Everybody Knows This is Nowhere - Neil Young, with Crazy Horse

Neil Young's album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, issued in 1969, had drifted in my affections in recent years, my attention tending to focus on the material which was released by the Canadian singer-songwriter in the mid-to-late 70s.  Part of the reason for this may be down to an (erroneous) perception that the sophomore record is unduly dominated by the two "epic" tracks, "Down By The River" and "Cowgirl in The Sand".

Closer and honest inspection, however, underlines the overall quality and depth of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. It certainly exudes more bite and energy than the artist's debut album. This record is a showcase for the harder-edged dimension of the Young repertoire, though balanced out by some mellower and more melodic fare.  The LP introduces us to the inimitable and idiosyncratic Crazy Horse groove.

"Cinnamon Girl" is a concise and accessible interpretation of the Crazy Horse pattern. The title track combines the gritty guitar sound with a melodic country-rock atmosphere - a pleasing and satisfying blend.

The overall mood of this work is one of introspection and melancholy, although the odd slice of qualified optimism does strive to break through.

"Round and Round (It Won't Be Long)" has a genuinely hypnotic quality, and it harks back in tone and style to the first album, to my ears at least. In truth the song goes on for too long, although I'm not usually someone who complains about such things. It is easy to begin to lose interest just after the halfway mark.

One of the centrepieces of the record, "Down By The River" has that insistent groove, the instrumentation managing to ally minimalism with vitality, especially during the soloing. The fine vocal harmonies nicely embellish the track.

"The Losing End (When You're On)" is mournful and likeable, if rather lightweight. It doesn't exactly constitute light relief, but it is a nice contrast to the other numbers. Again, tinges of country-rock, with added punch.

The next song, "Running Dry (Requiem for the Rockets)" has more substance, a distinctive ambience, largely supplied by the haunting violin. My reaction when listening to this one is to liken it to a traditional folk song. Neil's vocal here is very restrained, but intimate and effective. The guitar textures help to create an affecting mood.

The second of the "epics" is "Cowgirl In The Sand", with enigmatic lyrics which may or may not be about some mystical or idealized woman. This one has a real energy and verve, partly due to the "shuffling" rhythm and some unusually prominent bass. Another noticeable feature is the "separation" between the lead and rhythm guitars,

So to summarize, when listened to closely this album reveals itself as very organic and powerful, and one of Neil Young's strongest and most consistent artistic statements, containing very little in the way of filler. Unsettling and haunting in places, but beautifully crafted and quite absorbing and atmospheric.

Deja Vu - Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

Many years ago, when I was first getting into the whole folk-rock/singer-songwriter genre, Crosby Stills and Nash (and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) were an obvious port of call.  However, before too long, as my radar logically encompassed yet more artists and bands, the CSN sound suddenly appeared somewhat anemic and lacking in grit by comparison.

I have always felt that CSN/CSNY were at their strongest when the trademark vocal harmonies were based around either a basic acoustic folk foundation or a more "aggressive" rock backing. The "third way", prevalent on the debut album from 1969, doubtless buttressed the group's "counterculture" credentials, but it has not necessarily aged that well.

Deja vu leaves me with a good feeling. It is a satisfying work which although eclectic, packs a coherent punch. The impact of Neil Young might actually have been less than is sometimes imagined, but there is genuine substance to the end result. I would go so far as to say that Deja vu is a bonafide rock album, whereas the previous Crosby, Stills and Nash record was "folk-rock".

There is a harder edge to the performances, and also to some of the subject matter being explored. The material is pleasantly balanced in tone and content, and has more of a "group" flavour to it.

So what about "the Young effect"?  He doesn't appear on all of the tracks, but his guitar work enriches proceedings, and "Country Girl" has real mystique. On reflection, it may be that the mere hiring of Neil, and his presence, prompted a new dynamism, by causing the others to raise their game and find new impetus and inspiration.  "Helpless" is widely admired as a song, but frankly I have always felt it to be rather hollow.  Well performed, yes, but by Young's standards, unexceptional.

I had a tendency to view Graham Nash as a "junior partner", but the more I learn the more I realize what a vital role he played in making this combo function. His spirit and enthusiasm were crucial, and his instrumental contribution was greater than is often thought.  His two songs "Teach Your Children" and "Our House", with their simple melodic sensibilities, perfectly complement the more outlandish offerings elsewhere on Deja vu. 

David Crosby's part was equally important;mercurial and quixotic, and occasionally sublime.  The title track is admittedly an acquired taste. "Almost Cut My Hair" has attracted some hostility and ridicule, it would seem, but I fail to see why. It contains some sizzling guitar playing by Stills and Young, and an expressive vocal, and it manages to be both coherent and edgy.

