In high school, when I was fourteen, a friend introduced me to “Tom Sawyer” and I was hooked. I loved the book of course, but here was a song updating it, asking you to think. The music was unique and searing to me, the story puzzling. It sounded so severe. Catch the myth!

I sought out everything by this band, and wanted to know all about them. The drummer, Neil Peart, pronounced like ‘ear’, my friend told me, wrote the lyrics. I listened to 2112 again, and again, hunting for meaning in the sci fi epic they’d created. I read whatever I could find about them in music magazines, where they were laughably compared to Zeppelin, who I also liked, but who of course are nothing like Rush, except maybe because they played heavy music. The Farewell to Kings album challenged me to think of philosophy, even asked the listener to go and read Coleridge.

I’d found THE BAND. This was my stuff. I didn’t care if anyone thought they were uncool, or didn’t like the singer’s voice. These guys were the best, hands down, no arguments, and anyone who didn’t get that, well, they were missing out.

Gaming sessions, road trips, just hanging out and reading or talking with friends, Rush was always there. I read Neil’s lyrics again and again. “Live for yourself, there’s no one else more worth living for!” Well, wasn’t that a bit much, kind of selfish, I thought? The liner notes mentioned Ayn Rand, so I read her. I didn’t love everything she said, maybe, but it was worth thinking about.

By Tor and the Snow Dog. Return of the Prince. Cygnus X-1. Xanadu. Rivendell. The Twilight Zone. Catch the Myth! What wonderful music for a teenager, a perfect complement to Lord of the Rings, Asimov, Bradbury, and all the other books I loved. These songs became the soundtrack of everything I did and thought about as I developed from a young teen to a young man. I read widely and soaked in everything, always inspired by writers I loved, and by Rush, these guys who melded thoughtful, epic poetry with heavy rock. What could be better music for a young kid growing up?

In college I found other music and literature, but a new Rush album was always an event, always followed by repeated listenings, dissection of the lyrics, tracing the arc of the band as they grew and matured.

I got to see them once in college, and it was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. They played a deep set for hours, including all of 2112 plus their latest record, Test for Echo.

Life went on, and I always had a rush cassette in the car, a cd in my player, then later all loaded up on an mp3 player. Somehow I never got to see them again, since something always got in the way. Then in 2013, hearing rumors of the end of the road, I got some tickets to the Clockwork Angels tour. That was a stunning work, a return to the epics I fell in love with as a young man, accompanied by a science fiction novel by Kevin Anderson. A concept album to top all concept albums. I absolutely loved it. The show was the greatest concert I’ve ever witnessed.

A couple of years later, they announced their retirement, yet I didn’t believe it. I didn’t blame Neil for wanting some peace and some time to spend with his young daughter. He’d been through so much tragedy and I was happy for him. But, I thought, they were still so young. In a few years, I figured, Neil would get bored and at the very least they’d do some studio stuff and a short tour. I would see them again.

So when the news came last week, I just didn’t accept it at first. This is how you feel anytime you get the news about someone close to you. Of course, I never met Neil, but I knew his lyrics. I knew his drumming. I intimately knew and was influenced by the Rush catalog. No, I don’t know these guys, but they affected me more than any other rock band.

All weekend I watched videos of concerts, interviews, drum solos. I read lyrics that inspired me as a boy and that still do today.

Suddenly, you were gone/From all the lives you left your mark upon

And I kept thinking of the final song from Clockwork Angels, the album I always assumed could not possibly be their last. It was so perfect, so wonderful, and so encapsulated everything that made Rush such a unique, powerful force. What a way to go out. The Garden:

The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect
The way you live, the gifts that you give
In the fullness of time
It’s the only return that you expect

