Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 10 - Odeon Budokan (1976)

Reprise Records: 2020

What a strange way to end Archives, Vol. 2. True, nothing could beat the triumphant cap of Vol. 1 that included all the chart-topping and critically lauded Harvest material, but a live album? And not just a live album, but recordings from overseas shows in London and Tokyo? I guess in keeping with the 'three Performance Series per Archives' theme, we'd get one exclusive to the box-set like Live At The Riverboat. This wasn't separately released prior, and I see no official plans to do so after.

If the timeline is to be believed, these shows were performed after Neil had joined Stephen Stills in Miami for their Stills-Young Band sessions, but before abandoning Crazy Horse to tour with Stephen instead. So in the course of a couple months, ol' Shakey had travelled from California, to Florida, to Japan, to the U.K. and back to Florida. Long may you run indeed, but not if you're gonna' burn both ends while burning your friends along the way.

As this disc is a cobble-lation of two shows performed literally half a world apart, it's appropriately broken up between the two. Oddly, they're not in chronological order, the London shows first, followed by the Tokyo jams after. My only assumption here is Odeon Budokan wants to recapture the same sequencing as Rust Never Sleeps, acoustic numbers opening the LP, then closing out with Crazy Horse 'rawkers'. To be fair, that's how Neil's concerts with Crazy Horse went regardless, I just have no idea why all the acoustic material comes from Odeon, and all the rock from Budokan. Just a happenstance of where the better recordings were?

So the acoustic set has some familiar tunes (Old Man, The Old Laughing Lady, After The Goldrush ...I'm honestly quite burnt out hearing that one on these live albums), plus a couple then-unreleased songs in Too Far Gone and Stringman. What's funny about these is you can really tell the unfamiliarity of them with the London crowd. Exuberant cheers upon hearing the first notes of the recognizable songs, then almost dead silence with the other two, save a polite applause after they're finished. Considering they wouldn't be officially released until way later, I'm sure Neil got a kick out of confusing the casuals in the crowd with them.

I'm not sure how familiar the Japanese crowd was with the freshly released Zuma record either, but they seemed to enjoy the rowdy rockers just the same. They also get a version of Cowgirl In The Sand, which isn't quite up to the epic outing as heard on Live At The Fillmore East, nor as tight as heard in later live albums with Crazy Horse. It was Frank Sampedro's earliest concerts with the group though, so just needed a little more time to fully mesh. Either that, or this was one of the supposed shows he'd taken acid at. Oh, hippie-rockers, never change.

And that's a wrap on Archives, Vol. 2! Join me again for Archives, Vol. 3, due for release ...whenever it gets released, I guess.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 8 - Dume (1975)

Reprise Records: 2020

So I thought I would be skipping this disc as well. I mean, just look at the cover art: it's basically Zuma all over again, and indeed, eight of that album's nine songs appear on here. Yet that's only half of the musical content contained within, the rest versions of songs that wouldn't be heard in LP form until at least Rust Never Sleeps. And even then, we get different versions here, so wholly unique items exclusive to Archives, Vol. 2. Welp, guess that settles that.

If you've been keeping up with your handy-dandy Neil Young time-line mega-diary, you'd know this was about the point where his long-time backing band of Crazy Horse finally found themselves a worthy successor to the fallen Danny Whitten. Like, don't get me wrong, Nils Lofgren was a fine stand-in for the time he was there, but the musical wonderkid was a bit too talented to be playing rhythm guitar in an unabashed, undeniably average garage rock band.

Frank “Poncho” Sampedro, however, fit perfectly snug into the roll, in large part to already being a massive fan of the group's '60s work with Neil. Intimately familiar with their classics such that he could easily jam away with Billy Talbot and Ralph Molina, all he had to do was prove himself to the mighty Young as well, which he done did while the boys partied the nights away in Malibu. Guess that's why Archives has titled this disc Dume, the name of the other cove and beach in that region. The more famous one, of course, being Zuma Beach. What, did you think the 1975 album was titled that because of something Aztecan related? Haha, who'd ever think that? *cough*

Seriously though, such a connection to Aztecs and Incans makes sense, what with Neil going off on about mystical danger birds and killer conquistadors. He may have felt a full album of such material would have been overkill though, so songs like Ride My Llama and Pocahontas got the axe in favour of more tunes about break-ups like Don't Cry No Tears and Stupid Girl. I don't know what's crazier though: that such songs wouldn't officially appear again for several years, and then only as folk versions, or that Powderfinger wouldn't either. Okay, so it wouldn't have fit on Zuma, but couldn't it have been rescued for American Stars 'n Bars? Decade? Heck, Comes A Time, if nothing else but for the LOLs?

