It was on Date No. 250 when I casually mentioned, “So I’m in this tribute band ...”
Blank stare.
“It’s a Rush tribute band. We’re called Fly By Night.”
Curious stare.
“It’s me, Spencer and Kirk. We don’t have instruments, in the traditional sense. We don’t have any, whatever they are called, ‘dates’ [at this, I form hand quotes, which I rarely use]. We don’t actually play. We don’t know how to play. We don’t have any fans.”
Alarming stare, followed by, “You waited until our 250th date to tell me this?”
“We do have a promotional photo,” I forged on, blithe to the stricken expression across the table. “And a set list. And we are working on a tour schedule. Spencer usually fronts that effort. I’m more on the creative side, and I do some advance work. Kirk just plays the drums ... or would, if he could.”
Apoplectic stare, followed by a slap to the forehead.
Fly By Night was formed about five years ago, officially, but it is an effort that spans three lifetimes. This unholy FBN trinity of myself, LV Weekly music editor Spencer Patterson and Kirk Baird, entertainment editor of the News group of community newspapers, are all avid Rush fans who can easily recite the lyrics to such gems as “By-Tor and the Snow Dog.” When Rush announced that Las Vegas would be on its 2002 world tour, we discovered we were all similarly touched by the legendary Canadian power trio. At the time, we were all members of the Accent staff at the Las Vegas Sun. Spencer was pursuing an interview with Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson. As he was prepping, one of us floated the idea of forming a Rush tribute band. I think Spencer gets credit for that—he’s the band’s pragmatist. I came up with Fly By Night as our name, playing off the great 1976 album with the white owl on the cover.
At some point as Kirk, Spencer and I discussed the concept of FBN, we took on the identity of an actual band. Without a tinge of irony, we would make casual asides to each other like, “You going to make rehearsal tonight?” or, “We have to finalize that set list.” As the band—the real band, Rush—prepped for its 30th anniversary tour in 2004, I received a set of promotional photos at the office. Sarah Walters, who would become Sarah Baird, mocked up a photo of our faces over those of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart. It would become our primary promotional photo, if we ever had anything—such as a concert tour or album—to promote. Once, a co-worker stopped at Spencer’s desk to admire the photo and said, “I didn’t know you guys played.” We offered him a job as our road manager.
Why Rush? For me, I was first drawn in by Peart’s gift for songwriting. It transcended the music, which did take me a while to appreciate, particularly Lee’s whooping-crane voice. But I liked a lot of the writing, such as the line in “Freewill,” “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice,” which seemed a bit more provocative than “Shake Your Groove Thing” and most of the other Top 40 dance stuff that was out at the time. In fact, I read the lyrics on Rush album sleeves (and later, in the CD booklets) before even playing the music, and found that my vocabulary, whaddyacallit ... expanded, in the process.
Today I would be known as a Rush geek, I suppose, but I’ve long been comfortable as such. I have seen Rush perform many times; my first show was at the Oakland Alameda County Coliseum Arena during the Moving Pictures tour. I was 16 the first time I attended a Rush show and am 41 today as I await Saturday night’s show at the MGM Grand Garden Arena.
Geddy, Alex and Neil have aged, too. All are in their 50s. And maybe I should finally grow up, and put Rush—and Fly By Night—to rest. Most people say our tribute project is no more than a pathetic return to adolescence.
To which I respond, “return”?
And boys, we need to get back in the studio ...
Rush. July 28, 8 p.m., $50-$125. MGM Grand Garden Arena, 891-7777.