RIP Neil Peart, you were a unique soul. Thank you for all the good times.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the music of Ric Ocasek and Robert Hunter, who both passed away in the last week. In the 80s it was impossible to escape the catchy, melodic pop of The Cars, not that anyone wanted to. Like many young teens I learned of them on MTV and the goofy, fun video where Ric followed around his muse, to her annoyance. At the time, I was about 12, and when I delved a bit deeper I loved every song I heard. The Cars didn’t do half-measures. Every album is total commitment to their visionary music, with beautifully crafted songs that you hum for hours after you hear them. The quality of those records was stunning to me, as I listened to many of them again in the past week. The only other band I can think of with such consistently great and catchy songs is maybe Creedence. I have read a few critics comparing them to the Beach Boys in recent days, and that seems an apt comparison; both groups have obsessions with teen love and angst, and created uniquely American sounds that wove these interests into a tapestry of glorious pop rarely equaled. If you want to know what the late 70s and 80s was like as a teenager in America, you should probably start by listening to the Cars. Like so many others, I was sad to hear that Ric had passed away. Though I never saw the band, he seemed in interviews and his public persona to be a thoughtful, gentle soul, one of the good guys.

It would be hard to imagine a band more different from the Cars than The Grateful Dead. Robert Hunter’s lyrics were inseparable from the spaced out, hippy image they had, and it is impossible to envision the band without his poetic contributions. I discovered the Dead in college and always enjoyed their music. I remember being surprised that the lyricist was not Jerry or any of the members of the band, but Hunter.  Soulful, thoughtful, often sad and funny, his words transported you to another world just as much as Garcia’s meandering guitar did. I was sorry to hear of his passing, as well.

Both The Cars and The Dead inspired so many; The Dead of course had more longevity, and had a whole other level of devotion which was hard to understand for outsiders like me. But at the heart of things, I think, there is a lot of truth in the music of both bands that speaks directly to the listener, be they heartsick teens or old reminiscing hippies. Ric’s straightforward lyrics belie the complexity of his songs. When he or his bandmate Benjamin Orr sing, for example, “I don’t mind you comin here, wastin’ all my time,” it’s language we all understand, certainly. No one who has ever had a crush could mistake what he means, I don’t think.  The music is so well crafted and energetic that it’s hard not to sing along, tap your feet and feel like you’re speeding along the highway with Ric and the rest of the guys.  Ocasek’s delivery on songs like ‘Good Times Roll,’ is so cool, self assured and laconic it’s contagious. There is so much joy in their music that you can’t listen for long without smiling.

Hunter’s lyrics are a different kind of puzzle. For my ears, at times he got a bit too precious, or tried perhaps too hard to sound like an old weird folk tune. But when they worked, man it could stir your soul. “What I want to know is, are you kind?” “If I knew the way, I would take you home.” Now that can give you chills, especially when delivered by Garcia and his mates, full of soul and wisdom. They could be funny, too: “On the day that I was born, daddy sat down and cried.”

I feel lucky to have grown up and come of age listening to such fine music. Fare Thee Well, Robert. Ric, It was Magic.

 

 

Like many fans, I was reading George RR Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire for years before the television show came out. I enjoyed the books, which were beautifully told epic fantasy of the kind I’ve always been looking for since I first read The Lord of the Rings as a teenager. My brother in law gave me the first book at Christmas in 2004, and I eagerly devoured it and everything that came after. Martin, I felt, had modernized the genre, and was giving us all a terrific ride with his intrigue filled, sometimes twisted and always unpredictable novels.

When the show came out, I embraced it, as so many millions did. The casting was amazing, the story wonderfully told, faithful to the books, the production values more than any fantasy fan could hope for. I felt as if we’d been given a new episode of Tolkien every Sunday evening, for years. Even when I felt disappointed by certain elements, overall the show was something my wife and I looked forward to every week.

Though I was dismayed when the show passed the events of Martin’s most recent entry in the series, I still enjoyed it all immensely, and was sorry to see it end. What an epic tale! What a journey they took us on! The final episodes were in many ways reminiscent to me of the end of Return of the King. Arya and the Night King was for me Frodo at Mt. Doom. Jon Snow saying farewell to his family felt like the parting at the Grey Havens. Game of Thrones is our era’s Lord of the Rings; if you enjoy epic fantasy, it doesn’t get much better than this.