Supposedly, such songs may have ended up on another of Neil's tantalizing lost albums, Chrome Dreams. Makes sense, between this and material in the next disc in Archives, Vol. 2 having plenty 'nuff for another LP. T'was not to be though, thus wonderful songs like Hawaii, Born To Run, Kansas, and Too Far Gone would go unheard for decades (save the odd concert bootleg). Man, guess Rusties should be thankful Ride My Llama, Pocahontas and Powderfinger only took a 'brief' half-decade to appear on Rust Never Sleeps.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Zuma

Reprise Records: 1975

Sometimes the best way to get out of a depressive funk is to abandon one group of music buddies, reconvene with another group of music buddies, and hang out on the beaches of Malibu getting all up in that mid-'70s bachelor life. Lots of booze, lots of 'rawk', probably some drugs too, though none of that super-heavy shit that had been going around, leading to too many deaths of colleagues. Or maybe a little on the psychedelic bent, Zuma marking the point where Neil Young started singing about ancient Aztec and Incan lore, the sort of stuff one can't help but be inspired by after ingesting a little psilocybin. Me, I just go and listen to every album I own in alphabetical order, but if writing music about Cortez the killer and mythical lady-birds is what does it for you, have at it, guy.

Weird inspirations aside, one of the reasons Zuma came to fruition is Young's old band Crazy Horse had found themselves a new guitarist after the passing of Danny Whitten. It'd only been a few years since then, but in Neil Young terms, that's practically a lifetime, a whole stage of his career cycled through. Insisting he come and check out the dude's chops on the axe (or however you say it), Mr. Young was impressed at how well he could perform both lead and rhythm guitar parts on such classic Crazy Horse collaborations like Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River.

That's because this here Frank Sampedro was a huge fan of the group, often jamming away on his own to the album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. So much so, in fact, that ol' “Pedro” joked he'd probably played those songs more than Young and Whitten ever had. Feeling that familiar fire that made their earlier works such kinetic monuments to classic rock, The Young & The Restless Horse hit the studio with the same carefree approach as before, cranking out tunes about blue barstools, stupid girls, and other love-lorn chestnuts.

Aside from Cortez The Killer though (sounding kinda' short to my ears at seven-and-a half minutes, since I'm used to the live Weld version), Zuma doesn't have much in the way of classic Young material. Some good, solid rock music, for sure, a few tunes of which are little more than excuses for the band to just go off while bemoaning past relationships (as I said, a total bachelor fest). There's also Danger Bird, the closest thing to a companion piece to Cortez The Killer in its epic sense of scope, though it doesn't reach the seven minute mark, nor has been trotted out for live sessions as often, so it's unsurprising the song goes overlooked in the annals of Young et Cheval de Fou music.

Which is Zuma in a nutshell. The players involved were basically rediscovering their synergy with this outing, and would create greater works together after this.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Weld

Reprise Records: 1991

Considering the plethora of live albums Neil Young's Archives series has churned out this past decade, its difficult remembering such things were once rarities. For sure many of his albums would contain live recordings of new material, but a full live set of concert material? It wasn't until Live Rust, a companion piece to the Rust Never Sleeps tour extravaganza, that a true concert recording in conceptual full was made available for sale. Fast forward through most of the '80s that many Rusties demote as a 'lost decade', and we're right back in full rock 'n' roll glory with his Craziest of Horse pals in Ragged Glory, a raucous tour to back it up, and finally his second official live album unleashed from it.

Ol' Shakey didn't set out to prove he could stand toe-to-toe with those new, noisy 'grunge' kids, but Weld sure done does that. Unlike Live Rust, there's not a lick of acoustic music throughout the double-disc feature. Only downtime comes care of a cover of Bob Dylan's folksy ditty Blowin' In The Wind, stretched out here to nearly seven minutes, with huge walls of guitar feedback, wartime sound effects, and lovely Crazy Horse harmonies. I suppose some of Young's slower tunes might count for 'chill' music, like the bluesy Tonight's The Night, and the guitar epic Cortez The Killer, but ain't nothing calm or soothing about Neil's pained howls and cutting lyrics, much less those extended solos.

Oh yeah, you better love yourself some lengthy guitar jamming if you're interested in this live album. Absolutely you get the classics like Like A Hurricane and Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black), but as this tour was in support of Ragged Glory, most of that album's extended songs show up here too. Sweet deal for me, as they're my favourite tunes from that record! The steady burner Love To Burn, the cock-rockin' F*!#in' Up, the unabashed solo-excusing Love And Only Love, the hilariously sloppy Farmer Jon, and my guilty pleasure Mansion On A Hill. Whenever I hear this song, it instantly takes me back to early Shambhala sentiments, the lyrics eerily on point in reflecting my mind-space at the time (probably didn't hurt I was also succumbing to the Rustie Bug too).