On Deja vu, each song has a strong and distinct identity. The sound is rich, warm and uncluttered, inviting the listener to embrace it. Considering the cultural context in which this record was made, there is comparatively little in the way of preaching and moralizing.

"Carry On" is a strong opening number.  I know that some people will see it as "CSNY by numbers", but it has a freshness and an unwavering incisiveness which permeate much of this LP. The cover of Joni Mitchell's "Woodstock" exudes commitment and intent, and is further aided by Still's bluesy vocal delivery and a nice, breezy production.  "4+20" is the one nod on the album to traditional, stripped down singer-songwriter folk, and it is a good showcase for Stills' talents.

Deja vu is a fine document of an era, and also a jolly good rock album.

Neil Young's debut album (1968)

After a hiatus, I am back to listening to the music of Neil Young quite avidly. The authenticity and emotional depth of his work is impossible to ignore for too long. He is one of the most interesting singer/songwriters to study, because of his restless spirit and unpredictability.

Neil Young's debut album, self-titled and released in 1968, tends to be forgotten by the wider music world, in part because it contained comparatively few of his classic or best-known songs. I had even forgotten Ry Cooder's involvement with the record.  Anyway, I recently revisited the Neil Young album in an effort to reappraise it.

The presence of two "superfluous" instrumental numbers, "The Emperor of Wyoming" and "String Quartet from Whiskey Boot Hill", I find a tad mystifying, especially for a singer-songwriter.  While it helps to imbue Neil Young with a certain quirkiness, some might contend that it betrays a shortage of genuinely strong material to put on the record. Perhaps the nature of the track listing was an early indicator of the idiosyncratic and maverick path which the Canadian's solo career would follow?

The overall sound and character of some of the album carries echoes of Buffalo Springfield, which is hardly surprising.  In fact, the tone feels more "Sixties" to me than "70s singer-songwriter".

The one song contained on the album which has endured to a significant degree is "The Loner".  This memorable tune adds real gravitas, and makes the album better than it would otherwise have been. It is one of those dramatic, intriguing Young numbers with an impenetrable aura to it.

Another item in a vaguely similar vein to "The Loner" is "I've Been Waiting For You", which has its own mystique and atmosphere, and even exudes a touch of the psychedelic.

"The Old Laughing Lady" is another song of substance, and is redolent of some of Young's more ambitious and experimental excursions from his tenure with Buffalo Springfield. The influence of Jack Nitzsche is also discernible in the arrangement. Lyrically it would also seem to point the way forward for the songwriter.

One of the other noteworthy compositions to feature here is "Here We Are In The Years", which appears to address issues of "getting back to the country", ecological concerns, the alienating effects of modern life and the pursuit of a simpler, more pastoral existence, themes which were prevalent in much of the rock music being created in 1968. I hear a synthesizer too, which might sound incongruous, but actually works well, and this number has a vaguely "baroque" feel to it.  A certain poignancy and dignity underpin the song, and it quietly qualifies as a minor classic, in my estimation.

The penultimate track, "I've Loved Her So Long", contains some of the hallmarks which would characterize Young's later work, and it is perfumed with zest, things happening. Although an unexceptional song, it is a rather captivating piece of music, with a pleasing presence.

The record closes with "The Last Trip to Tulsa", which anticipates some of the artist's "epic" efforts. The lingering Bob Dylan influence is detectable in the lyrics at least. The earthy nature of the acoustic guitar is a welcome relief - there is not enough of it on the album. Like with some other songs on the LP, though, it is somehow not fully satisfying, as if the artist had not yet found some secret ingredient which would elevate his music to a different plane, emotionally speaking.

The vocals on this record seem to lack authority, and the character and warmth, which we would grow to associate with Young, although this may have been attributable to the mix, or to a lack of confidence by the singer in his own voice.

Neil Young was clearly a formidable talent, and this had been demonstrated by his contributions to Buffalo Springfield. This record contains some glimpses of his potential, but for me it lacks a certain bite and conviction, qualities which were admittedly not slow in emerging on his second solo album. Here, though, things are strangely low-key and even hesitant.  Not a false start, but equally not altogether convincing.

Should we be surprised at how this record turned out, though? 1968 was a transitional year, in the direction of rock music, and in the cultural and political outlook of Western youth. Some of the tension, anxiety and uncertainty of the time is undoubtedly reflected in these songs.

It is easy to forget, too, that this was his first solo effort.  Previously, he had been part of bands. An unevenness is therefore not totally surprising, and it does merit attention as a period piece, and as the start of a wondrous journey. It is folly to try to look for a "pattern" in the man's career. As the world was to discover, Neil Young did not favour simple patterns or easy options, and this is one of the reasons why his body of work remains so important and absorbing.

Books About Music

In recent times I have got out of the habit of reading books about music, concentrating instead on history and fiction. However, the arrival of the New Year may persuade me to dust off some of the music-related titles on my shelves. Here are a few of my favourites.

