The drummer Neil Peart knew was out of his league: “Too far out of reach”
Only a handful of drummers have earned a place at the table of the greatest of all time, and the late Neil Peart of Rush secured his seat decades ago.
Combining innate technical prowess with a passion for jazz and hard rock, his dynamism served as the ideal complement to Geddy Lee’s grooves and Alex Lifeson’s riffs. It’s hardly surprising that their trajectory soared after his arrival.
Peart’s role as Rush’s lyricist makes him a unique figure in the annals of rock music. Despite stirring controversy by drawing inspiration from the works of Ayn Rand for a classic track, he typically enhanced their expansive soundscapes with his lyrical contributions. However, it’s worth noting that while Peart made significant contributions to the band beyond his drum kit, his drumming remains paramount to their narrative. The fact that subsequent drumming luminaries like Dave Grohl and Chad Smith cite him as a hero speaks volumes about the profound impact of his rhythmic prowess.
“I started beating on the furniture and my baby sister’s playpen with a pair of chopsticks, and for my thirteenth birthday,” Peart once recalled of how he picked up the sticks, “My parents gave me drum lessons, a practice pad, and a pair of sticks. They said they wouldn’t buy me real drums until I showed that I was going to be serious about it for at least a year, and I used to arrange magazines across my bed to make fantasy arrays of drums and cymbals, then beat the covers off them!”
Peart himself was inspired by the rhythmic maestros of his era who pushed back against convention. Cream’s Ginger Baker, Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, and The Who’s Keith Moon would be those he regularly praised, citing their aptitude and innovation as the reason he fell in love with their approach. These three drummers also had something in common: their styles were informed by the jazz and big band traditions.
Naturally, this was the same for Peart, who lauded the same influential drummers from these eras as his contemporaries. He had a particular fascination with the American jazz drummer Buddy Rich, who has influenced nearly every notable sticksman of all time. He was so good that the Rush man called him “too far out of reach.”
Peart once said: “I would often see Buddy Rich play on television, on the ‘Tonight’ show, but I would just shake my head—he seemed too far out of reach. As Gene (Krupa) said about Buddy, ‘There are all the great drummers in the world—and then there’s Buddy’.”
Rich is widely regarded as one of the greatest percussionists of all time. And if any further proof was needed, having a drummer like Neil Peart point him out as such should be case closed.
What separated Peart from many of his contemporaries was the way he treated drumming as an endless pursuit rather than a skill he had already mastered. Even after becoming one of rock music’s most celebrated percussionists, he continued taking lessons well into adulthood, later studying with jazz instructor Freddie Gruber to completely rethink his technique.
For Peart, there was never a finish line. Every tour, album and rehearsal was another opportunity to improve his understanding of rhythm and dynamics.
That relentless curiosity became one of the defining aspects of Rush’s longevity. While many progressive rock acts eventually became trapped by their own complexity, Rush continued evolving because Peart refused to become complacent behind the kit.
Whether leaning into the synthesiser-heavy sound of the 1980s or the heavier guitar-driven material of their later years, his drumming always retained a sense of invention that kept the trio sounding fresh decades into their career.