Anything else? How about some good ol' rockin' out with over nine minutes of Rockin' In The Free World? Or solid common-clay story-telling with Powerderfinger and Crime In The City? A couple throwback jams with Cinnamon Girl and Roll Another Number (For The Road)? Okay, maybe not that one, but it's a charming tune to end a concert on. Drive safe, y'all.

Weld is pretty much wall-to-wall guitar glory, performed by a bunch of middle-aged men who were inspiring all the youngin's of rock's new '90s world (Sonic Youth opened for them on this tour). And hey, if we didn't get Weld, then Young wouldn't have wrecked his hearing so bad that he was forced to follow it with another classic in Harvest Moon.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Sleeps With Angels

Reprise Records: 1994

Sleeps With Angels is one of the best albums Neil Young and his Crazy Horse ever put out, yet hardly gets mentioned in discussion. True, some of their other records had more impact on rock’s landscape – no one's taking away classics like Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Rust Never Sleeps. This one though, note for note, chord for chord, guitar for piano, drum for flute, distortion for melody, Sleeps With Angels is a beautiful album. Not because it paints a pretty picture, oh no! These are some incredibly bleak songs, topics of death, decay, and depression all presented in as grungy a way as blues rock can go. There's something captivating about all this misery though, like scenes out of an art-house film without the pretentious waffle that comes with it.

For instance, the criminally overlooked song Driveby, which deals with drive-by shootings and the tragedy they so often create. Young doesn't preach, laying out one senseless scenario after the other, the music he and Crazy Horse provide marching at a sombrely pace as though they're funeral pall-bearers. Their harmonized chorus, simply the title of the track, is such a heart-breaker, you wonder if the band themselves suffered a drive-by death in the family.

And so much of Sleeps With Angels is like this. Prime Of Life details the insidious nature of tabloid magazines ruining the Royal Family, the titular cut touches on Kurt Cobain's suicide with distortion dragged through the ugliest gravel pit, Western Hero forlornly recalls past glories of an old cowboy, Trans Am forlornly recalls past glories of a Trans Am, Safeway Cart paints a portrait of ghetto decay, and the epic fourteen minute long Change Your Mind tries consoling with extreme depression, wary of the spectre of suicide ever lurking in the shadows. My God, it wasn't that many years prior Young gave the world the sentimental Harvest Moon, much less teaming up with The Horse on the free-wheeling Ragged Glory. Even the one 'cock rocker' on here, the hilarious Piece Of Crap, rants on about disposable consumerist junk. What made them turn so dour? '90s, man, f’n '90s.

I wonder if that’s why Sleeps With Angels doesn’t receive the same Boomer plaudits as Young’s older work. The songcraft is all here, Neil & Crazy as tight-knit yet wonderfully loose of a unit during their ‘90s resurgence, but older folks just don’t talk it up much. Are the topics too touchy for his traditional audience, a sense of all the things that generation had worked for run ragged and cast aside by Gen-X’s emergence upon adulthood? Figures Young found a common link between the two with his music, the grunge aesthetic he helped pioneer turned into musings on the state of the nation. Its topics the adults could relate to, but wrapped in a package appealing to the teens, and all the more brilliant for it. Sadly, that also lands Sleeps With Angels in a nowhere land between disparate music scenes, often neglected by both.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Rust Never Sleeps

Reprise Records: 1979/1990

The only Neil Young Comeback Album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a fan of Neil Young Comeback Albums. Yes, he's had enough of them to count as their own, distinct branch in the massive tree that is Rusty's discography. They're not so definitive as before, his career lately seeing more ebb and flow rather than peaks and valleys of decades pasts. For a brief while there in the '70s though, it looked as though Young would never recapture the creative spark that marked his early material.

Not that he was in a serious slump leading up to this album – certainly nothing that could rival the true dark times of the mid-‘80s. Unfortunately, following his critically lauded “Ditch Trilogy”, Young was in danger of succumbing to a terrible thing for any popular musician: irrelevancy. His album output had turned sketchy, failing to grab fresh audiences as new trends took hold of public discourse in the late ‘70s. Thus, like most rockers of the ‘60s, he was left with only two options. One: double-down on the music that earned him his dedicated following, and retain his loyal fans but risk creative stagnation. Two: attempt a bandwagon jump, keeping one’s name with the pace of cultural movements, but almost certainly make an ass of yourself in the process; a desperate bid at remaining relevant. Naturally, Neil F’n Young chose option number Three: cater to the faithful, and successfully tap into a new rock zeitgeist.

