by Mark Pruett
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May is Mental Health Awareness Month. No person is worthless, no situation is hopeless. Please consult our Direct Help Resources page if you or someone you know is in distress. Help is out there.
S.L.A.M. is marking Mental Health Awareness Month with articles about emotionally powerful songs. Not necessarily earworms, the chart toppers, the wedding dance songs, the sappy romances, etc., but the ones that give you all the feelings. No emotion is off limits.
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Rush.
I’ll just let it sit there. What comes to mind when you think of the band? Were you around when Donna Halper at WMMS in Cleveland dropped “Working Man” into rotation? How many hours did you spend unraveling the rich complexity of Fly by Night and then naming your Dungeons & Dragons character By-Tor? How many times have you listened to 2112 front to back? Is your live-show count in the double digits? Triple?
Their catalog is dizzying: Rush, Fly by Night, Caress of Steel, A Farewell to Kings, Hemispheres, Permanent Waves, Moving Pictures, Signals, Grace Under Pressure, Power Windows, Hold Your Fire, Roll the Bones, Counterparts, Test for Echo, Vapor Trails, Snakes and Arrows, and Clockwork Angels. Each era brought its own legends and generational anthems carried across airwaves and etched into the hearts of fans.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking: I skipped Presto. You’re either (sorry, Ted Lasso fans) curious or judgmental. Recorded in 1989 and produced with Rupert Hine, the band set out to return to a more guitar-driven sound. After four synth-heavy releases, this was a deliberate attempt to rediscover freedom in their maturity as musicians and as people. Rush fans tend to love or hate this record. It’s largely overlooked, rarely making any lists.
As a fan of music, I’d always been aware of Rush. But in my adolescence, rebellion came packaged as so-called devil-music… Iron Maiden, Metallica, Slayer, Destruction, Overkill, Death Angel, and the rest of that glorious chaos. With time, I found myself wandering into the hallowed halls of progressive rock and metal, drinking deep from creative aquifers filled with adventure and philosophical horizons.
Proud Swagger Out of the Schoolyard
Somewhere in the mists of time, I began forging the pillars of my life: education, family, career, and self. As a kid, teachers labeled me “gifted,” and I was shuffled into spaces meant to challenge me. Youth makes it easy to adopt a certain swagger and that electric storm in your veins feels like destiny. Eventually, adulthood arrives with its own curriculum.
In my youth, math had been my nemesis and words called to me. I still remember my algebra teacher telling me I wouldn’t amount to much without math. I felt punished for not understanding it and unseen for the creative writing I loved. It was like punishing an elephant for failing to climb a tree. Still, I persisted. I dreamed of becoming an executive in business, walking tall through the concrete jungle of Corporate America.
Perfectionism became the real enemy. In 2010, everything collapsed. I’d been fired twice in a couple of years and drifted into darkness. For two long years, I was out of work. Generation X was taught that our work was who we were. In my mind, I’d been rejected. The truth was more sinister: I feared failure and was terrified of rejection. But some barricades don’t block the only road.
Nothing’s What You Thought it Would Be
My existential crisis had been unfolding for years; I just didn’t recognize it. Nothing was turning out as planned. Friends climbed the corporate ladder, buying bigger houses, even snagging status symbols (classic cars, vacation homes, etc). Success felt like a door slammed in my face. I spent a lot of time wondering why.
At my lowest point, I questioned my value in the universe. Was I worth more dead than alive? Some days it felt that way. Lessons can be cruel in how relentlessly they insist on being learned. I spent a lonely, harrowing moment trembling on a rocky ledge, staring down into a heartless sea.
Three things changed my trajectory. First, I found the courage to ask for help. Second, I discovered Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road by Neil Peart. And finally, I heard “The Pass” from Presto.
This was the turning point.
All of Us Get Lost in the Darkness / Dreamers Learn to Steer by the Stars
It took two years and three therapists to find someone who truly understood me. Fifteen years later, I still lean on that therapeutic relationship through growth, change, and heartache. The value of therapy cannot be overstated. If you’re hurting, overcoming that initial fear and seeking help is crucial. I stand here as proof. It’s hard work… but it’s worth it.
Ghost Rider became a vessel for my grief and a companion in healing. For some of us, movement is medicine. I set a goal to buy a motorcycle and ride just far enough to stay ahead of the black dog of depression. I never met Neil, never worked with him, but on one road trip I bought a cheap coin with a compass on it, and wrote “NP” on the back. To this day, it’s still tucked it into my motorcycle bag and follows me everywhere I ride.
And then there’s “The Pass.” I feel music emotionally, not technically. I can’t break down chord progressions, but I know when a song hits the soul. This one arrived at exactly the right moment and delivered a message I needed: we all struggle, we all stumble, and that’s part of the design.
The human experience demands nimbleness, the ability to adapt, to learn, and to overcome. Yet society paints a different picture. Perfection on social media has become a corrosive trend. I don’t have all the answers. All I can do is share my own saga and hope someone else finds something useful in it.
Turn Around and Walk the Razor’s Edge
Now it’s 2026, and I’m on a different path. I’ve found more peace, though I still harness the occasional storm to power my endeavors. The corporate ladder still eludes me, and I’m fine with that. I’m approaching 30 years of marriage. My kids are on track to graduate college. I’m still growing, still learning. Now things are how I want them to be.
In 2025, I beat cancer, for now. Another test, another story for another time.
If you’re reading this, I hope you find strength. The journey is meant to be a ride with highs and lows. I’m grateful I’ve learned to cope with what life throws at me. Never lose hope, this is key.
I’ve spent plenty of time in the darkness; I just got better at following the stars.
Mark Pruett is Editor in Chief of Whiskey Network and a relentless champion of the local music scene, immersing himself in the raw energy of live shows year-round. He lives with his family in Southern California, forever chasing the next great story.