This may not seem a big deal to anyone who has taken in concerts before. But for a guy who has loved their music since hearing Tom Sawyer on a little AM transistor radio in 1982 and who has every album they produced, as well as Geddy Lee’s and Alex Lifeson’s solo albums, it is no small thing.
I’m not a typical geek Rush fan. I don’t care to know exhaustive band trivia, nor do I view these gentlemen as demigods. But the art that they have created for the last 34 years is both historic, fascinating and not a little moving. I’ve admired their stories of struggle with adversity and their dedication to their families. I’ve marveled at the structure and lyrics of most of their songs. I’ve felt that some of their tunes missed the expected mark – but discovered in my later years that those same songs hit other marks I couldn’t see at the time. I simply enjoy and appreciate their originality, skill and sense of humour more than any other band I’ve known.
(Photo source: Wikipedia)
The venue was packed, the lights went down, the crowd screamed and cheered their Holy Trinity onto the stage. The sound exploded from the amps with the force of a star going nova. I looked down from the thirteenth row off stage left and experienced disbelief that I was not seeing this on a screen; these were my favorite Three Stooges in flesh and blood, they who first brought Canadian rock to the world like Prometheus bringing fire to mankind, and yet who remain in all respects just normal, rough-at-the-edges middle-class guys.
I looked around at the crowd as the opening number was unleashed and was a bit shocked at the sight. I had expected to see the fans waving arms in the air and jumping around to the music, like the Brazilians on the Rush In Rio DVD. But they all just stood there on the floor and sat in the stands, nodding their heads to the rhythm. ‘Oh my God,’ I wondered aloud. ‘Why are they so reserved? And what are the Three gonna think, seeing such a placid crowd?‘
As time went on, the crowd did slowly loosen up. It took me a while to figure out the reason for the delayed reaction: most of the audience were in their 30’s or older. We’re more laid back now. Mellowed out. The o-word… o-l-d-e-r?
Piss on that, I said, and started hollering, singing along, pumping my fists and clapping my hands in the air after each number. They came here to rock us, and I decided to let it go.
What was more heartwarming was the fact that many of these people were obviously parents – they had their teenage kids with them. And the kids were getting into it. Air drumming with Neil, playing invisible guitars with Geddy and Alex, finding the groove in their ma and pa’s kinda beat, and screaming their approval.
And thus I saw demonstrated in person that Rush are family. They are kid safe. Their lyrics are clean and deep, meaningful and provocative – instead of enticing your teen to try drugs, sex or violence, they coax you to ‘look in, look out, look around’, as their song Force Ten puts it. (That’s right, Mom, I wasn’t just listening to loud prog rock when I lived at home, I was introspecting – honestly.)
All in all, it was an amazing time. Thank you, Rush, for everything. Years of everything.
And especially thanks to my best friend Kevin R. who I went with – who stunned me right after the Snakes and Arrows tour announcement by presenting me with ticket receipts in an envelope and saying to me, “I’ve decided to make you an appointment. And there’ll be no excuses. I figured it was about time you went.’
And to think I feared for a moment opening the envelope that he had booked a vasectomy for me on behalf of my wife.
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On a side note, I snapped this shot of a sign in front of the Esso station beside Hwy. 401 at Ingersoll on the way to London.
I guess some gas stations really are more friendly. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time to get fully serviced. 
