken. His early work with the Mothers of Invention would almost be described as part of the counterculture. Yet the workaholic teetotaler, who survived mostly on black coffee and Winston’s, concurrently seemed to mock the airly hippie idealism and viewed the culture around him with a bleak realism. And, in the last several years before his death Zappa became known as a free speech champion, squaring off against  the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC) in a well-publicized Senate hearing.

During the past several years I’ve been digging deep into Frank Zappa’s vast catalog, which is available digitally on Spotify. Zappa’s music isn’t very accessible – I can’t think of an album of his that you’d put on in the background when you have guests over for dinner. But I’m consistently impressed at Zappa’s absolute fearlessness as a musician who constantly blended genres and defied easy characterization. His music doesn’t always work; in fact, some of it is borderline unlistenable, but practically every song is unique.

I believed the election of Donald Trump would usher in a new age of satire and bitter realism, paving the way for another Frank Zappa. It hasn’t happened yet and I don’t believe it ever will. I tried summoning up a bit of his fearlessness yesterday and I just couldn’t carry it through.

But there’s this side of me that wonders if Frank Zappa’s time might have come and gone, literally because he’s been dead since 1993, but also figuratively because we do live in a different world. One where most of us, including me, would be better off doing more listening and observing and taking nuance into account.

While it doesn’t bode well for satire, maybe when all is said and done, we’re actually improving as a society. I can just imagine what Frank Zappa would say to that.

 

The Other “You”

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

It’s really hard when we have these moments where something comes along and metaphorically kicks us in the ass. You’re surprised at first, maybe even shocked. But then you realize you’ve been headed down this particular destructive path the entire time. You’ve become the thing you very much tried to avoid.

If I’m going to lead the post like this I need to offer an explanation. And I will; I’m going to try to give you enough so it makes sense but not too much. Let’s just say there are people in my life who possesses traits I don’t particularly appreciate. In fact, I go through great pains to avoid acting like them. I convince myself I’m doing a pretty good job. But the reality is that I’m doing exactly the obvious – embodying the same traits I supposedly abhor.

Now, I can’t snap my fingers and fix this. It’s going to take time and I believe this post is a step in the right direction. Because I hope it meets two objectives; the primary one to hold myself accountable; the second to serve as a cautionary tale, or perhaps a kick in the ass to you, the reader, if you’re experiencing something similar.

Many of you (me, for sure) reading this likely have heard the admonishment “Don’t make it about you” or “You know; it’s not all about you.” Meaning don’t be selfish. Focus on the issue at hand; don’t shift the blame and focus. But I believe that when it comes to fixing, or more realistically, working on (I don’t believe we ever really “fix” certain aspects of ourselves) our undesirable traits, you need to make it about you. That is the other “you” – the one  you don’t like, or try to keep hidden, or shift off on someone else whose traits you don’t desire. Because, and please forgive the armchair psychology, it’s likely the reason you don’t desire those traits are because they’re the very ones you know you embody.

If I was going to develop a plan, or process, to work my way through this, it would look something like the following:

1. Identify the moment when you’re trying not to emulate or embody a certain behavior
2. Ask yourself realistically (and grade yourself as hard as you can) how the person or people you’re with might be perceiving your behavior
3. Make a call which “you” they’re seeing
4. Act accordingly

Now I of course have no idea of those aforementioned steps are complete hogwash. But I’m pretty confident they’re better than not doing anything.

Included below is a quote from a 2002 Spin magazine profile on Leonard Cohen by Mikal Gilmore. I tore the article from the magazine, folded it and put it in a notebook. Since then, I’ve taken the article out several times and gone straight to the quote. In fact, I’ve referenced it previously in this blog.

Cohen is speaking of what Roshi, his Zen master told him: “He said that the older you get, the lonelier you become, and the deeper the love you need. Which means that this hero that you’re trying to maintain as the central figure in the drama of your life – this hero is not enjoying the life of a hero. You’re exerting a tremendous maintenance to keep this heroic stance available to you, and the hero is suffering defeat after defeat. And they’re not heroic defeats; they’re ignoble defeats. Finally, one day you say, ‘Let him die – I can’t invest any more in this heroic position.’ From there, you just live your life as if it’s real – as if you have to make decisions even though you have absolutely no guarantee of any of the consequences of your decisions.”