The inspiration came with a concept tour, one that would encompass two performances on stage. The first half would be primarily a solo outing of him playing acoustic folk material (with a duet thrown in here and there), then Crazy Horse would join him for some rock ‘n’ roll ruckus. He’d play some old standards, but mostly new material (from which this album’s track list was culled). The stage itself had giant-sized props of gear, handled by roadies dressed in Jawa costumes, and encourage audience interaction by donning faux 3D glasses, witnessing the band “decay before their very eyes”. It was the most theatrical set of concerts Young had ever put on, in some small part inspired by his wacky chums over at the Devo camp. In truth, they came up with the phrase “rust never sleeps” for a cleaner solution advertisement. Figures Young would take it as representing the dangers of artistic decay.

The folk numbers become some of Rustie’s enduring classics, a critical look back on his musical compatriots in Thrashers, and more stands for Native American tragedies in Pocahontas and Ride My Llama. Where he truly made a mark though, was Hey Hey, My My, a thunderous blast of distortion and noise that put his generation of rockers on notice: punk music was the real deal, a force that could not be ignored. Time to adapt, or unceremoniously fade as the old King Of Rock, Elvis Presley, had so recently. Some serious shots fired there, and pay attention the rock world did.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - re-ac-tor

Reprise Records: 1981/2003

Just how sloppy and loose can a band go before it turns unacceptable? For that authentic scrappy, bar-blues rock played out of downtown dive garage feeling (or something), folks often gives a little on the technical side. Where Mr. Young and his band-of-brothers Crazy Horse are concerned, listeners wouldn’t have it any other way, their freewheeling approach to music making part and partial of their charm. It’s given them the leeway to go into albums with barely any prep and only the most tenuous of themes: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere is about capturing fresh band synergy at its source of inspiration; Ragged Glory is about re-capturing that same spark long after it should have expired; Psychedelic Pill is about re-re-capturing that spark even as grandpas.

Those are just the albums I’ve thus far reviewed though (wow, what a weird thematic coincidence), and the group’s done other material with a different focus. In the case of re-ac-tor, Neil had to fulfill his album obligation to Reprise Records before getting a sweet deal from Geffen, and slapped out a sloppy collection of Crazy Horse jams to do so. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate, but given the utter lack of finesse in many of these songs, it makes for a juicy bit of suppositional gossip taking that stance.

The truth is a little more nuanced, Neil’s personal life growing incredibly stressful and in need of some changes. That he’d miss some creative fire or not have time for proper rehearsals with Crazy Horse is understandable in that context, but one must ask why force an album if he’s not quite feeling it? Songs like Get Back On It, Motor City, and Rapid Transit are some of the goofiest, simplest examples of southern rock I’ve ever heard, while T-Bone is nothing more a drunken three-chord jam that lasts nine minutes! Still, if you’re a fan of Young and Horse, it’s an awesome drunken three-chord jam session, but you’d hardly want to show it off to others as the group at their best.

And hey, Young always finds ways of crafting catchy, compelling music even on his off years. Southern Pacific is a charming ode to the once-mighty rail industry, with a suitably chugging rhythm and, dare I say, picturesque lyrics (plus was packaged as a bizarre triangular gatefold 7” single). Shots is also vivid, though with such ugly and messy manner with blown chords, out-of-sync rhythm, and nasty distortion, the sloppy production of re-ac-tor actually makes sense in this case. Finally, Opera Star and Surfer Joe And Moe The Sleaze are fun little bar rock tunes, probably also performed while intoxicated.

That’s about the strongest endorsement for this album I can give: best enjoyed drunk. Neil And His Wacky Horses have stronger LPs in their discography, some dynamic, others somber - this one’s about as half-assed as you’ll ever hear the group, but perhaps one of the funnest too. Screw you, SpellCheck, I cans sloopy grammar alls I wants to for re-ac-tor.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Ragged Glory

Reprise Records: 1990

This album took me from “Yeah, Neil Young's got some nice music, I guess.” to “Neil is God!” That might not be as impressive as it seems, despite Ragged Glory being the second record I picked up from Mr. Shakey (and first with the Crazy Horses). Had I nabbed one of his early efforts like Rust Never Sleeps or After The Goldrush before this, it’s probable I'd fall sway to his musical allure just the same. I can't even remember why I took the plunge on this one in particular, since all I really knew of his output was the Harvest Moon folksy material (Rockin' In The Free World notwithstanding). I'd heard good things about Ragged Glory, sure, but nothing that suggested it was a life-changing album or the like. Took that plunge I did though, after which I was compelled to consume all that Mr. Young had released. Fortunately for my bank account, the country hoe-down Old Ways was my follow-up, quickly instilling some caution in any further explorations of Neil's discography.