One of the best reference works I have encountered is the fairly monumental AllMusic Guide To Rock, which summarizes the works of a huge diversity of rock, pop and soul artists, giving album ratings as well as brief reviews. Each act is also accorded a brief biography, and there is also an effort to summarize each genre and sub-genre. The sort of book in which to become happily immersed, both to rekindle old tastes and to develop new ones.

As far as scholarly works are concerned, Ian MacDonald's "Revolution In The Head" has a deservedly high reputation. Basically an analysis, song-by-song, of the music of The Beatles, cross-referenced with the social upheavals of the Sixties, it is a riveting read, and it fully merits the acclaim which it has been afforded.

Another Beatles-related book of some import is "The Complete Beatles Chronicle", written by Mark Lewisohn.  Meticulously researched, it basically lists, in chronological order and in remarkable detail, what the Fab Four were doing on each day during their career, whether it was a concert, a recording session, a radio show , a television appearance or something else. Lavishly illustrated, this is another engrossing read, and a reminder of just how frenetic the Beatles' schedule was, especially in the period 1962-1964.

Also well worth seeking out is "Waiting For The Sun", a chronicle of the Los Angeles music scene by Barney Hoskyns. It does not just concentrate on the "obvious" artists, but explores the development of various musical sub-cultures, the careers of influential people, and also the changing character of the music industry itself.

As far as biographies are concerned, Johnny Rogan's books out Neil Young and The Byrds are hugely comprehensive and enjoyable.  Recommended too are Philip Norman's book about The Rolling Stones, and Barney Hoskyns' work dealing with the story of The Band.

Dave Marsh's "The Heart Of Rock & Soul - The 1001 Greatest Singles Ever Made" is a strident and thought-provoking work, not for the faint-hearted, but impossible to put down once begun. It probably helped to jolt me out of some of my musical complacency and inertia, even if I didn't agree with all of the author's opinions.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do some reading....

Life's Soundtrack

Many of us, myself included, trace our existence via the music which we were listening to at various stages of our lives. This could either be a song which happened to be in the charts at a particular time, or tracks which for whatever reason have a certain resonance, reminding us of happy (or sad) times, or evoking our state of mind.

 

The first time that I can remember truly relating to songs, and seeing in them some semblance of inspiration or "meaning" was in my mid-to-late teens, when many different pressures and emotions conspire to give rise to a need to "belong", and find spiritual outlet, however imagined and superficial.

 

It makes me cringe now, but the first track which I, and my circle of friends, saw as a personal anthem, was "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi. This may have just been escapism or peer pressure, and the blue collar romanticism in the lyrics now makes me nauseous. My social and economic situation bore very little relation to the characters depicted in the song. "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" by Cutting Crew fulfilled a similar role, both at the time, and in retrospectively evoking a sense of time and place. This was clearly the naïve optimism of a confused seventeen or eighteen year old mind at work, although in some respects it was healthy that I was latching on to such harmless if shallow subject matter. It was preferable to existing in some vacuum.

From my late teens until my late twenties, my life fell into a torpor, and music served primarily as an agent to fill the void, but acting as a neutralizer, simply cancelling out a negative. I had by this time begun to explore the work of singer-songwriters such as Neil Young and Jackson Browne, but the impact of their lyrics was generally secondary in importance to the melodic invention and subtlety on display. I was looking to the sound to anaesthetize me, not the words or messages to inform me.

Of course, when one's outlook and circumstances alter, music which previously appeared relatively innocuous and distant can suddenly take on a major piquancy and relevance. This began to occur in my case about fifteen years ago. I often think that the more introspective songs of Jackson Browne (Farther On, Sky Blue and Black, Sleep's Dark And Silent Gate, The Pretender, Fountain of Sorrow, These Days) are speaking only to me, and that they could have been written to document the course of my life and my mental state over the past decade-and-a-half. I could say the same about a few of the compositions of Gene Clark. Once the seed is sown, and we are "convinced", it is difficult to dispel such notions, even when evidence to the contrary looms.

Is this just wishful thinking, and intellectual dishonesty, a desperate and misguided attempt to avoid dealing with one's demons (and confronting reality), by taking refuge in somebody else's sentiments and inner thoughts?

I make take a (retrospectively) jaundiced view of the musical preoccupations of my late teens and early adulthood, but in seeking to "intellectualize" and rationalise my latter-day inclinations, I may be subjecting myself once again to delusions, if of a different type this time.

Perhaps the "soundtrack" to our lives should concern itself less with finding "poignancy" and "meaning" in lyrics, and more with the sometimes overlooked  and unnoticed capacity of music (i.e. the sounds themselves) to sooth and uplift us spiritually. This path also entails less anguish and pretence than the other approach....