Now, switch out the “hero” Cohen is speaking of with the other person or people in your life – the ones you’re trying so hard to avoid emulating. Let all of them die, rhetorically speaking. And then carry forward and work on yourself, both the “you” you and others value and appreciate, as well  as the “you” that you and others maybe don’t value and appreciate as much. At least that’s what I’m going to try and do.

Image credit: Shutterstock

 

 

 

“You’re Every Age You’ve Been”

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I joined the podcast party late, only really getting into them a couple of years ago. And in my experience I find I enjoy the interview format best. Sure, I appreciate learning about authors, comedians, musicians and other public figures I enjoy and admire. But listening to podcasts has also enabled me to expand my horizons, and figuratively meet new people. Or, gain unique insight on a public figure outside of their chosen vocation.

Lately I’ve been into a podcast, “Let There Be Talk,” hosted by musician and comedian Dean Delray. This week he interviewed Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett. Now, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend listening to it unless you’re a huge Metallica fan or a guitar geek. I’m neither and at times found myself, no pun intended, tuning Delray and Hammett out. But towards the end Hammett was discussing his growth as a musician and person and echoed a phrase he had learned through therapy and recovery: “You’re every age you’ve been.” Meaning, if you’re in your forties, like me, there’s part of you that will still always think and act like you did in your thirties, and twenties; all the way back.

I’d never heard the expression before but it really stuck with me and it’s been brewing in the back of my brain this entire week. Truthfully, my first instinct was that the expression runs counter to what I’ve experienced most of my life. That we’re all constantly changing, even if we don’t think we are, often because we don’t have any choice. We’re constantly adapting to situations beyond our control. But we’re still calling upon the different experiences we’ve had and milestones we’ve reached throughout our development to help us process, or to cope.

I wanted to put this expression to a test so, without getting too personal, thought I’d document my development as a writer:

• Childhood and adolescence – Realize I’m blessed (or cursed) with an overactive imagination and the gift of storytelling. Discover the joy of reading.
• Twenties – Mature as a reader. Start keeping a daily journal.
• Thirties – Begin writing for work and honing  my technical chops, including grasping voice, structure and, of course deadlines.
• Forties – Launch my blog and view professional writing through the lens of  coach and player. Discipline myself to always be honest in my writing and embrace the “ruts” as they come

I can tell you that when I read those bullet points above, the expression “You’re every age you’ve been” makes complete sense. Put it this way – there’s not one thing on that list I don’t do.

So, if you’ve read this far, I encourage you to take the “You’re every age you’ve been” expression and let it simmer. Consider how it impacts you not just professionally but personally. How it plays out among your family and loved ones. Maybe it resonates. Maybe it’s a bunch of hogwash. You won’t know until you try. I know I will.

Image credit: Getty Images

 

 

My Journey to Ozz

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

If you’re reading this blog and of a certain age I’d imagine you’re like me in that you sometimes have to pause and wonder how things actually worked before the Internet and social media. How stories and narratives were passed around. And, in the case of Ozzy Osbourne, how myths were created.

The thing is; I heard about the puppies before the whole biting-the-head-off-the-bat incident. It was the summer of 1982 and I was at camp when an older kid was telling me and other rapt campers about an Ozzy Osbourne concert a friend of his had attended. Supposedly Ozzy let a couple of puppies out in the crowd and then refused to start the concert until the audience murdered them.

Of course, now, knowing what we know of Ozzy Osbourne, it all seems so ridiculous. But back then I perceived Osbourne as truly dangerous, scary and more than a little fascinating. He seemed to fully earn and embrace his “Prince of Darkness” moniker and I just had to get a little piece of that darkness for myself.

But I never did. By the next summer I was listening to The Kinks, Def Leppard and Van Halen and lost whatever fleeting interest I had in Ozzy Osbourne. And that remained the case until the early 2000’s when my wife Wendy and I would curl up on the couch each week with our then-dog Kaiser and watch The Osbournes on MTV. But even then I was interested in Ozzy as a pop culture figure, not a notable singer.