For all intents, there isn't anything about Ragged Glory that should have had the impact on me that it did. It’s a great rock album, no doubt, but it’s not reinventing the wheel or leading the charge of a new, unique scene. The music is catchy and unchallenging, with guitar riffs going down easy and sweet vocal harmonies that’ll lodge themselves in your brain without ever overstaying their welcome. The lyrics have little nuggets of aging wisdom about them (or, in the case of Farmer John, are just sloppy good fun), though seem written as mere service to the music performed. At most, Ragged Glory serves as a definitive statement for aging rockers that one not need fade away like so much bad ‘80s hair. Unlike many of his fellow ‘60s and ‘70s alum, he found kinship with the new generation of alt-rock and grunge bands emerging from the underground, and was fearless in joining their ranks. If his prior album Freedom was a rebirth of sorts, then Ragged Glory finds Neil full of fire and flying high above his contemporaries.

I can’t say any of you will have the same notions about this album should you hear it, especially as you’re reading this on an electronic music blog (mang, crunchy guitar solos are totally electronic!). I guess in my case, Ragged Glory represented the sort of rock that I always imagined rock music should sound like, but seldom heard performed. Believe me, with all the garage bands I’ve been exposed to over the years, none had such a rugged edge while retaining bar-blues affability and dismissing arrogant posturing. Young’s solos here are wild and messy, yet I hang on each chord, eagerly anticipating which unpredictable direction he’ll go in next, always reassured he’ll find his way back to Crazy Horse’s steadying rhythm. I imagine, had I heard Ragged Glory before ‘techno’ seduced me, I’d have picked up that damn guitar like my old man always hoped I would.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Psychedelic Pill

Reprise Records: 2012

As I’ve repeated endlessly, Neil Young, restless muse that he is, never fears exploring musical genres. Whether it be blues, synth-pop, hillbilly ho-down, guitar drone, gospel, or something totally made-up for a single song that one time (probably), his discography is littered with curious cul-de-sacs jutting off from his rock and folk thoroughfares. However, Young’s most utterly bizarre detour has to be this double-album of psy trance. Not that he wouldn’t want to try his hand at something electronic again, but aside from the shared hippie lineage, this is so outside Young’s traditional sound that- What do you mean Psychedelic Pill isn’t psy trance? This is Psy Trance Week, isn’t it? What’s this album doing here then? Curse ye’, alphabetical stipulation – you gummed up another theme week!

So what we don't have here is Neil Young and his Crazy Horse band doing psy trance; rather, it's the dynamic foursome going back to their grungy rock roots and indulging themselves for obscene lengths of time. One track hits the nine minute mark, two more breach sixteen, and the opener Driftin' Back lasts a whopping twenty-seven minutes, officially become the longest song Young's ever recorded. And it's fucking awesome! Psychedelic Pill is the NYCH album fans had been hoping on for years, at least since their last good run in the mid-'90s. We always knew the group had it in them to absolutely tear through some new guitar epics, their occasional live shows more than enough proof. Who cares if the lyrics are some of the simplest, mundane things Young’s ever sung - that didn’t stop the ridiculous T-Bone from way back being good stupid fun. Besides, this is all about the wonderful, crunchy distortion and impeccable synergy between these musicians. They may not be as ‘locked in’ as their older classics, but Ramada Inn, She’s Always Dancing, and Walk Like A Giant are as fun of musical rides as you can expect from Young & Horse.

And of course you don’t really care that much. Okay, maybe you do, if you’ve read this far, but more so than most Neil Young albums I’ve reviewed, Psychedelic Pill’s a hard sell. Walk Like A Giant and She’s Always Dancing have lovely harmonizing vocals, and Ramada Inn features as catchy a bar rock hook as you’ll ever hear, yet are surrounded by so much jamming, it’ll try the patience of all but the most ardent rock fans out there. And unfortunately, the few shorter tunes littered about this double-LP aren’t much to get fussed over (the titular cut’s got some cool flanging effects going for it though), especially when overshadowed by the behemoth songs. Also, are we really all that interested in Young reminiscing about the days of old again? No, can’t say that we are.

Damn it though, I can’t get enough of Young and Crazy Horse’s epic, sloppy rock. Only get Psychedelic Pill after you’ve been bitten by the Rusty bug. Once you have, come on in for the chemical-enhanced treat!

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 6 - Topanga 3 (1970)

Reprise Records: 2009

Despite taking a step back from the limelight, Neil Young once again found himself a very important person in the world of American rock. It'd only been half-a-decade since he sought music fortune in Los Angeles, and he'd accomplished more commercially and creatively than most could have ever hoped for in that time, even for the fruitful '60s. What else could he do beyond being part of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, one of the country's most popular bands?

