Every band has an origin story. Some are born of local bar gigs, Craigslist ads, or teenage garage sessions. For Dream Theater, the spark came through a waiting line outside the Berklee Performance Center in Boston, while standing overnight for Rush tickets and listening to Caress of Steel.
In a recent interview with Tom Power, host of Q on CBC Radio One, Mike Portnoy pulled back the curtain on just how deeply Rush influenced his path as a musician—and how they were instrumental in shaping Dream Theater long before the band was known by that name.
“I mean, you’re talking to a Rush fanatic here. And Dream Theater was built and born out of our love for Rush. In fact, the first name of the band before Dream Theater, we were called Majesty. We were waiting in line at Berklee College of Music. It was 1985. And myself, John Petrucci, and John Myung, we met out of a mutual love for Rush.”
That common thread—three students connected through admiration for a band known for precision, storytelling, and artistic integrity—would set the tone for everything Dream Theater would later become.
“That was the type of band we wanted to be. They saw me jamming in a practice room wearing Rush T-shirts and stuff like that. So we knew that was a common ground for us. And like I was going to say, we came up with the first name of the band was Majesty.”
The name wasn’t an accident. It came out of the kind of musical and cultural immersion that defined fandom in the pre-digital age.
“We were waiting in line for Rush tickets, sleeping outside. Back then, it wasn’t like nowadays, where you just wake up and click a button on your laptop, and you get your tickets. You know, back then you had to go on a Saturday morning, sleep out in front of the ticket master to get your tickets. So we were sleeping out at the Berklee Performance Center outside there, waiting for Rush tickets for the Power Windows tour. And we were listening to Caress of Steel, and the song “Bastille Day” came on,” Portnoy recounted.
“And we were like, oh, man, listen to that. The ending when they go into the halftime thing and the guitar melody. We’re like, that’s so majestic. And we’re like, hey, that’d be a great name for the band, Majesty. And that was where the name of the band was born.”
Beyond the name, Rush gave Portnoy something even more vital — purpose. A clear sense of what kind of musician he wanted to become.
“I was ready to really become a better drummer. And I wanted to learn more about the drums and develop more as a musician. So Rush‘s music immediately blew my mind and I became obsessed with them and became obsessed with Neil and everything I learned about progressive music, odd time signatures, the giant drum kit, the way to orchestrate drum parts melodically, I got all that from Neil.”
Few drummers have inspired such wide-reaching reverence as Neil Peart. For Portnoy, discovering Peart was about expanding what a drummer could be, both behind the kit and beyond it: “So once I discovered Neil, it developed me as a drummer and a musician in general. The fact that he was the band’s lyricist as well really inspired me. I ended up becoming one of the lyricists in Dream Theater as well.”
That inspiration led Portnoy down a rabbit hole of progressive music’s pioneers and oddball innovators — a lineage he traces directly from Rush: “At that point, I took the deep dive into Rush and Neil and from there discovered other stuff like, you know, like Frank Zappa‘s music or drummers like Simon Phillips and Terry Bozio or like I mentioned earlier, Yes and Crimson and Genesis and all that early prog stuff. But Rush and Neil were the jumping off point for me.”
Still, despite all the comparisons and connections drawn between Rush and Dream Theater, Portnoy didn’t meet Peart until he was well into his career — something that speaks to the late drummer’s carefully guarded personal life.
“I didn’t get to know Neil until many years into my career, because as everybody knows, Neil was very, a very private person. And it was hard to infiltrate that bubble. You know, he had a very close inner circle. And to, you know, to break down that wall and get to him, it took years and years of me trying to. I had gotten to know like every other drummer on Earth, doing drum festivals and things like that. But Neil was always very elusive,” Portnoy explained.
The eventual meeting came not through music directly, but through a unique editorial opportunity.
“And then around 2006 or so is when we met for the first time. And I was given free rein for a magazine, Rhythm magazine in the UK. They gave me an issue where I could be the guest editor and take over the magazine and interview. They wanted me to pick four of my biggest influences to interview. And of course, Neil was number one on the list. And it was Neil, Bill Bruford, Lars Ulrich, and Nick Mason from Pink Floyd.”
It was in a hotel room in New York, during a book tour, that the two drummers finally met face to face. And even with all the professional accomplishments Portnoy had under his belt, this was a full-circle moment.
“That was my first time meeting Neil. And I was given the opportunity to meet with him at his hotel room in New York. He was on tour, doing a book tour. And, you know, everybody always compared us to Rush and always brought us and Rush up in the same conversation. So, yeah, he knew who I was. But we had never met or spoken. And once I had that first opportunity, first of all, it was great that my job was to interview him because I was able to ask all the fanboy questions I always wanted to know. And it wasn’t inappropriate. You know, if we had met under social circumstances, I couldn’t ask him,” Portnoy remembered.
From that first conversation grew a lasting connection — something built slowly, but with deep mutual respect.
“You know, for the next 15 years until he passed, we stayed in close touch. He would write me these long emails. You know, his emails were, you know, infamous, you know, like reading his books or his lyrics, you know, just really well thought out and well crafted. And I’d get these emails from him all the time with pictures of him and his young daughter who was growing up. And he would always send me his new books when they came out or when Rush was coming through town. He’d always invite me out to a sound check.”
What Portnoy describes is the kind of friendship that transcends the usual rock star narrative: personal, intellectual, and generous.
“And he was just so gracious like that. Once you get to know him and once he befriends you, he was such a genuine, giving person to people that he was friends with. And I’m honored that I eventually got to that point with him.”
In a world where musical influence is often reduced to borrowed riffs or aesthetic choices, Portnoy’s story shows that it can run deeper, into personal identity, creative philosophy, and even long-distance friendship. It started with a boombox, a sleeping bag, and “Bastille Day”. The rest, as they say, is history.