Then, about 10 years ago, I’m not exactly sure how, but I rediscovered Ozzy Osbourne, especially his early 1980’s work like Blizzard of Ozz, Diary of a Madman and Bark at the Moon. Then I binged on Black Sabbath, recognizing that Tony Iommi’s sludgy riffs set the stage for pretty much every song you heard coming out of Seattle during the early 1990’s. I never looked back and when I saw that Ozzy would be coming to St. Paul in July 2019, with Megadeth as the opening act, a friend and I bought tickets.

The concert never happened. First, Megadeth founder and former Metallica member Dave Mustaine was diagnosed with throat cancer. Then, Ozzy cancelled the entire tour after contracting pneumonia. I received notifications from Ticketmaster indicating the concert would be rescheduled and sure enough it was, for July 3, 2020 with Marilyn Manson as the opening act.

But earlier this year, Osbourne announced he suffers from Parkinson’s disease. And that’s on top of what seems like a litany of other health problems he’s faced in recent years. Along with his long, well-documented struggles of substance abuse. The July 3 concert was subsequently cancelled, well before COVID-19 heartbreakingly silenced live music.

I do hope I get to see Osbourne in concert at some point because, music aside, there’s something about him I find incredibly endearing. The way he’s carried darkness and sadness around with him his entire life, channeling it, struggling with it, turning it into memorable music first with Black Sabbath, then as a solo artist, but never fully overcoming it. I hope I get a chance to share some of that darkness with him. And if Ozzy continues being as resilient as he’s always been, I just might.

Image credit: Getty images

That Don’t Surprise Me Much

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I spent several years working in the public relations and advertising agency world before joining the “other” side more than five years ago. Right off the bat I told myself that when working with solo practitioners or agencies I never wanted to be “that” client. And I like to believe for the most part I’ve held true to that. But like any client, I have my hang-ups.

I recall one external vendor partner emailing me several years back saying that they had a “surprise” for me and would tell me early the next morning during our planned status call. Oh, man. I stewed on this email for a bit and considered how best to respond. In the end I picked up the phone and reached the email sender on the first try. Then I told them, as politely as I possibly could, not to take it personally, but I absolutely hate the notion of being “surprised” and to please not use that word during our professional relationship.

I’m really not sure how I got this into my head but I don’t find anything remotely pleasing about surprises. Actually, I take that back. When my wife Wendy was pregnant with both of our kids we decided not to find out the gender beforehand. And when Ethan and Sasha both were born healthy, each was a truly joyous surprise. So there you have it – I’ve enjoyed two surprises in my life. I’m good.

I have surprises on my brain because lately I feel as though I respond to Ethan and Sasha with a series of stock answers, all of which in one way or another revolve around “I’m not surprised.” As in:

“I wasn’t aware of that, but I’m not surprised.”
“I don’t know him/her but, based on everything you’ve told me, I’m not surprised.”

The thing is, I consider myself a relatively positive person. It’s not like I go around in this dreary state, assuming everything is going to be awful. But somehow, along the way, I’ve lost the ability to be surprised. If someone is a good person, they’re going to do good things. Of course, the inverse is true as well. If the deck is stacked against a person or situation, I for one have a tough time seeing how everything will work itself out. Either way, I’m convinced that the die has been cast; the pieces are set in motion. Which to me eliminates any element of surprise.

Yet it dawned on me that, especially as it relates to Ethan and Sasha, this notion of nothing surprising me is something of a defense mechanism. Because as each continues to shape his and her respective identities they’ll naturally continue to pull away from Wendy and me. I’m not talking “pull away” in a negative sense, either; I mean the natural progression of things. When they start making individual life choices that will alter their trajectories in so many unforeseen ways. Just like they did for you and me.

Yes, something tells me when that starts happening I’ll be in for some surprises. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.

Image credit: independent.ie

 

 

Eluding the Claw

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I’ve worked in marketing all of my professional life. When it comes to the development of a strategy or plan, I know how the sausage gets made, so to speak. But that doesn’t stop me from geeking out over what I observe as impressive executions. Take the buzz (sorry; I just had to get it out of my system) around White Claw^® Hard Seltzer.

I’m not exactly sure why or how White Claw got on my radar, which makes it all the more fascinating. Perhaps I saw ads for it; maybe I didn’t. But what really drove things home was this past September when I saw the following Tweet by singer/songwriter Jason Isbell:

For starters, the Tweet cracked me up. But then I thought to myself, “Shortage? Really?” And of course I wondered if White Claw caused the shortage.

