Last week, the music world was shocked and saddened by the passing of Neil Peart, drummer and lyricist for the Canadian progressive rock group Rush. Peart died Jan.7 at the age of 67 following a three-and-a-half-year battle with brain cancer. His illness was never disclosed to the public, as Peart was an intensely private man.
Peart joined Rush in 1974 and almost immediately made a profound impact through his introspective, literary lyrics and a fiercely-charging drumming style that was as imaginative and artistic as it was technically proficient. To generations of rock fans who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, Peart came to symbolize the pinnacle of his profession. His drum fills, especially on the band’s signature hit “Tom Sawyer,” made him a singularly unique player, as the band’s sound was viewed as driven by the drums.
Fans and critics alike would argue the merits of any rock band’s components—vocals, lead guitars, bass—and find it difficult to find common ground as to which performer was the top in his/her field. No online listicles could agree with one another on the top guitar player, arguing in favor of Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, Eddie Van Halen or another virtuoso. Even fewer could pinpoint the best singer—Roger Daltrey, Mick Jagger, Freddie Mercury, Robert Plant—without descending into an endless debate. But Peart, it seemed, stood head and shoulders above all, with apologies to Keith Moon and John Bonham. Ask 10 people to pick their top drummer, and at least half would cite the Professor, as Peart was known.
OK, you ask, so what does this have to do with the office technology dealer space? Peart’s quest for constant improvement is one of inspiration. I’d like to share a quick story, as taken from the documentary “Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage.”
Recognizing a Problem
In the early 1990s, with the band evolving its sound and coming out of the era of synthesizers, Peart felt his playing had become somewhat stiff. It was somewhat of a product of working with sequencers and click tracks; perhaps Peart felt his style had become too mechanical. Mind you, he was at that point considered the dean of rock drummers, with few equals and definitely none superior.
How did Peart resolve this issue? He studied under a mentor, jazz drummer and noted teacher Freddie Gruber. Drumming was not only about the strike on the drum head, they said, but the motion in-between. Gruber likened it to a dance: the action taking place is not on the floor but in the air. The two men sat behind kits, but it didn’t involve playing. They talked mostly about motion. In the end, Peart changed his grip, used a different approach and, as a result, felt more relaxed and less stilted behind the drum kit.
I’m not a professional or even an amateur drummer, but the revelation behind Peart’s quest for self-improvement simply blew me away. Still, it makes perfect sense. The very best in a craft, whether it’s musicians, writers, painters or sculptors, need to constantly push themselves to find areas for growth. Granted, some of the changes Peart implemented were somewhat esoteric and mostly opaque to the average listener, who isn’t attuned to technique or music theory. But it changed the way Peart thought about music, along with his approach, which opened his world to even more possibilities to flourish and challenge himself in new and exciting ways.
How is this any different from the world of business? It’s not, of course. Even if you are at the top of the heap in your field, that quest for constant improvement requires a firm commitment to keep moving forward. Whether its sales, management, technical or customer service, it’s about challenging the things you know or think to be true, and a willingness to admit that your thinking or approach could be flawed or in need of a refresh. It’s about putting sacred cows out to pasture and asking yourself, “How can I raise my game?”
Making the Old New Again
Peart sought out a different process to do something that he’d performed ad nauseam over (at that point) 20-odd years. And though he was deemed the best in his profession virtually by acclaim—he could’ve ridden “Tom Sawyer” and “YYZ” into rock-and-roll folklore—Peart sought out help and a new perspective. He wasn’t content in resting on his reputation. The Professor sought out his better self, and that required going back to school.
You know the dealer game better than I know drumming, so I’m not going to preach next steps or suggest new offerings. This blog is all about recognizing the benefits of another approach. We’ve all been in a rut, feeling “stiff” or robotic in what we do. The needed changes, as in Peart’s case, might be as opaque to your customers as it was to his fans. Whatever tweak you implement might expand your base, reinvigorate your teams, allow you to implement a new process, or just try something different that had never occurred to you previously.
If constant improvement is good enough for arguably the world’s greatest drummer, it stands to reason we can all benefit from checks on our chops.