 

Singer-Songwriters

One of the joys and satisfactions of rock music is being able to follow, and identify with, the thought processes of the artist, and chart their growth (or regression), and the fluctuating course of their personal fortunes and attitudes. This is easier when one is dealing with singer-songwriters.

The "singer-songwriter" genre can arguably trace its roots back to Delta Blues, or even further back to the days of wandering minstrels and troubadours, and the early days of rock n roll saw the emergence of such figures as Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran. However, if we are thinking in terms of the modern "rock" scene then, like so many things, it began with Bob Dylan.

Not only did Dylan make it viable and credible for people to express themselves creatively entirely through their own compositions and ideas, but he also laid down many of the ground rules, by giving validity to the notion of such views and observations being poured out in a challenging and poetic way.

The mental stimulation in absorbing the work of singer-songwriters is to a large extent in the concentration of the thoughts and interests of one person. This is not really possible in the case of groups and bands, even those whose members write tunes prolifically, because the message is often confused and fragmented, reflecting the diverse personalities and outlooks of the people who make up the ensemble, and the compromises made in the creative process. With a single creative engine, the message can still be occasionally confused and contradictory, but leaves the listener safe in the knowledge that this is the psyche of a single individual, with all its idiosyncrasies and foibles.

Although there have been great singer-songwriters in more recent decades, the "genre" enjoyed a golden age in the period from the late 1960s through to the mid-1970s, on both sides of the Atlantic. Many of the foremost practitioners hailed from the folk movement, and folk's capacity for, and tradition of, storytelling and social conscience stood them in good stead in this new environment. Some of these figures achieved both critical acclaim and commercial success (Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne), while others had to be content with admiration from their peers, long-term influence or royalties from cover versions of their songs (Laura Nyro , Gene Clark, Tom Waits, Nick Drake.).

 

The zenith of the 70s singer-songwriter scene probably occurred around 1974, when several prominent artists released seminal works. Jackson Browne's "Late For The Sky", "No Other" by Gene Clark and Neil Young's "On The Beach" are just a few which instantly spring to mind. All different in their own ways, but each representing a kind of peak. "No Other" and "On The Beach" are arguably untypical of their architect's general output, and partly for this reason stand out all the more.

 

In the mid-1970s the lustre of the "confessional" and "introspective" genre faded. Most of what was there to be said had already been said, and the artists naturally began to branch out and explore fresh territory.  The social climate was also less conducive to what some regarded as self-indulgent navel-gazing.

 

The appeal, though, of the singer-songwriter has never really gone away. The 80s saw the likes of Suzanne Vega and Tracy Chapman achieve both artistic credibility and bounteous record sales, and people will always be receptive to the vulnerable and earnest person wielding a guitar, or sitting at a piano, pouring out angst, anger or regret.

 

Many of my most rewarding musical experiences of recent times have been in discovering the work of the great  singer-songwriters of the past;the likes of Fred Neil, David Ackles and Jackson C Frank. The work of such artists remains piquant and stimulating, and is well worth checking out.

 

Whatever the caprices of musical favour, the singer-songwriter, in whatever form he or she takes, will never disappear.

The Last Waltz

Whenever the subject of "greatest concert movie" or "best rock movie" comes up for discussion, it has become almost obligatory for Martin Scorsese's "The Last Waltz", a document of The Band's 1976 "farewell" performance, to be placed at the top, or the near the top, of the list.

The film is made up of The Band's performances of their own songs, and a series of guest appearances onstage by many of the musical luminaries of the time.  All this is interspersed with interviews, conducted by Scorsese himself, with the members of the Band, in which they provide recollections of their years on the road.

Although I feel that some of the praise lavished on "The Last Waltz" has been a touch excessive, it is still an affecting and rather poignant picture, being seen by many as signifying, or symbolizing, the close of the "classic rock" era.

The first song in the movie, "Don't Do It", was actually done as an encore, but it was an astute choice as the film's opener, as it helps to illustrate what The Band was all about, and where they came from. It is probably fair to say that The Band had passed their peak as a live act at that point, but they definitely rose to the occasion here.

As with The Band, some of the guest artists had also seen better days creatively, but Scorsese's affinity for music, and his abilities as a film-maker, enable him to capture much of the essence of the 1970s rock scene. Many of those artists had some connection with The Band, having influenced them, collaborated with them, or just been friends. They encompassed every genre and sub-genre which made up The Band's appetising musical stew - rock n roll, blues, country, gospel, soul, folk, even Tin Pan Alley.

The interview segments are highly entertaining, with many colourful anecdotes from the group's varied career. The "between song" banter is often loosely connected with the guest artist whose performance immediately follows. This helps to ensure that "The Last Waltz" is not just a routine run through a series of songs. It is also educational, informative and evocative of a lost time.