“How about scoring a movie?” suggested Young's Topanga neighbour Dean Stockwell. Yes, that Dean Stockwell, who'd been interested in scripting and filming a movie called After The Goldrush. It piqued ol' Shakey's interest enough to start writing a few tunes for it, and though the film never materialized, some of the intended music turned out to be some of the highlights of Young's album of the same name (Tell Me Why, After The Goldrush, Don’t Let It Bring You Down). It also sparked his creativity ever further, vivid lyrics compared to songs past, and unafraid at stretching his limited vocal range into areas yet attempted. You can really hear him crackling the high notes in After The Goldrush for the first time, exposing a naked sincerity to his music.

The other two standouts from these sessions are Southern Man and When You Dance, I Can Really Love, capturing Young and his Crazy Horse band in full-on swagger musically. Added to the mix is seventeen year old Nils Lofgren, a budding guitarist that’d been something of an understudy to Young. In what had to been either crazy brilliant or brilliantly crazy, Neil suggested Nils play piano for these songs, an instrument lil’ Lofgren had no prior experience with. The kid fuckin’ smashed it! That’s Mr. Young for you though, so often bringing the best out of those around him.

Also, something must have lit a bug up his ass, because Young got incredibly political at this point in his career – post hippie activism, I guess. Southern Man was already an incendiary condemnation of, well, southern redneck ‘justice’ and treatment of African-Americans. Then the Kent State shooting occurred, and within days, Young was calling upon his super-group brothers-in-arms Crosby, Stills, and Nash, ready to unleash an incendiary attack on Nixon for the travesty (Ohio). After all, if you’re being billed a very important rock band, might as well use that platform to get a very important message out there too. It’s a trick the group would do again while touring together as Young was promoting his Living With War album during Bush Jr.’s administration.

Some live stuff from CSNY round out the rest of Topanga 3 (1970), including a bit of silly stage banter while struggling with a bass guitar set-up. After fuffing about, Neil says, “We’d like to do a serious song now.” “Some of our heavy political material,” Stills deadpans. “This song of Neil’s got us thrown right out of Kuwait.” Ohio? Nope, Tell Me Why. Oh, those jokers.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 4 - Topanga 2 (1969-1970)

Reprise Records: 2009

Having gotten the solo stylee out of his system, Neil Young finished off his modest first tour and high-tailed it back to Topanga. He had unfinished business with that Crazy Horse trio of Danny Whitten, Ralph Molina, and Billy Talbot he stole from The Rockets, an album with them to complete after enjoying such an invigorating first session that saw Down By The River and Cowgirl In The Sand emerge. Having spent some time properly preparing for new recordings, the songs written were far shorter, less about extended rock jams and such. The big tune off this outing was Cinnamon Girl, and if you’ve still yet to hear it after I explicitly told you to in the Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere review… Well, now you have no excuse. Ignore my recommendation once, shame on you, ignore my recommendation twice, double-shame on you!

This second recording session included a few more songs that ended up on the group’s first album, plus a handful more that would fill out Young’s second solo outing After The Goldrush. Crazy Horse were also working on their own album, which would have the fun country-stomp romp of Dance Dance Dance as a highlight even though Young often played it solo too. On Disc 4 is a ridiculously charming drunken hoe-down version – what’s even going on with those hi-hats? Love it!

While back in Topanga, his old musical comrade/nemesis Stephen Stills from the Springfield got in touch with Neil about joining his current band, Crosby, Stills & Nash, the idea they’d become an American super-rock group that could creatively rival anyone from the UK. Okay, maybe it’s just my being of a totally younger generation, but really? Neil Young’s awesome, no doubt, and Stills plus David Crosby were undeniably at the height of their musical potential in the late ‘60s, but I’ve a difficult time believing this group was anything close to The Beatles or The Who. Then again, Stills and Young did have the same creative synergy going for them that Lennon and McCartney had, so who knows, maybe they were onto something after all.

The other half of Topanga 2 (1969-1970) mostly features tunes recorded in anticipation for the first CSNY tour, including their performance of Sea Of Madness at Woodstock. Oh yeah, Young was at Woodstock, because of course he would be, though he mostly kept out of sight even when on stage. Guess he hadn’t gotten over that ‘too big an audience’ hang-up he had that led him to playing coffee houses in the first place. Dammit, he wouldn’t have this problem if he would just stop making great music, but Young never lets his creativity sit fallow for long.

Anyhow, the CSNY tunes on Topanga 2 are nice, vastly more studio polished compared to the Crazy Horse stuff. Can’t say I’m much of a fan of this super-group, at least with the songs Young initially contributed. Shortly though, he’d kick out one of their all-time classics.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 2 - Topanga 1 (1968-1969)

Reprise Records: 2009

Being a part of Buffalo Springfield greatly benefited Neil Young’s development as a musician, even if he quickly turned sour to the whole experience. It gave him the chance to bounce ideas off equally creative musicians, gaining confidence in his writing and performing as large Los Angeles crowds cheered at the Springfield’s shows. That Canadian-bred humbleness hadn’t prepared him for such intense success and adulation so quickly though, and Young frequently no-showed band gigs at the height of their popularity (health problems didn’t help either). So the break-up was inevitable, but whereas his former band mates formed or joined other bands, Young retreated to the solo circuit, including a move to a super-hippie enclave outside Los Angeles called Topanga.

