I hate thinking about who my “favorite” band is. It varies from day to day, depending on my mood and what speaks to me most at any particular time. That said, even if I couldn’t label them as my favorite right now, my first favorite band was, without a doubt, Rush. I think that was largely because when I was coming of musical age in the 1980s they were still kicking all kinds of ass when the big progressive rock bands of the 1970s were watering down their sound. There was no question I’d read Geddy Lee’s memoir when it came out.

The question is, if you’re not a Rush fan, or at least interested in the lives of musicians, is this book worth reading? Large parts of it probably aren’t. Rush was the biggest part of Lee’s life for decades and so the band’s rise and longevity is a big part of his story. Lots of the details along the way are fascinating, but even I’ll admit that the album-by-album pattern and scattering of stories from the road wore a little thin in the end. Part of that may be down to be being most interested in those details when I’m actually listening to the albums (hard to do when you’re listening to the audio version of the book!).

One fascinating episode that did stand out to me was the detailed story of how the band’s comeback album, Vapor Trails, wound up sounding so shitty. It started with some demos that the band was particularly happy with but weren’t recorded very well (with the intention that they’d never see the light of day). The more they relied on the original demos the more that compromised the ultimate mixing and mastering, resulting in an overly compressed sound. Interesting example of how something great in the very beginning of the creative process can lead to problems in the end (something to keep in mind).

Beyond the music stuff there are two, much heavier, areas where Lee’s book shines.

The first involves his family. Lee’s parents were Holocaust survivors from Poland who emigrated to Canada after the Second World War. He spends a lengthy chapter detailing their story (and those of other relations caught up in the Holocaust) and how he, personally, has dealt with their legacy during his life. One of the threads that runs through the book, then, is Lee’s commitment to his identity as a Jew even though, religiously, he’s an atheist (spurred by discovering his father sneaking off to eat bacon & eggs during a downtown shopping trip). It’s a fascinating dynamic well explored.

The other area is near the end of the book, when Lee deals with the unexpected (to the rest of the world) death of Rush drummer/lyricist Neal Peart. Peart had been the main force slowing down the band’s touring schedule in later years, partly due to wanting to spend more time with his family, having remarried after a pair of tragedies (his daughter and first wife died within months of each other), but also partly due to the physical toll of being a drummer. The band’s final tour was a little tense, with Peart easing toward retirement in a way that Lee, in particular, wasn’t really ready for (guitarist Alex Lifeson kind of fell in between). It was after the band’s last show that Peart learned he had a brain tumor and began deteriorating. Lee’s chronicle of this, of keeping the diagnosis a secret for the famously private Peart and watching as the band’s wordsmith began to slip up when speaking, is heartbreaking.

My Effin’ Life is definitely worth the read if you’re a fan of Rush or rock music in general. Lee is a thoughtful and observant guy, even if he’s not a sterling wordsmith (not for nothing that Peart wrote the lyrics, right?). If don’t fall into that category, I’d recommend starting with the documentary Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage, which covers the band’s history up to 2010 or so and really gives a sense of the bond Lee, Lifeson, and Peart forged over the years. Add in the early chapters of Lee’s book for the family stuff and the last few to cover the time since 2010 and you’re good to go.

Can’t let this pass without some tunes, of course . . .

As for the chicken – well, read the book!