It is interesting to note that many of the most memorable performances in "The Last Waltz" come from the supposedly less "exalted" guest stars. Ronnie Hawkins and Dr John both exude charisma, but in an endearingly old-fashioned, unpretentious manner, in contrast to some of the precious mainstream rock stars.

The let-down for me is the Neil Young segment. I have always felt that "Helpless" is quite a mediocre, listless and irritating song, and it seems a poor choice in this particular context. especially when he had plenty of great, more exciting and dynamic songs to choose from.

On the other hand, Van Morrison is quite mesmeric, resplendent in purple, giving an exuberant and animated performance of the wonderful "Caravan".  There was a musical empathy between The Band and Van, and this may have been the secret to the magic here.

It is noticeable how much The Band enjoyed and relished playing other people's songs, and performing alongside musicians who they respected or revered, and these sentiments appear to have been heartily reciprocated. The blues-orientated acts (Muddy Waters, Paul Butterfield, Eric Clapton) also worked very well in this environment, again perhaps hinting at a special rapport with The Band and their ethos, which stressed feel and soul over virtuosity. 

When reviewing the Band's "solo" performances here, the powerful and heartfelt rendering of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is the highlight - a song which seemed more effective onstage than on record.  It is also interesting to note the pre-eminence of Levon Helm in the vocal department throughout, arguably reflecting the power-shift within the group as the 1970s progressed.

The beautiful lighting and camerawork assist in engendering a particular atmosphere in this movie, to the extent that the setting sometimes feels less "rock and roll" than retro Hollywood. A couple of numbers (featuring the Staple Singers and Emmylou Harris) were recorded separately in a "studio" setting.

With repeated viewing and analysis, the musical performances in "The Last Waltz" become slightly less dazzling, but as a snapshot of an era in music, and of the fondness with which a magical group was regarded by its peers, this is great viewing.

Harvest - Neil Young - album review

Of the albums released by Neil Young during his golden period of the late 60s and 70s, Harvest is perhaps one of those whose reputation has diminished slightly with the passage of time.  Its huge commercial success, and that of the single "Heart of Gold", seemingly prompted the singer-songwriter himself to explore new and more edgy territory in the ensuing years.  I suspect that many people's introduction to the music of Neil Young comes via Harvest.  It is a satisfying but relatively undemanding initiation.

Over my many years of listening to Harvest, I had gradually persuaded myself that it was a curious mish-mash, comprising country-rock, singer-songwriter angst aplenty, and a couple of orchestral-backed numbers.  Authentic Young classics cheek-by-jowl with some decidedly enigmatic fare, it increasingly seemed to me....

Just recently, and for the first time in a while, I listened to the album in its entirety, and it once again began to make sense, as a credible entity.

A few of the country-orientated songs, including the title track, are relatively prosaic, if undeniably pleasing to the ear. Whether it was the musical sterility, the lack of adventure lyrically, or the constraints imposed by fame and success,  which led Neil to visit new pastures, is not totally unclear; possibly a combination of all those factors. At any rate, the momentous fruits of this detour would justify it, both for the artist and the listener.

As has been said, Harvest is often the first album encountered by the Neil Young neophyte.  And it may be that many of those people imagine that the whole of the Canadian's catalogue is similarly "nice".  Little do they know what things lurk in that canon.  You either recoil in shock, or embrace his extraordinary body of work.  To my eternal joy, I did the latter!

For all of Harvest's image as a laid-back and mellow work, there are some genuinely affecting songs. "The Needle And The Damage Done" is harrowing and chilling, and the rendering here is quite mesmeric. "Heart of Gold", for all its familiarity and over-exposure, is a superbly crafted and warm song.  More focused than most of the songs on this album, and not without its pleasing touches melodically.  "Alabama" appeared to take up where "Southern Man" had left off.

The opening track, "Out On The Weekend", sets the tone, with its almost supine rhythm, accentuated by a harmonica part, and some lugubrious words.  The almost soporific tone is evident in other areas of the album, both the piano work and the pedal steel contributing to this.

Perhaps the most contentious aspect of the track listing was the decision to include "A Man Needs A Maid" and "There's A World".  My experience is that the more one listens to the album, the less out-of-place and grating these songs feel. They certainly help to provide some relief from the relentless diet of country-rock material. Theories as to why these tracks were included:

1. Intentionally, to inject some variety.
2. They helped to alleviate a shortage of songs (unlikely, with the prolific Neil)
3.  Just Neil Young being Neil Young!

In some ways the most interesting track on Harvest is "Words (Between Lines of Age)", which contains elements of both the artist's previous work, and what was to come in the later 1970s.  Whether this is symbolic of a lack of direction at that time is open to debate. 