Somehow, in the midst of all this, our son and daughter, aged 15 and 12, respectively, also learned of White Claw and started mentioning it to my wife Wendy and me, suggesting we try it. I saw the connection, and it was a little scary. Our kids drank flavored bubbly water like LaCroix and bubly. So naturally they saw, at least theoretically, the appeal of White Claw.

But I, however, wasn’t quite sold. I enjoy beer – mostly pale ales, and gin or vodka and tonics. That’s about it.  I’m open-minded about what I drink within those categories but don’t invest much time or effort in learning more. And I just couldn’t envision a scenario where I’d give White Claw a try.

Last night, our family attended a cousin’s wedding. I took the kids to the bar so they could get sodas while I ordered Wendy and myself a vodka and gin and tonic, respectively. We all noticed the bar featured Black Cherry flavored White Claw and the kids seized on the opportunity to pitch me. “Dad,” they said in unison. “You should totally give it a try.”

Now, you parents reading this will know that everyone has their role to play in the family. I’m the one without any qualms when it comes to food and beverages, the “Hey, Dad, can you taste this and tell me if it’s safe to eat?” guy. So it was no surprise I became the vessel of our kids’ curiosity around White Claw. Maybe after my first drink, I told them.

Eventually I had my White Claw and it tasted exactly like I expected. Sweet and artificial. And the square Dad in me immediately found myself concerned for those who might drink a few and not really notice the alcohol content. Until they do.

What did I think? What did I think? our kids asked me. I gave them my patented shrug which they knew marked the beginning and end of my experimentation with White Claw.

A few minutes later, I was talking to a member of our extended family in his early thirties. He saw the can of White Claw in my hand and asked me what I thought of it. Not much, I told him. “Yeah, the Black Cherry flavor isn’t very good,” he said. But then he paused, gave me a knowing smile and said “But you really should give the Grapefruit flavor a try.”

I have to admit; my curiosity was piqued.

 

 

Hammer it Home

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

The other day our family was having a conversation at the dinner table about seasonal affective disorder (SAD) because our daughter Sasha had learned about it in school. The conversation was timely because, as of this writing we’ve been steadily pounded with snow here in Minneapolis where I live. Not complete white-out conditions, but just enough where it gums up the works; where you feel all you do is shovel.

I’m sure the conversation about SAD impacted me on some level because the other night I was shoveling snow and in that rhythmic, in-the-zone state. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, I had the theme from Miami Vice in my head. And, naturally my brain went not to the real Miami, which I’ve been fortunate enough to visit several times, but the fictional Miami depicted in the iconic Miami Vice  opening sequence. My tired arms and shoulders kept resolutely shoveling, as if on autopilot, while my mind wandered to the pastel, rolled-up-blazer-sleeves, sport-car driving Miami of my imagination.

And I realized, after the fact, that I had Jan Hammer – a relatively-obscure Czech-American musician, to thank. He composed and performed the Miami Vice opening theme. And the reality is that he had a large hand in creating the music of my formative and adult years. I just never realized it.

Growing up in rural Connecticut, our local cable provider didn’t offer MTV until 1987 so my brother and I would watch pirated VHS tapes featuring 4-6 hours of the channel. It’s how I first learned of such disparate bands as Rush, Whitesnake and Iron Maiden. And came upon one of my favorite videos of all time – 1982’s “No More Lies,” by Schon & Hammer – Journey guitarist Neal Schon and the aforementioned Jan Hammer. 

Decades later, with the Internet, podcasts and the like as resources, I learned that Schon & Hammer provided a needed creative outlet for Schon, who felt frustrated by his diminished role in Journey. The duo would go on to create two albums – Untold Passion and Here to Stay. Yet supposedly, Schon’s record label refused to support either album, afraid they would interfere with Journey’s commercial juggernaut.

Back then, all I knew is the video was awesome, in that cheesy-low-budget-ridiculous-plot-early-80’s kind of way. The song featured a guitar killer riff and Jan Hammer played a contraption in the video that I later learned to be a “Keytar.” Hammer had a receding hairline and is wearing a white button-down shirt in the video. But somehow it all seemed to work.