We’re also entering the years of ol’ Shakey’s proper album output now, which Archives borrows liberally from. The good news here is, if you’ve only been a casual collector of Young’s music and skipped out on some of his less-regarded LPs (*cough*), this’ll fill out those musical gaps nicely. If you’ve been thorough in your Young collecting though (*double-cough*), Archives at least provides a proper, spiffy-fresh re-master of his material, much of which hadn’t seen much care since their original recordings (much less a decent digital transfer).

Though Young had retreated to the casual clime of Topanga and folksy gigs, he kept busy by putting together his self-titled debut. Neil Young sounds very little like anything else in his discography, in that it’s surprisingly overproduced; or “over-dubbed”, as Young put it. The Old Laughing Lady and I’ve Loved Her So Long, for instance, features string sections and backing gospel girls along with your standard folk-band arrangements. Okay, not a drastic difference compared to some of his other works, but something’s lost in piecing together his music like that: the spontaneity and soul that defines so much of Young’s appeal. Of the tunes included on Topanga 1 (1968-1969) that were culled from Neil Young, only The Last Trip To Tulsa captures the stripped-back folk-narrative style you’d expect.

Fortunately during this time, Young had started hanging around a band name The Rockets – or as they came to be known, Crazy Horse. I’ve already detailed how that turned out in Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, from which the titular cut, Down By The River, and Cowgirl In The Sand appears on here. Hearing these following the Neil Young material, it’s astounding the difference that ‘ragged live’ energy Crazy Horse provides Young’s music. No longer tentative and deferring to producers, the music’s strident, confident, and kinetic.

Also on Topanga 1 are a couple alternate takes of other Neil Young tunes, and part of the Live At Canterbury House gig that includes Sugar Mountain and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing. I assume these two songs are here as contrast to the demo recordings of the same songs found on Disc 0, demonstrating how far he’d come as a musician in half a decade. Yeah, he’d developed some skill. Just wait for the next five years though.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Live At The Fillmore East

Reprise Records: 2006

Yeah, another Neil Young album. Get used to this, as we’re a long way from covering everything I've collected from the guy, to say nothing of that massive Archives box-set down the road. He's also a rocker who does utilize the word “Live” in the titles for his live albums a fair bit; fortunately, there's only a pair of them to deal with in the now, the first of which was the first to be released of the ongoing Performance Series project.

Apparently ol' Neil had a habit of recording damn near anything he had a chance to, including several gigs that might have a preferred rendition of new songs destined for future albums. For instance, The Needle And The Damage done, as appeared on Harvest (and thus every classic rock station ever), was from his performance on the Johnny Cash Show. More famously, he released Rust Never Sleeps as all live recordings from the tour he debuted those songs. Really, many songs from Rusty saw concert duty before showing up in LP form, sometimes years later at that.

And yep, we got some such tunes on this tidy six-tracker from Neil and his Crazy Horse band’s two-day Fillmore East gig in 1970. Wonderin’, sounding like a b-side to Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, didn’t appear on a proper Young album until 19-f’n-83, and in a “fuck you, Geffen” rockabilly album at that! There’s also Winterlong, which didn’t properly show up until the decade-spanning Young compilation titled Decade. Finally, Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown, a Danny Whitten penned piece of blues-rock that appeared on Tonight’s The Night (though also on the first Crazy Horse album shortly after this gig – yes, the band released music on their own too, though little as memorable as what they did with Neil Young).

Hearing some authentic Danny Whitten era live Horse was a big selling point in issuing Live At The Fillmore East. Aside from the few studio recordings, about all that we whippersnappers had to go by his brilliance was hearsay and shitty bootlegs of concerts. I mean, sure, Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River were pretty darn cool tunes on the first Young Plus Horse album, but no better than anything else we’d hear from later efforts when Frank Sampedro replaced him.

Well shit, son, here’s a proper education in these matters, twelve minutes of River and a whopping fifteen minutes of Cowgirl, and not a wasted second in either. Damn it, I’m playing this version of Cowgirl in the background as I type this, and believe you me I want to stop and just listen to these musicians jam away. The Youngful Horses had some time to perfect their roles since the first ragged recording sessions – still can barely carry a vocal harmony, though.