Some have criticised Harvest for its alleged musical conservatism, following some already prevalent trends in North American rock. Yes, it has its weaknesses, and yes it may pale against the more "substantial" material which the great man was to create in the years which immediately followed, but by the standards of most people this is a very fine album indeed. 

After The Gold Rush - Neil Young - album review

After recently writing blog posts about two of Neil Young's classic 1970s albums, I thought that I would take a look at the Canadian singer-songwriter's first effort of the decade, After The Gold Rush.

Commonly cited as Young's quintessential "singer-songwriter" LP, it is in fact quite a diverse and varied piece of work, containing many of the elements which have made his career so enduringly fascinating and unpredictable.

The album opens with "Tell Me Why", which contains ingredients from both Young's troubadour days, and also the style of Crosby Stills and Nash, with whom he had recently been collaborating when this was recorded. The vocal harmonies here are fragile and airy, and somewhat unique in flavour to After The Gold Rush.

The title track follows, and is one of those songs which was very much in keeping with the tenor of its time, hinting at apocalypse and subsequent rebirth.  Similar themes to Jackson Browne's "For Everyman" and "Wooden Ships" by CSN.

It is fair to say that many of the stronger compositions on this album are packed in at the start, and this is maintained with "Only Love Can Break Your Heart", which has become almost a standard because of many renditions by other artists. This original drifts by without drawing that much attention to itself, and is quite difficult to categorise and define, so I won't bother trying!

The track which aroused most discussion and debate was "Southern Man".  Apart from its socio-political message, this is a very powerful track musically, with perhaps the last major outing on record for some time of Young's idiosyncratic, brittle and meandering guitar style.  The piano-playing on this song is also sometimes forgotten, adding depth and helping to drive the melody along.

It has to be said that the remaining tracks are a mixed bag, two of them being brief and rather whimsical items, "Till The Morning Comes" and "Cripple Creek Ferry".  These, together with the perfunctory and incongruous cover of Don Gibson's "Oh Lonesome" Me, tend to belie the reputation of After The Gold Rush as a classic of its kind.  Whether Young was short on genuinely strong material around this time, it can only be speculated. Of course, some of his superior creations were being diverted to CSNY, and other projects.

These weaker links are balanced out by some memorable and beautiful moments towards the close of the album. "Birds" and "I Believe in You" are far from the most popularly revered songs here, but they both have charm and finesse, and have not suffered from the over-familiarity associated with the earlier "marquee" numbers. Again, piano is used to considerable effect on both of these songs.

After The Gold Rush is something of a hinge in this phase of Neil Young's journey, having a character of its own, but still showing the legacy of his early albums, and paving the way for the more "commercial" period, albeit relatively brief, on which he was about to embark.

Whilst there are some strong songs, and an appealing "organic" and sparse feel throughout, it has possibly been slightly over-rated. This was one of the first Neil Young albums which I listened to, and I judged it before exploring other areas of his catalogue. Once I had been exposed to Tonight's The Night and On The Beach, After the Gold Rush began to sound much tamer and anodyne; almost, but not quite, a case of treading water.

So even if the passage of time, and repeated exposure, dulls its impact, and makes it appear ever so slightly sterile, After The Gold Rush is still a great listen.

On The Beach - Neil Young - album review

Just recently, I blogged about Neil Young's classic 1975 album, Tonight's The Night:

Tonight's The Night - Neil Young


Habitually, another album is tied together with Tonight's The Night as representing a particular stage in the singer-songwriter's career. That album is On The Beach:

It is indeed tempting to lump these two albums together, but I think that this a simplistic way of looking at things. They are markedly dissimilar in musical terms, and the mood is subtly but importantly different.

For me, On The Beach has a certain automony within the Neil Young body of work, operating outside the frameworks of most of his other albums of that era. It is illustrative of his urge to continue his restless musical and philosophical journey, rather than rely on old formulae.

Whereas Tonight's The Night, which was recorded first, had a semblance of a common thread musically, On The Beach is quite diverse, and the palette is expanded to include relatively unusual instruments, such as electric piano, banjo and fiddle.  There is none of the redeeming jauntiness of whimsical bluesiness.  These songs are more brutal, and unsettling.  The fact that the songs are all "self-contained" adds to their potency.

On The Beach has an undercurrent of resignation and quiet despair, and there are lyrical references, oblique and otherwise, to Watergate and counter-cultural neuroses of the time. This is combined with examinations of the paths and lifestyles of the artist and his contemporaries.  A very apt document of its times, in many ways.

The stand out-tracks are "Revolution Blues", with its sinister and disturbing lyrics, the deceptive and under-estimated title track, and the closer "Ambulance Blues".  The latter is one of Young's real gems, harking back almost to his folk-troubadour days.

