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Traveling Music
The Soundtrack to My Life and Times
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by Tony Chartrand-Burke
October 14 — 20, 2004 |
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Traveling Music: The Soundtrack to My Life and Times
Neil Peart (ECW Press)
As the drummer and lyricist for Rush, Neil Peart is a Canadian
icon — though an icon as often lampooned for his outrageously–
equipped drum kit as he is applauded for his percussion–playing
prowess. His lyrics, to such well–known FM radio staples as “Tom
Sawyer” and “Spirit of Radio,” are considered penetrating and
perceptive by starry–eyed fans but passionless and pretentious by
critics. Nevertheless, any who have looked closely enough at
Peart’s lyrics to note their literary allusions likely would be
unsurprised to see Peart attempt “real” writing.
Traveling Music is Peart’s third full–length foray into
non–fiction. The first, 1996’s The Masked Rider: Cycling in West
Africa, was a fascinating travelogue documenting the dangers and
delights he encountered on a bicycle tour of Cameroon. The
second, 2002’s Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road,
described a different sort of journey: a wayward motorcycle tour
taken to occupy Peart’s mind and body while he grieved the
deaths of his wife Jackie and their only daughter Selena.
Compared to the understandably melancholy Ghost Rider,
Traveling Music is positively buoyant. Peart now lives in Los
Angeles with new wife Carrie Nuttall, a photographer, and is back
recording and touring with his bandmates of 30 years.
The new book was occasioned by a solo road trip to Big
Bend National Park. For the trip, Peart piled a few dozen cds of his
favourite music into his BMW Z–8. By the time he reached Big
Bend, the journey had inspired him to begin his latest project: a
“triple memoir” in which the selections in his car’s cd player
triggers thoughts about music and memories of his own life in
both music and travel.
The book is structured like a song, with “verse” chapters
(focussing on his current trip to Big Bend and the music he listens
to along the way) alternating with autobiographical “chorus”
chapters (narrating his encounters with music in childhood and
early adulthood) and even features a “middle eight” section
(describing his bird–watching activities at Big Bend and segueing
oddly into memories of mariachi music). A final “Rideout” chapter
tells the story of writing and editing the book.
The normally guarded Peart reveals much about his life in
Traveling Music. We read about his childhood in nearby St.
Catharine’s, his first taste of musical freedom when, at the age of
ten, his mother bought him a plastic transistor radio, his
introduction to drumming after watching the Gene Krupa Story,
and the purchase of his first drum kit at the age of 14.
Readers may be surprised to discover that the now–bookish
Peart dropped out of high school at 17 and only became
interested in literature after journeying to London to seek fame
and fortune in 1971. There he busied himself reading his
roommate’s paperbacks, popping his rapidly dwindling savings
into the electric heater as he waited for the next audition.
Peart’s early years in music are surprisingly mundane. There
is little drama in Peart’s stories of performing with forgettable St.
Catharine’s–area bands (anybody remember Mumblin’ Sumthin’ or
J. R. Flood?). Even his experiences in London fail to offer the tales
of drugs, debauchery, and despair expected in a rock musician’s
memoir. Peart may have an interesting job, but his life is simply
not interesting enough for an autobiography.
Nevertheless, fans of Rush will be pleased to read anecdotes
from the band’s career, including the seminal episode of Peart’s
audition, the despair of the band’s darkest days (promoting
1975’s Caress of Steel on what was dubbed the “Down–the–Tubes
Tour”), the preparation and elation of playing at last year’s
SARStock event in Toronto, and an incident at a concert in the
’80s when singer Geddy Lee was injured by a fan who threw a
lighter at his face. The event is one of several bizarre encounters
with fans recounted by Peart to explain why the drummer tends to
be so reclusive. With fans like these who could blame him?
For the most part, however, the book’s autobiographical
material terminates at the point when Peart joined the band; the
“Rush years,” the author teases, may be the subject of a future
book.
Even less compelling than Traveling Music’s
autobiographical “choruses” are the “verses” which offer the
reader a look at Peart’s past and present musical influences. The
cds played on the trip to Big Bend range from the soundtrack to
Evita to Linkin Park’s Meteora. We read also of Peart’s early
interest in R&B (um, what happened?), which resurfaces later in a
flirtation with boy band 98 Degrees. Peart’s analysis of the
“soundtrack of his life and times” rarely approaches the depth of
similar works like Nick Hornby’s Songbook (which Peart often
quotes). Only his digressions about rewatching The T.A.M.I. Show
and the Monterey Pop Festival as an adult really seem to capture
Peart’s intentions in writing the book.
All told, the song–like structure of Traveling Music is much
like the structure of a typical Rush song: too busy. Peart simply
tries to do too much in one book. This is particularly apparent in
the fourth chapter which veers off for 38 pages into tales from a
cycling trip in Mali. Other sections also read like a depository of
unused material, including stories from an aborted project on a
motorcycle tour between shows on 1992’s Test for Echo tour.
If Peart wishes to progress as a writer he would do well to
heed advice given to him as a young drummer. After Peart’s final
gig with a lackluster band in London, the band’s bass player
leaned close to him and said: “You’re going to be great, man. You
just need discipline.”
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