Despite only being a smattering of their Live At Fillmore East runs, this remains a tasty treat for folks fully bitten by the Rusty Psycho Equus. Just might convince a few doubters too.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Greendale

Reprise Records: 2003

I mean, what else was Neil Young gonna do in his career? He'd explored rock music in nearly all its forms: country, punk, grunge, etc. He did classic rock before it was ever 'classic', and he even did proper classic rock, rockabilly. Folk music? Done it. Blues music? Conquered. Electronic music? Damn straight he went there! Death metal? Well, okay, maybe not that one – I can't imagine ol' Neil's 'baying at the moon' singing working too favourably when Cookie Monster growls are the norm. Still, Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black) isn't too far off from power-chord distortion metal...

Anyhow, what I'm getting at here is, after a long, long history of having done about all one could ever hope to in rock music, taking a stab at a rock opera wasn't so daft – no less odd than his other quirky ventures over the years. This being Neil though, Greendale wasn't going to be a performance piece on the scale of The Wall. Rather, it was a small, intimate effort, relying on just him and Crazy Horse’s brand of kick-ass country-blues rock to tell the tale, though the tunes are musically simple, even for them. Incidentally, so was the production itself, almost on the level of a community theatre show, which makes sense from a thematic standpoint, as it's all about a small town and a series of events that shake a family to their very core.

Spoilers? Well, since I know barely anyone reading this on an electronic music blog is likely to listen to Greendale - even long time fans were rather confuddled over it – I may as well let you in on the story that takes place.

A family called the Greens lives in a sleepy town called Greendale. About the only major ruckus they caused was when Edith and Earl Green changed the name of a rancho they bought. Sacrilege! How can anyone change the Double L to the Double E? Aside from that though, not much happens for the first few songs of Greendale. Then, in a chance pullover by Officer Carmichael, he catches Jed Green drug running. No one knew Jed was a bad apple, and he only makes things worse when, in a panic, he shoots the policeman! Oops.

As you can imagine, the townsfolk aren’t too pleased, and following Carmichael’s funeral, the media seeks to interview Grandpa Green about the incident, an old curmudgeon traditionalist (with a sense of the Fourth Wall no less, often complaining about “that guy singing”). Just as the old man literally tells the media to get off his lawn with a shotgun, he has a heart attack and dies.

Sun Green, the firebrand young activist girl, doesn’t take kindly to seeing her family fall apart due to the media, and... oh dear, I’m running out of self-imposed word count. I’ll just leave on the note that by the end, the FBI kills a cat, and the final song, Be The Rain, is all kinds of awesome!

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere

Reprise Records: 1969

Considering I have more Neil Young releases than any other artist, it’s remarkable that it took four and a half months before encountering an album of his in my alphabetical listening. Fanboyish of me, you say, owning so much of his music? Pft, truthfully I’ve gathered perhaps a mere third of his output, as the guy’s been ridiculously prolific since the ‘60s. Still, I’m an admitted Rustie, and Young’s one of those musicians that’s hard to explain why you become a follower. For most, he’s just some guy that’ll make a song or three with a catchy hook, or some pleasant folksy harmonies, or a proper rock-out session, and that’s all. Then, without warning, something snags you, drawing you into Shakey’s world. It can be any number of his releases that does this - a man as eclectic as him has undoubtedly recorded a genre or two that you’ll fancy - but when it does, there’s no going back.

Personally, it was the album Ragged Glory, recorded with Young’s long-time back-up band Crazy Horse. This here album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere was the first one they did together, apparently recorded a short while after enjoying a couple jams together when the band was still known as The Rockets. I know I’m just repeating the chorus of what everyone’s said since its release in 1969, but the synergy between the two was remarkable. With barely any prep time, Young wrote a few new tunes, and they got their asses in the studio, pretty much recording the whole thing on the fly. The result is definitely raw and under-produced, which only added to the charm of it, and became a staple for not only their subsequent releases, but almost Young’s entire musical career.

The big hit off here was Cinnamon Girl, which was quite a heavy rocker for its day. Chances are you’ve heard some version of it, and if not, go listen to it, and have it forever stuck in your head. Other tunes skewed more folksy, though the titular cut’s a fun little country-rock stomp (that bassline!), while Running Dry’s forlorn and rather psychedelic (hey, ’69, man!).

Two songs truly captured what Young and the Horse were capable of: Down By The River and Cowgirl In The Sand, primarily extended jams, the former more southern and the latter straightforward rock. If your idea of jam music only goes so far as The Grateful Dead or Phish, you’re missing out. These guys lock into a groove and just go, the Horse providing the rhythmic backbone while Young coerces whatever wonderful sonic mess he can out of his “Old Black” ’53 Gibson Les Paul. Throw in lovely, harmonic choruses every so often, and you've got a pair of classic guitar epics for your ears.

Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere is a solid introduction to Young and his Horse, but some of their best runs of these songs came at the live shows. Guess I’ll talk about that whenever I reach the 'L's.