On The Beach was unavailable on CD for many years, and this helped to generate an air of mystique around it.  Whilst the reality could not really hope to match the mystique, it is a unique album, and one of Neil Young's most important releases.

Tonight's The Night - Neil Young - album review

Every so often, artists or groups opt to take what is perceived as a diversion in their career path, but sometimes this is quite calculating, and intended merely to enhance their degree of "hipness" and mainstream success.

In the case of Neil Young, following the colossal success of 1972's Harvest, he deliberately took a detour, not for any other reason but to explore new territory and escape the treadmill.  Perhaps the most authentic and compelling product of that decision was Tonight's The Night, recorded mostly in 1973, but not released until 1975.

In addition to a conscious desire to defy stagnation and convention, the music which Neil Young wrote and recorded around this time also clearly addresses the fall-out from the era just past, and its impact on rock culture. The deaths of Crazy Horse guitarist Danny Whitten and roadie Bruce Berry cast a shadow over this album in particular.

Throughout Tonight's The Night, the arrangements and performances are ragged and almost disjointed, contrasting sharply with much of the singer-songwriter's previous work.  As well as signifying an intentional stylistic departure, the basic bluesy approach perfectly complements the lyrical subject matter.

The instrumental hallmarks of the album are also fundamental to its artistic success.  Nils Lofgren's brittle but superbly evocative guitar work is often to the fore, as is the weeping pedal steel guitar of Ben Keith.  The latter, and Young's harmonica are, essential to the subdued mood of several tracks.  These element are supported by the redoubtable Crazy Horse rhythm section.

Neil Young's vocals are as ragged as the backing tracks, sloppy and haphazard, or more accurately perhaps a natural consequence of the turmoil contained in the words of the songs themselves. The croakier, harsher Young voice proves perfectly expressive here, and in keeping with the uncompromising central thrust of the work.  It is safe to assume that very few overdubs were performed during the sessions.  What would normally be seen as mistakes and blemishes were left in....

Despite the melancholy and often rancorous vibes, there is kind of nobility and defiance about Tonight's The Night, which for me is central to its appeal - a "ragged glory", to borrow from one of Neil's later album titles.  Some of the dark humour contained in the lyrics helps to encourage this feeling.

Three of the tracks, "Mellow My Mind", "Albuquerque" and "Tired Eyes", are quite similar in style and melody and, astutely separated, constitute the emotional backbone of the album, together with the bookends of the title track and its reprise.

For the unwary I would expect that Tonight's The Night is an awkward listen at first, and in this and other respects there are parallels with the Stones' Exile On Main Street.  However, as a snapshot of an artist's state of mind, and as a slice of raw emotional candour, this album has few equals in rock music.

Nick Drake

I spent some time with my older brother over Christmas, and the discussion got around to how our respective musical tastes began to diverge as our teenaged years progressed, and we drifted into adulthood. I chuckled when I reflected how I would deride my brother's preferences, but also admitted that I had eventually grown to like and respect much of the music to which he had listened, albeit over two decades later!

One of the artists falling into the above category was Nick Drake.  I distinctly recall my brother coming home, clutching those vinyl albums. I did not pay any great attention to the music, and rather arrogantly dismissed it as part of an introspective phase on my brother's part, or an attempt to appear "hip" with his friends. There is a temptation at that age to question the motives of siblings, rejecting any notion that something may actually interest them for purely intrinsic or aesthetic reasons.

Well, two decades passed, and I did finally "find" Nick Drake, via a more circuitous route than my brother had taken.  In my twenties and thirties I listened to lots of folk-rock and country-rock, and this led me on to singer-songwriters (Jackson Browne, Neil Young, Gene Clark), and then on to the British exponents of that genre, prominent among them being Drake.

On revisiting the three original studio albums, one thing which struck me is the "pastoral" feel, and also the ease with which one can be carried along by the deceptively complex melodies, and having to re-trace one's steps in order to fully take in the lyrics.  The foremost emotion which came to me, though, was "why haven't I been listening to this stuff for the past twenty-odd years?"

The album which appeals to me most overall is Five Leaves Left, with its relatively sparse but subtle arrangements, and varied lyrical themes. Acoustic guitar forms the bedrock of most of the songs here, but other instrumentation is tastefully added to provide texture and depth.  The nuances and charm of the songs and melodies are gradually revealed with repeated listening.  There is also an almost otherworldly, ethereal feel to some of the tracks, particularly "River Man","Day Is Done" and "Thoughts of Mary Jane".

Lyrically, Five Leaves Left comes across as a mixture of the observational and the introspective, and the listener feels like he or she is being transported to a particular place and time, and also a distinct stage in the songwriter's life. While some of the compositions on this album may initially come across as quite bleak, closer scrutiny uncovers some joy, wonder, awe and optimism.

