I made a post last year about Ozzy Osbourne, his death, and my feelings on it. It was partially a rant about how absurd it was I was unable to see a show from a performer I’d paid to go see twice and attempted to get tickets a third time, but underlying all that is the frustration of being a fan of older music. Not so old that everybody who performed has died, but just old enough that the performers themselves are aged, tired, and beloved by a large portion of the imperial core (that is, the western world). Growing up, I dreamt of getting to see performers like Bob Seger and Judas Priest on stage in the flesh, but I was deemed too young by my parents to go, and I lived just far enough away from the cities they were performing in that even when I could drive there, my parents didn’t want me to.

At the age of 29, I’m comfortable going wherever to see a good show. But now I’m running into the second problem:

I can’t afford to go see a lot of them. And by the time I can, a lot of them might not be around anymore.

I went to see Dream Theater twice last year; they were celebrating their 40th anniversary with a tour. 10 years go I was supposed to see ZZ Top and Jeff Beck; Dusty Hill broke his hip the week before the show while on tour in another town, and the next thing I knew Dusty died a few years back. I’ve saw Lynyrd Skynyrd, sure, but after every single member of the original band had either died or left. I remember hearing about Motorhead’s Lemmy dying a couple months after I started listening to them seriously. I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be able to see Judas Priest on tour. All the artists I grew up listening to are getting old and gray, and while there’s plenty of new bands who I could go see put on an absolutely kickass show, it’s not quite the same as hearing the band you loved when you were younger playing that song you were listening to for 15 years growing up.

Rush was a band I didn’t get very into until I was in college in 2016; I enjoyed their music, but hadn’t had the internet to do a deep dive on their discography until then. I’d seen some footage from their Clockwork Angels tour on TV, and it was the spark I needed to listen to them. Rush’s last tour was the R40 tour in 2015, however; I’d already missed the chance to see them. And when Neil Peart died in 2020, I knew I’d missed my chance to see a very unique and incredible band.

Or so I thought.

In October of 2025, not too long after the death of Ozzy Osbourne, Rush announced its reunion, sans the late Neil Peart. In his place would be Anika Nilles, a German former teacher and drummer who made a bit of a career for herself in the 2010s as a prog rock drummer. Apparently, the decision to start touring again was inspired by Paul McCartney. If that’s the case, I think I owe a lot to that man.

My discussions about prog rock and music in general were part of the bedrock of my early relationship with my soon-to-be partner. Rush is their favorite band. Their dad’s an oldhead Rush fanatic, and they’re not far behind. As soon as the news broke that Rush was going to be in town, I knew, and we waited with baited breath on tickets. An overwhelmingly large sum of money was handed over for those tickets, not to mention the hotel and plane for me to fly down to meet them, but we were going to see them in Fort Worth, Texas. With their father, the first time I’d met the man.

The meeting went well; apparently, he likes me, though he’d probably never tell me to my face. My partner and I even went to a nice record shop and scored some Rush vinyl, a very rare find in most stores I’ve been to. We all went out for dinner before the show, and that’s when we started hearing the gasps and sighs.

Geddy had laryngitis. Show cancelled.

Another band I thought I’d never see again. I was almost numb to it, at this point.

However, Rush had announced more tour dates after the first round, ones that my partner and their dad already had tickets to go see. So, when we all got the refund for our tickets, them and their father agreed that we could put the money towards us going to see the show in San Antonio later in the year. And thankfully, that one didn’t cancel.

I got to see my wonderful, amazing partner, see their favorite band and one of mine, years after we thought it wouldn’t be possible anymore. No wonder I cried so much during the concert. Especially when they came out playing one of my favorite songs, Xanadu.

My partner was singing along the whole show, every word. We probably should’ve worn ear protection, but the thought of missing out on even a small amount of the music was just too much for us to bear. I can say that there’s very little in the world that’s ever felt more right than getting to watch Rush with my arm wrapped around my partner, both of us belting out the lyrics to The Spirit of Radio. And we spent a while guessing at what they’d play (I’m not a setlist peeker; I like the surprise). I can honestly say there’s not a single song that I wish they would’ve played that they didn’t. I got to listen to the entirety of La Villa Strangiato, for fuck’s sake.

There was a very solid portion of the show that was dedicated to Neil’s memory, as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a wonderful way to celebrate a man who dedicated most of his life to making music. Small clips of interviews of Neil and people talking about him interspersed between songs reminded part of me why Neil’s so interesting to me. Neil’s probably the person who I’d be most interested in having a conversation with, were it possible to do so. As a fan, sure; but just about every time I hear something about Neil’s thoughts and philosophy, I feel like I resonate with a lot of it.

When a friend or family member passes, you often find yourself wondering how they’d like to be remembered. As a loved and cherished person, sure, but the specifics on that are always the question. Neil Peart is remembered by the general public for his introspective lyrics, his incredible drumming, but also his penchant to keep his life outside of the performances private. He was a lone motorcycle rider, always looking to explore new things in the world to spur thoughts internally. Looking to be left on his own to sort his own thoughts out. He was a poet, putting his thoughts to paper and sharing them with the world through song. I think if there was to be any public remembrance of Neil, honoring the legacy he left behind by playing some of the songs he helped write over a 40 year career as a performer and entertainer is the way to do it.

I think the most special thing that happened was right at the start of one of the songs, though. I’m a few weeks removed from the event, so I don’t recall which song, but I think it was during Spirit; right as the lights came up and I saw Geddy standing, looking at Anika. And… it was just a trick of the light, but something in the way Geddy was standing, the angle and the dimness of the stage lights before they roared to life… I could swear I saw Geddy as he was 50 years ago. Fresh-faced, long hair flowing, wearing bell-bottom jeans, about to absolutely rock the world. Rush still has that effect, 50 years later.

As we reach the closing of a window of opportunity to see these bands from the 70s and 80s play at all, I find myself thinking about the level of artistry these people put into their work. All the long hours into the night in the studio, on the road, that made rock music such a whirlwind experience, both for the crowds but also for the performers. Millions of people were inspired to pick up an instrument, create their own art, and that legacy lives right on down to the modern day, with Rush tribute bands and prog groups that are still kicking today. I may never get to see some of the bands I grew up listening to, but I’ll still be able to pull up their music, recorded decades ago, and jam along with them. For the bands I have been fortunate enough to see in concert, however, the experience has always been magical, and Rush is certainly one of the most incredible shows I’ve been to.

Geddy and Alex are as good as ever, and they still have that youthful, playful energy, hopping around the stage like kids in a candy store, smacking into one another. Anika does an amazing job filling in for Neil, and Loren Gold a phenomenal job supporting Geddy’s keyboard work. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to see them again, but I can’t say I’d have any regrets if I couldn’t. Rush means a lot to me and a lot of other people, and even more now that I’m able to say that I saw them with my partner. Even without Neil, it means the world to me that I got to see another band that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really get to.

Cheers, Dralnah