Geddy Lee's 'My Effin' Life": A Tale of Sound and Ordinary
The autobiography of Rush's lead singer and bassist reveals little about the music of the Canadian power trio and more the trials and tribulations of his 'effin' life.
Controversial journalist H.L. Mencken said, “Never meet your idols. They are sure to disappoint you.” He was right—but I’d add that you should never read your idols' books, because they’ll definitely disappoint you too.
When I heard that Geddy Lee—the co-founder, bassist, and lead vocalist of the Canadian power trio Rush—had written an autobiography, I couldn’t wait to read it. Rush has been a hugely influential force in my life since 1981, when I first heard the opening notes of their best-known anthem, Tom Sawyer, from the seminal album Moving Pictures. The story behind the story was irresistible.
I bought the book, My Effin’ Life, when it came out in 2023, but it sat on my shelf for more than a year. My travel and work schedule just didn’t allow me the time to give it a proper read. Every day, I’d see it sitting there—Geddy’s young eyes, framed by his long hair, calling to me. I thought the book would give me the same thrill I felt when my friend, Geoff Colby, introduced me to the band more than 40 years ago.
As you can read on the About page of More Signal, Less Noise, Rush is the reason you’re reading these words. I was an instant fan of the music and the story—the sci-fi and dystopian themes, the sophistication of the compositions created by Lee (vocals, bass), Alex Lifeson (guitar), and The Professor, Neil Peart (drums).
I was speaking at an event in Raleigh in 2013 when I met an affable Canadian who shared my love of Rush’s music. He told me that his brother was a good friend of Lifeson and that he might be able to broker an introduction. While I was thrilled at the prospect, I treated it with polite dismissiveness. I simply didn’t think it would ever happen.
A few weeks later, he called me and asked if I could be in Hamilton, Ontario, in July to meet the band.
So, my wife and I flew to Buffalo, rented a car, drove to Hamilton, and attended the Clockwork Angels tour concert. We met Lee and Lifeson backstage. It was a thrill. My wife stood next to Alex, saying he was really friendly. I was next to Lee, who was more distant but talkative. Neil never did fan meet-and-greets.
After we took pictures, I turned to Lee and said, “I named my company, The 2112 Group, after you.” 2112, of course, was their breakthrough 1976 album. (The original name of my company, Channelnomics, is “The 2112 Group.” Legally, it still is; its 2112 Enterprises operating as Channelnomics.)
He gave me a look. “Great, another one.”
And that should have been my clue.
My Effin’ Life is a weighty book. And I mean that literally.
It’s 500-plus pages of excruciating detail about Lee—born Gary Lee Weinrib—covering his life from birth to the time of publication. The child of Polish Holocaust survivors, Lee dropped out of high school and rejected his religion in pursuit of music. He and Lifeson, who met in Toronto in the late 1960s, sought to achieve the same musical proficiency and success as their idols—The Who, Buffalo Springfield, Jethro Tull, Jeff Beck, Cream, Yes, and other great bands of the era. Rush wanted to produce powerful, rock-driven sounds.
Through much of the book, Lee vents about his struggles with his relationship with his parents and their religion. He wasn’t a practicing Jew, but he didn’t shy away from his heritage. He appreciated the traditions but also suffered through the discrimination that many Jews faced—even in friendly, tolerant Canada. The fact that Alex was also Jewish, of Serbian descent, helped cement their bond, which has lasted more than 50 years.
Lee talks extensively about his struggles with the Holocaust’s legacy, the death of his father, his conflicts with family beliefs, and the challenges of balancing life as a rock star with marriage and fatherhood. He discusses aging, his time in counseling, and the management issues associated with being in a successful touring band.
Throughout his storytelling, he incessantly details the various studios in which they recorded their 19 original albums. And, of course, he recounts the copious drugs he and the band used throughout their careers.
What Lee doesn’t delve into much is the making of the music.
As a fan, I wanted to know about the inspirations behind albums and songs—the messages they wanted to convey, the imagery that fueled the creative process.
My friend and colleague, Chris Gonsalves, is a musician, and he often talks to me about the music making process. He often laments that music is often just hears the mechanics of music. He’s envious when I tell him that I can see music but can’t play it. I wanted to know what Lee, Lifeson, and Peart were thinking when they conceived their songs. But he often only offers the mechanics.
Lee touches on the inspiration and meanings of the songs but doesn’t go into much detail. He spends more time discussing logistics—his family relationships, the time he spent in counseling, and the realities of managing a successful touring band. There are so many details about the vans, buses, semi-trucks transporting gear, and private flights. The music itself is often referenced only in passing.
Besides his angst over his connection to the Holocaust, the most poignant section of the book is about Peart’s health issues. The perfectionist percussionist wanted to retire. He had suffered through several personal tragedies and age-related health challenges. He wanted to enjoy life. He wasn’t given much of a chance. Peart succumbed to brain cancer in 2020. Lee’s description of this period is heartbreaking.
So, why was My Effin’ Life a disappointment—at least to me?
My hero, the lead singer whose voice often sounded like a cat being flayed, turned out to be just another guy. Despite the long hair, the rock lifestyle, and the years of touring, he was just an ordinary bloke. There’s an honesty in how he depicts his home life and marriage, family relationships, and his friendships with Lifeson, Peart, and others. It’s all just normal.
Throughout my life, I thought of Rush — and Lee, Lifeson, and Peart — as larger than life. Their music projects them as thoughtful, philosophical, introspective people. Their sound and stories lifted them to a plane higher than I could conceive.
What Lee reveals in My Effin’ Life is that he’s just an ordinary guy who shows up for a job—no different from the rest of us.
It’s a simple reality, but still a letdown.
I'm on a mission to read 50 books in 2025. This is book 19 in my journey. What books are you reading? What books should I read? Share your thoughts in the comments or message me. All thoughts and suggestions are welcomed.