A few years back I located Schon & Hammer on Spotify, where their two albums are combined into one offering available for streaming. Dated production values aside, both albums still hold up. I’m listening to it now as I write this post and “No More Lies” is a staple of my running playlists.

While I listen to Rock or Metal almost exclusively when exercising, if I want music on while I’m reading or just in a chill mood, I’ll put on jazz fusion – Weather Report, Return to Forever or the Miles Davis 1970 Miles Davis album Bitches Brew are among my favorites. I also discovered a band named Mahavishu Orchestra which featured – you might have guessed it, Jan Hammer on keyboards.

It doesn’t seem like it now but someday in the relatively near future the snow will melt and the Miami Vice theme song will fade from memory. Until it comes back to me at some point in the near future. Which seems to always happen with Jan Hammer’s work.

Image credit: Jazziz

 

 

 

 

 

Grumpy Old Men

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

If you’re reading this post chances are you’re familiar with Grumpy Old Men – a 1993 movie starring Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, which, incidentally, was filmed in Minnesota, where I live. The movie is pretty hokey but entertaining and it’s fun to see Lemmon and Matthau do their Odd Couple shtick. And I do seem to recall it featuring a pretty funny blooper real at the end.

I hadn’t thought about Grumpy Old Men in ages. That is until I watched former Vice President Joe Biden and Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders during last night’s Democratic presidential debate. Both men, I should note, acted like grumpy old men. But I believe only Bernie Sanders made it work.

Perhaps this is an ominous sign but Joe Biden reminds me of Hilary Clinton. What I mean by that is that I believe Joe Biden, given his experience, world view and credibility, could walk into the Oval Office this very second and be an effective president. But, and this is a huge understatement, being president and getting elected president are two entirely different things.

Something tells me I’m not alone among Democrats with this view but I consider Joe Biden my sentimental favorite. I believe there’s just something undeniably resilient and endearing about Joe Biden. For a while Biden’s Everyman charm seemed to jibe with his “Uncle Joe” moniker. But lately I believe the former vice president has been coming across more as Grandpa Joe. And despite my positive Charlie and the Chocolate Factory memories, I don’t believe that’s a good thing.

I thought Joe Biden did fine last night but I’m not convinced fine is enough – especially not this year. Far too often, not just last night but in the preceding debates, he seemed old, tired; off his game. As if the debate was something he was almost impatiently enduring. Like a grumpy old man.

Bernie Sanders, if anything, came across as even older (he is, by a year) than Biden. And grumpy – forget about it! No one does grumpy like Bernie Sanders. But here’s the thing: I truly believe Sen. Sanders did it in a way that worked for him; that might have even made him stronger in the process.

Take this whole Elizabeth Warren she said/he said skirmish. Please forgive my cynicism but I have no way of knowing nor do I care who said what. My attitude is that we have a race to win and I get crabby when I hear too much static along the way.

But I do believe that Bernie Sanders handled the skirmish with aplomb. And by aplomb, I mean in Sanders’ typically awkward, terse, yet oddly sincere way. He basically said the story was hogwash and moved on. End of discussion.

Now, for some perspective, voters of a certain age or level of political engagement may feel as though they’ve watched Joe Biden age before their eyes – from his earnest 70’s era comb-over look to his Ray Bans/gleaming teeth persona of the Obama years. But Bernie Sanders, as he grumpily reminded Elizabeth Warren last night, has been an elected officeholder for 30-plus years. And he’s been a grumpy old man for all of them. Heck, Bernie Sanders may have even come out of the womb a grumpy old man.

Quite a bit can happen between now and the Democratic convention and probably will. But right now, at this moment in time, the race seems to be all about two grumpy old men. One I believe can effectively serve in the office. The other, though, seems to be doing a better job of authentically convincing voters they should give him a chance.

Image credit: AMC

 

 

 

 

Hi! My name is (what?)

