Rush: Wednesday June 22, 2011 Gibson Amphitheater, Hollywood, CA
My gastroenterologist thinks I should have a colonoscopy next week, but it’s concert season and Rush is in town, so I have to prioritize and spend my tax-return wisely. Not that I’ve ever really had a desire to see Rush or anything, but their album Hemispheres has been the musical accompaniment to my summer-night’s dalliance with comic-book hero sketching. Yeah, I know, I only bought the record back in ’04 because my favorite drummer name-checked it in an interview as being, ahem, instrumental in the development of his playing but, as obligatory as the purchase was, my myriad attempts to measure up to it wouldn’t allow me to speak of it in less than reverential tones.
So what, if it took me six years to finally recognize it’s fantastical brilliance, Doc? By the way, did I tell you have a gentle touch and excellent bedside manner?
No, I can’t name most the tracks on Moving Pictures. Criminal indeed! My ignorance all this time has been a profound punishment in and of itself – all the more reason why I should witness the, what did you call them? “The Holy Triumvirate.” Yeah, so I only got through one and half of Neil Peart’s travelogues, but regardless of whether or not I have a fleeting interest in his totality as an artist, I do own all his books (dude’s got some peppy prose!) and that long ass instructional video where he breaks out the dance shoes. I get it; I’m a fucking fraud. But, come on man! Hasn’t my asshole – formerly known as “The Rapture” – suffered already for such an oversight on my part? By the way, thanks for bringing remedial relief to that “war-zone.” My eternal thanks!
Nah, I haven’t air-drummed to YYZ.
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