So, thanks to George for writing this. Thanks to all the showrunners and writers and actors for putting in on TV year after year. It was an inspired, and inspiring run. I cannot wait to see Martin’s final two books in the series, since it is his story, and he is the one who made all this possible.

It makes me want to write things myself, and if that isn’t the greatest compliment of all, I don’t know what is.

I recently saw the new Tolkien film, directed by Dome Karukoski, starring Nicholas Hoult in the title role, and Lily Collins as Edith Bratt, who would become Tolkien’s wife. I strongly recommend this movie, whether you’re familiar with Tolkien’s life and work or not. It’s a nice homage to a man whose work has captured the imagination of millions of readers.

Tolkien hits many of the right notes in bringing us through his tragic childhood, the death of his mother, and his early life as a student. Colm Meany plays father Francis Morgan, who was Tolkien’s guardian after his mother died, and the inestimable Derek Jacobi plays Tolkien’s mentor and professor at Oxford. We get a sense of the friendships Tolkien made as a young man, and follow him through his studies, and the outbreak of World War I. The movie of course takes liberties with his biography, as all movies of this kind will, but overall the film does a good job in getting us emotionally invested in Tolkien’s early life.

Edith Bratt was the love of Tolkien’s life, and their budding romance is handled nicely in the film. It is hard not to feel sympathy for these two orphans who would create a family of their own together. There are also scenes of the horror Tolkien experienced in the Somme, and viewers get an idea of how Tolkien was inspired by this to start creating Middle-earth. Hoult shows intensity in Tolkien’s obsession with languages and his devotion to his friends, and to Edith. I found the film very moving, and it left me with a sense of how difficult his formative years were. Yet from this crucible, he created a beloved mythology that will outlast us all.

The Tolkien estate has already criticized this movie, as is their right, but their opposition makes little difference to those who want to see it–they also disliked Peter Jackson’s films, which of course the public hated to the tune of best picture awards, and a worldwide haul that was greater than Smaug’s treasure hoard. I’ve also read complaints that the film is not Catholic enough, or historical enough. No doubt eventually some aggrieved superfan will criticize the absence of elves and dwarves. (I find the Catholic criticisms particularly amusing, as it is leveled every time a Tolkien movie, exhibit or book is released; it seems enraged Catholic critics want the world to see a version of this film that is two hours of Tolkien attending mass, going to confession, and perhaps railing endlessly against secular humanism. Maybe the Church ought to just canonize the man and be done with it.) I think these strong reactions show that everyone feels so close to Tolkien and his work, and would like to claim him as their own, but Tolkien belongs to the world. Ignore the complaints, and decide for yourself. If you are interested in Tolkien, I can say as a lifelong fan that you won’t be disappointed. It might even inspire you to pick up some of his works you haven’t read, or delve into a biography—Humphrey Carpenter’s wonderful book would be a good start.

Hullo fair traveler! Our post Tolkien Reading Day news is long overdue! A few notes concerning our March 23rd event, the Lewis and Tolkien play in NYC, a Narnia Inspired poem by author Ryder Miller, and a few tidbits. On Friday March 23rd we gathered at Baruch College, our NYC Tolkien Fellowship meeting hall, to […]

via Concerning Hobbits, Wardrobes and Rings — The New York Tolkien Conference & Fellowship

I’m happy to have an essay in Forgotten Leaves, a new collection of essays on JRR Tolkien. My essay relates to the different games based in Middle-earth that have been released over the years. There are some wonderful contributors to this book–go to the Myth Ink site to check out the table of contents.

I’ll be talking about my contribution on a panel at the NY Tolkien Conference on June 13 at Baruch College. Registration is currently full, but there is a waiting list if you haven’t registered but are interested in attending.

I’m happy to have my short story, “The Vintner of Little Neck,” included in this newly released anthology, Dark Tales From Elder Regions: New York from Myth Ink Books.

The collection includes nineteen stories by some wonderful contributors, as well as twenty illustrations by artist Luke Spooner. Editors Anthony Burdge and Jessica Burke have contributed stories as well. Check out their website–they have plenty of other cool books for sale.