Neil Young - Neil Young
Neil's first solo outing after his three records with the Buffalo Springfield, The Loner is the only track that has proven to be immortalized, which is unfortunate as it is only one of many strong songs on here. The most consistent thing about this album is the strength of the melodies-- not one of them is a clunker and the majority is likely among Neil's strongest ever:
The first track, The Emperor of Wyoming, is a pleasant country-tinged instrumental that grows rapidly on the listener. It is a catchy melody and one of the most upbeat and completely happy-sounding things Neil has ever penned. Not so much a gem as it is an unjustly neglected trinket, Emperor gives gives the album a characteristic quirky edge right off the bat, being absolutely nothing like what follows.
The Loner is by far the most well known song on the album and one of Neil's strongest rockers, with a driving melody and some of his most intense and brilliant lyrics ever, centered on themes of isolation and loneliness. I've loved this song since I first heard it and am delighted that it now sounds better than ever, the awesomely powerful rhythm section rocking harder than a sailboat caught in a storm at sea while Neil's guitar bursts through the melee with new crispness. (Needless to say, the people behind the restoration did a good job.) Continuing one of Neil's most effective album sequences, we segue into If I Could Have Her Tonight. Once again, the remastering job has done wonders-- I've always thought that musically it's near-perfect pop but for the first time, I'm aware of just how underrated this short song is. It's a direct and emotional story of romantic yearning, told in the eminently relatable manner it seems only Neil can effect-- the listener is completely convinced that everything being sung is real, that's it's based on true events. I've Been Waiting for You is even better, an absolute work of art by an artist in a determined search for the love. While the rhythm section (highlighted by George Grantham's excellent drumming) propels this second heavy rocker, a swirling mist of keyboards and guitars wraps itself around the listener, steadily building through the verses as the desire is expounded upon, building to a crescendo at the chorus as the artist's fantasy of meeting his greatest love is envisaged. Young's guitar soars once again during the instrumental break with an epic passionate solo.
Ending out a superb side one is The Old Laughing Lady, a rambling song about vice. Musically, it is a deceptively gentle, lulling ballad. Lyrically, it is as restless, conflicted, and mournful as most of the songs on here. Verses one, two, and four are especially excellent, particularly with the line "you can't have a cupboard if there ain't no wall", whereas verse three ("see the drunkard of the village') states the theme almost too literally and directly as compared to the subtlety and poeticism of those around it. The song has one of the album's more complex arrangements, with intricate string sections by co-producer Jack Nitzche (who also produced Neil's Expecting to Fly on Buffalo Springfield Again) and backing vocals from several female soul singers, apparently signifying the titular character. The number ends with a hypnotic repetition of notes as the Old Laughing Lady does her thing...
The String Quartet from Whiskey Boot Hill and Here We are in the Years act as a sort of suite. String Quartet was written by Nitzche. In another context, I think I'd really enjoy this but here, it's the least interesting track in sight. Still, with its quaintness and tranquil tone, it leads well into Here we Are in the Years-- which has really grown on me over the years that I've listened to it. Them most interesting thing about it is that it features almost no repetition of melody. It coasts from tune to tune at mid-tempo carried by atmospheric piano as Neil atmospherically describes the beauties of the countryside and laments the fact that it seems that some are working to destroy it, one bit at a time. One of my favorite Neil Young lyrics can be found here: "Time itself is bought and sold. Spreading fear of growing old contains a thousand foolish games that we play"--so completely true and so well-stated.
The next two songs also seem to go together: What Did You Do to My Life? and I've Loved Her So long. The former, another mid-tempo, also seems connected to I've Been Waiting for You, showing the flip side of that scenario with an equally infectious melody and unique, electronically-based arrangement. The lyrics again are brilliant. I quote one of my favorites, from the chorus, in my title: "I don't care if all of the mountains turn to dust in the air", with a buzzing synthesizer portending this disaster. Neil's vocal as he demands, "What did you do to my life?" behind these words is equally haunting. I've Loved Her So Long, by contrast, is an impassioned slow balled for a lost partner--not haunting so much as melancholy. Melody and lyrics are uniformly strong, with Jim Messina providing a particularly strong bass line and the refrain especially memorable. The song's one possible weakness is a slightly overwrought reappearance of the choir from Old Laughing Lady, effective in the background of the verses but just a little to close to wailing at some spots in the chorus, Nitzche apparently trying to turn it into a '50s soul record, which works to some degree but not entirely. There is an acoustic performance of this song which is just as good, if not better, on Live at the River Boat from Archives 1. In both cases Neil's passion for the song and for his lover--even though she has left him--come through.
The final track, The Last Trip to Tulsa, is nine and 1/2 minute opus that could itself be the subject of an entire review. It is unique among Neil's other long numbers in that it features only he and and he accompanies himself on only the acoustic guitar. The result is a unique, great-sounding song, especially with the great remastering job here. The melody remains the same, but varies compellingly throughout from a serenely relaxed, almost meditative tempo to desperate agitation, with Neil hitting the strings so hard at some points, you're surprised not to hear one snap off. The lyrics are completely bizarre: great imagery but nonsensical for the most part. The narrative is semi-coherent, moving between waking and sleeping, as well a dead and living, states throughout. During the sleeping portions, the songs seems like a collection of a night's worth of dreams-- brief and not at all related to one and other. There are some interesting passages that one suspects may just hold deeper meaning. For one, I wonder whether the "Two men eating pennies" mightn't be Charles Green and Brian Stone, the managers of the Springfield, with whom Neil did not get on very well. They are apparently strong businessmen if nothing else. This fits in with the autobiographical nature of some of the other verses: "I used to be a folk singer..."
There is also the priest who, in the absence of his congregation, would rather not "play the fool", a clear blow at hypocrisy and the lack of integrity all-too-often present in leaders.
Then there is the "death section": the narrator dies after being shot through the nose with an arrow by a Native American and then somehow comes back to life at some point during or just after examination by an apparently friendly coroner. Some have read racial meanings into the manner of death. Most likely, however, Neil, who has for years been fascinated by Native American culture, was examining the duality he often found in himself. He may also have been bemoaning racial disharmony of the day. The connection isn't all that improbable when one considers this was the age of Martin Luther King Jr., and the African-American equality movement.
Whatever the case may be, after some further bizarre but captivating ramblings about, among other things, a brilliantly nightmarish filling station with yellow servicemen and green fuel and opening up a person's mind (with the great line, "if you guarantee the postage, I'll mail you back the key"), Neil summarizes the whole thing by saying all of this happened on "my last trip to Tulsa, just before the snow." This is just a guess, and it certainly doesn't explain why he chose Tulsa, OK, but when talking about this particular place the narrator apparently goes to regularly, Neil may have been speaking of the mental state that forces an artist to create, that part of their mind all creative people have that feeds them ideas and from whence all of these vignettes were conjured. That would certainly explain where all the bizarre images come from.
The song, and album, end on one of Neil's more memorable verses, as insant karma is exercised when a friend won't help chop down a palm tree the narrator's been working on "for 87 years" and the tree lands on his back when finally cut down, presumably killing him. It's cold; sardonic; ironic; and completely Neil, and also a great, if random, note to end the album on.