The Drake album which I suspect divides opinion most clearly, and is also the most troublesome to analyse, is 1970's Bryter Layter.  More experimental and inpenetrable than the debut, with a discernible jazz-like feel in places, the songs alternate between the dreamy and the melancholy. Oddly, there are a couple of instrumental tracks.  I know that the arrangements on this album can have a polarizing effect, but I find it fascinating to hear these lyrics shrouded in such an unusual, even incongruous, sonic mist.

Pink Moon, the final studio album, is possibly the least melodically diverse of the three, and features none of the augmentation by strings and woodwind instruments.  This absence of such embellishments can make the album sound bleak, but also intimate. Drake's distinctive guitar work is projected more keenly, and the sense of intimacy is enhanced by the gritty sound of it, as well as the vocals.  Pink Moon has a much more seamless and spontaneous vibe to it than the other material, reflecting the manner and circumstances in which it was recorded.  None of the songs particularly stand out - the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

So, there we have it, a small but impressive and varied body of work.  Stylistically, Five Leaves Left stands betwixt the other two LPs, but I sense that there was no calculated career path.  The individual albums simply reflect the time and place being inhabited by Nick Drake when they were written and recorded. This is often the case with "singer songwriters".

For those who admire sensitive and literate music, Nick Drake's work is a must.  I just hope that other people don't, like me, take twenty years or more to fully embrace it!

Big Star

Around 1994/95, I began to purchase the "serious" music magazines, and I continually read about an American group called Big Star, who it seemed had released a couple of seminal albums in the 1970s, and who were being cited as an influence by artists on both sides of the Atlantic. They, so the articles and reviews informed me, had also inspired many American "alternative" and underground bands of the 1980s.

Well, as my musical palette was beginning to expand during that time, I checked out Big Star's music, after finding that their first two albums, "#1 Record" and "Radio City", were available together on one CD.  Having listened, my initial impressions were "pleasant enough, a few catchy songs, nice harmonies", but nothing more than that. Big Star were filed away in my mind as a good group, but they were half-forgotten as my musical attentions were drawn elsewhere.

It was only very recently that Big Star re-appeared on my radar, and almost by accident, as I heard one of their best-known tracks on an internet radio station. This prompted me to go back and re-evaluate those first two albums.

Well, maybe my musical instincts and antennae have become keener and more discerning in the intervening period, but I was struck by how much I had initially under-rated Big Star. I now appreciate how important they were, and why they are recalled with such fondness by so many people.

The music is more diverse and hard-edged than I had remembered it, with the emphasis on Power Pop, rather than just pretty harmonies. The remastered versions which I have been listening to evidently accentuated some of the nuances.

Whilst Big Star were themselves hugely influential, it is worth examining from which artists and musical styles they derived their own inspiration. The conventional wisdom has been that their music was in many ways similar to The Byrds and some of the pioneering US power-pop combos. However, I detect major signs of The Who in their songs, melodically as well as in the vocal harmonies and "clanging" guitar sound. A healthy dash of Stonesy swagger is also evident at times. In the slower acoustic numbers there are distinct echoes of Gene Clark and Neil Young.

The lyrics straddle the line between youthful innocence and self-consciousness, but thankfully never becoming fully immersed in either.  Innocent and simple at times, but equally intelligent and thoughtful.

Big Star's songs tend to be compact and concise three or four minute affairs, more often than not effortlessly tuneful. The word "songcraft" could almost have been invented to describe their work. A few of their melodies owe a lot to the girl-group/Brill Building pop of the early 1960s.

One of the things which I have noticed in my revisit of Big Star is how technically intricate some of the guitar playing is. Similar in sound to The Byrds and The Who, but tending to be more complex and elaborate. Some pleasing acoustic picking is also on display.

Those first two albums contain few genuinely weak songs, but the stand-out tracks are probably "In The Street", "Thirteen", "O My Soul" and "September Gurls". In particular, "In The Street", with its punchy melody, angelic harmonies and hypnotic guitar lines, is a minor classic of its type.

So, given that so many observers wax lyrical about Big Star, and their early offerings, why did they not achieve more commercial popularity and recognition in the early to mid 1970s?  Plain bad luck may partially explain it. However, my own theory, for what it's worth, is that they were "a band out of time", and simply did not fit in to any of the convenient pigeon-holes of the prevailing musical genres of the era.

Big Star could not be accurately described as glam rock, prog rock, or mainstream album rock. If anything, their sound has more in common with some of the American punk artists who came along not long afterwards. They unluckily fell into the gap of having a retro sound, but also being ahead of their time in some respects (their music presaged the New Wave music which emerged in the aftermath of punk).

For anyone who appreciates true pop craftsmanship, and the pure joy of guitars and vocal harmonies, "#1 Record" and "Radio City" are essential listening. They are very difficult to dislike.