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Tomorrow evening at 8:00 p.m. CST six Democratic presidential candidates will participate in a CNN-sponsored debate at Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa. This is the seventh Democratic debate of the 2020 season and I must admit that even a political nerd like me has been paying less attention with each successive debate. I always start off engaged and then quickly fade. So with that in mind I’ve taken a stab at opening statements I wish the candidates could make, completely unvarnished. Here they are, in no particular order:

Former Vice President Joe Biden
Remember when you were a kid and you’d get into a big fight with your siblings, complete with crying and screaming. Sometimes you needed a relative – a parent, or maybe an aunt and uncle, to come in, gather the whole family and tell everyone to take a deep breath and let’s just work our way through it. And somehow the problem didn’t seem so bad after that pause. Well, my friends. We’re ready for that pause, and I’m your relative.

Former South Bend, Ind. Mayor Pet Buttigieg
You know the basics about me so I’ll just get to what’s on everyone’s mind. You’re wondering if I’m for real or if I’m too much of an arrogant know-it-all to really be an effective leader for our times. Well, as I like to remind you all every few minutes, I’m a Millennial, so of course I know everything. But remember that 12 years ago another arrogant know-it-all earnestly asked for your note. And his name was Barrack Obama.

Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar
I usually wait for two candidates to start attacking each other and then figure out a way to self-servingly worm my way into the dialogue but here goes. To use the kids’ lingo, I’m kind of a try-hard and not very likable. And even though I’ve won a bunch of elections, that might be because I never bothered standing for anything. But I’m tough, prepared and smart. I have endless bounds of energy and if you gave me a chance you’d realize I might just be the best challenger to President Trump.

Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders
Have you all seen Larry David do me on Saturday Night Live? Good; then I really don’t need to say much. But just know that Trump is president because the people that love him really love him and perceive him to be authentic. And, in case you were wondering, I’m probably the most authentic candidate standing here tonight. Okay.

Billionaire Executive Tom Steyer
You’re probably curious what my deal is. You know I’m crazy rich but there’s something about me that seems a little different, besides that nifty belt I’m wearing in my ads. Well, keep watching and you might just find out. Probably not, though.

Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren
OK, so I’m not going to be like my friend from Vermont, who I respect deeply despite his snarky attacks on me, and let myself be characterized by a Saturday Night Live skit. Like my friend from Minnesota, I’m smart and tough and well-prepared. But I also bring a certain well-earned gravitas. I felt like we all were tracking a few months ago but now I feel you slipping. I get it; this is a long process. But tonight I want you to come back and listen to what I have to tell you.

While the aforementioned candidates might not literally say these words, I’ll be watching to see if their opening statements at least match the sentiments. That should help keep things interesting. At least for a little while.

Image credit: NBC

 

 

 

 

Yeah Your Honesty

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

January 10, 2020 will hold a special, albeit sad place in the hearts and minds of men of a certain age because that is when we learned that Rush drummer and lyricist Neil Peart had died earlier in the week of brain cancer at 67. I say men because something about Rush, for one reason or another, never much appealed to women. It became something of a joke among fans of Rush and the band itself. And I saw it myself when I attended my first and only Rush show in 2009 when they played at the Minnesota State Fair. A bunch of guys shouting and cheering, with, because of Peart’s prowess, much air drumming in between. All without a shred of irony.

There was much commiserating when we learned that “The Professor” as Peart was known, was no longer with us, mostly via digital platforms. Texting friends. Posting to Facebook. Checking Twitter to read Peart’s obituary. And right when I went to bed that night I had Peart’s lyrics to the Rush song “The Spirit of Radio” circling in my head; especially the last two lines of this verse:

“All this machinery
Making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted
It’s really just a question
Of your honesty, yeah your honesty”

I didn’t know Neal Peart, personally but from what I can tell by knowing a man only through his work, led an honest life. Peart’s lyrics included a mix of science fiction and philosophy that reflected his interests at the time. He never bothered explaining them. Because he felt, rightly so, that he didn’t have to.

Peart also struck me as honest to his craft. He and band mates – bassist Geddy Lee and guitarist Alex Lifeson recorded and played the music they wanted, often over the objections of their record label, and the fans followed. And Peart never stopped evolving as a player; in fact, I recall reading a 2015 article chronicling Rush’s final tour, in which Lee and Lifeson joked that Peart was the only musician they knew who would rehearse prior to a rehearsal.

In the end, it really is just a question of your honesty. We never questioned yours, Neal Peart.  You can be sure of it.

Image credit: Getty Images