
Harold Fisher: The “obscure hero” that became Neil Peart’s biggest influence
When Neil Peart auditioned to become a full-time member of Rush, the stakes were high. The percussionist was just one of many who attempted to join the burgeoning prog outfit, and Peart pipped them to the post for a variety of reasons. Of course, having a lot in common also helped the other members to connect with him, but ultimately, they knew early on that only one person was equipped to join them in realising their musical vision. Neil Peart was one of a kind.
Being the drummer in Rush wasn’t just like being a part of any other band. Rush’s songs are longer, more complex, and intricate, and so any accompanying drummer needed to understand their sonic tapestry and be effortlessly capable of keeping up – and when they first came across Peart, it seemed like their ideal drummer had been given to them on a silver platter.
“I guess they tried a few drummers, but we just clicked on both sides,” Peart once said, recalling the moment he joined forces with the band. Noting their similarities, he continued: “There was a strong musical empathy right away with new ideas they were working on and things I had as musical ideas. Also, outside of music, we have a lot of things in common.”
Although Peart is considered by many to be one of the greatest drummers ever, he, too, had his influences, like Gene Krupa, Mitch Mitchell, Ginger Baker, Michael Giles, John Bonham, and Michael Shrieve. He also, of course, appreciated Keith Moon and once called him his favourite mentor, who “gave me a new idea of freedom and that there was no need to be a fundamentalist.”
However, while the drummer has his share of cherished greats, one name impacted his style and approach to percussion more than others. Harold Fisher, whom he regarded as an “obscure hero” and a powerful against-the-grain act when speaking with Zildijan in 2003 about his biggest influences, was undoubtedly a singular force in the growth of Peart as one of prog-rock’s finest players behind the kit. Peart first came across Fisher’s work as a teenager but didn’t become aware of the name behind the genius until much later.
After Peart moved to London and was working in a shop on Carnaby Street, all in a bid to get a taste of the big time, someone he worked with always liked to listen to an instrumental record called Movements by Johnny Harris. The repeated listens caused Peart to become fully engaged, unexpectedly exploring facets of musicianship he never thought he would, like “the subtlety and sophistication of the drumming, and the jazz-based technique which combined funk overtones and rock power.”
Above all, however, he grew to appreciate the “construction” of the drumming the most due to its elegance and range of styles, “from laid-back funk to driving energy” as well as a captivating “natural sound, perfect time, and feel.” He might not have been aware of how much it impacted him at the time, but looking back some 20 years later made him view his artistry in a new light.
Of course, getting to the root of the “anonymous tutor” who became his most defining influence requires an extensive internet search, but when he finally discovered the name Harold Fisher, he felt indebted. “It turned out to be someone I’d never even heard of,” Peart said, “a British session drummer named Harold Fisher. So, after all these years, I’d just like to say, ‘Hats off to Harold.'”
While there can be no doubt that Peart was not only a genius in his own right, but achieved that status with an amalgamation of some of the finest drummers of all time, it’s not difficult to see how this unique style, patterns and willingness to deliver a different way of playing percussion would help to cement the very core of what Neil Peart was all about.