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!

ACE TRACKS: January 2014

Whoa, wait a minute here! How can there already by an ACE TRACKS playlist for January when we’re barely a week into the month? The answer, to the surprise of no one, is that this is the January playlist from last year. Ah, I remember that time so fondly, spending nearly two days straight of finally giving this blog actual sound clips and links via Amazon. Boy, if only I had a different audio service available to me at the time that would have made that process so much easier. If only…



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Doc Scott - Lost In Drum N’ Bass
The Orb - Live 93
DJ Aaron Carter - Lit Up

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 26%
Percentage of Rock: 4%
Most “WTF?” Track: Archie Bleyer - Hernando’s Hideaway (get your tango on, mate)

This was quite an eclectic month, as far as musical genres are concerned. Beyond the highly recognizable electronic names like Leftfield, Ladytron, Infected Mushroom, and FSOL, there’s obscure acid techno, reggae, world music, and grimey UK bass. Also, live albums, so expect to hear more cheering crowds than a KLF record. Surprisingly, the end result isn’t as convoluted or forced as other 'kitchen sink' playlists I’ve done. I won’t deny a couple clunky transitions, though (sorry, Rae’).

The total runtime is about 10 hours here, but that’s because I gave three whole albums Ace Track status that month: Asura’s Life², Bob Marely’s Legend, and GZA’s Liquid Swords. Instead of clumsily worming these LPs’ individual tracks throughout, I’ve lumped each one at the very end of the playlist. It makes better sense having albums that are great straight through represented as such anyway.

ACE TRACKS: June 2014

Told you making these playlists don’t take long. I could almost make posts like this a weekly thing, which would finally complete the whole backlog by about, oh, Spring Break. No rush. Anyhow, here’s ACE TRACKS: June 2014


Link to full tracklist on Deezer.

Missing Albums:
Bandulu - Guidance
Bandulu - Cornerstone
Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - The Key
2 Unlimited - No Limits (Found!)

Hip-Hop Percentage: 6%
Neil Young Percentage: 25%
Most “WTF?” Track: Buffalo Springfield - I Am A Child (you'll know why when you hear it)

Bloody shame about Bandulu not being available – would love a little more attention thrown in their direction, even if it’s only on Spotify Deezer. But yes, June was dominated by that Neil Young: Archives collection, which made putting this playlist something of a challenge. That’s just way too much of a single artist to take in a single sitting, and I say this as an absolute fan of the guy! Wound up with half-a-dozen of his songs just lumped together at the end.

Complicating things further were the equal amounts of psy dub, ‘70s synth music, and poppy dance and trance. These styles of music do not mesh well at all, much less while shoehorning ‘60s folk and rock in the there. Hell, the tribal-dub-techno of Bandulu and PWoG actually help bridge them together. I kept things flowing as best I could with what I had to work with, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some feel compelled to hit that skip button.

Neil Young - On The Beach

Reprise Records: 1974/2003

So, how's your day going? Good, you say? That's cool, peachy. I'm doing pretty good myself. Enjoying my new Sennheiser Momentum headphones very much, thank you. What's that, you found $20 on the ground? Wow, that's some swell luck. You know, I think everything's looking bright for us. I almost feel guilty feeling good about things and stuff right now. Hey, I know what will bring me right the fuck down, Neil Young's On The Beach. Few things depress you quicker than that ode to post-hippie '70s existential crisis of being!

Not that you could blame the poor guy. Sure, he was a commercial success and all that, but at what cost had that fame come? If his musician friends weren't dying from drug overdoses, they were getting lost up their needles and noses with the stuff. He could sell out concerts, but considering how often he felt compelled to flee his fanatical fans, what comfort was there in that? And everything else in Americana seemed to be going tits up, the prosperity of the '50s and counter-culture idealism of the '60s getting hit with hard, bitter, cold reality of events out of their control. Where else could Neil Young go but straight for the ditch, burning his bridge to fame (but not his fortune!) as he tried making sense of it all.

Thus, you get a track like Vampire Blues, condemning the Western world’s growing dependence on fossil fuels. There’s Revolution Blues, painting redneck culture as ever the jaded reactionary types as we’ve stereotyped them into today. For The Turnstiles paints a dour picture of other charming Americana like county fairs and baseball games. See The Sky About To Rain is more poetic, coming off like After The Goldrush material (I think it was written around that time anyway). Motion Pictures laments his fame, and Ambulance Blues flat out criticizes all that hippie optimism that accomplished squat in the ‘70s. “Pissing in the wind” indeed.

As those song titles suggest, there’s quite a bit of blues music here, though only the titular cut’s out-and-out blue-blues as you imagine. Revolution Blues is a basic southern rock out (that bass!), and Vampire Blues is the chipper version of blues rock, what with a cool shuffle percussion, a bit of organ action, and one of Shakey’s weirdest solos ever (is he trying to sound like bubbling crude?). For The Turnstiles, meanwhile, goes for a banjo duo, and Ambulance Blues sounds like a whiskey-soaked country jam, including a ...bass fiddle? Whatever it is, it sure sounds sad. I think Toby Marks used something similar on Big Men Cry.

Okay, this is a depressing album, but the music is quite creative and beautiful in its misery. It also helps that Young’s perspective on things got better a few years after, so a happy(ish) wrap to this story. On The Beach is best treated as a time-capsule, a period in Young’s life where he captured a despondent spirit of a generation.

Neil Young - Old Ways

Geffen Records: 1985/2000

Old Ways is regarded as one of Neil Young’s all-time worst albums. Don’t worry though, he’d probably admit it as such, the music within as much a protest album as it is a collection of throwback country jangles. David Geffen, growing annoyed by Young’s casual disregard for making chart-friendly music anymore, filed an actual lawsuit against him for not making music “representative of Neil Young”. Um, Mr. Geffen, have you heard his discography? Even before signing to your label, he’d been musically all over the place (rock, folk, blues, punk, art-house film). True, Trans and Everybody’s Rocking were new roads taken, but what else was he gonna’ do in the ‘80s? Big band jazz?

Anyhow, while faced with this lawsuit, ol’ Shakey reunited with his Nashville buddies, recorded some country-as-fuck jams intended for his new album, and if Geffen whined about it, he’d go so far as to make this his permanent new sound, essentially voiding the lawsuit. Man, that’s fighting dirty. What about your fans, Neil? All those who loved the Crazy Horse material? Or the heartfelt folk ditties? The three people fascinated by the synth-pop exploration? Forget it, this is about principle, and standing up against big corporate bullies who believe money and lawyers can get them anything they want. Taken with that context, Old Ways just might secretly be Neil Young’s most awesome album ever!

(note: I bought this album before I knew of its history; any of Young’s story, if I’m honest. I’d just gotten into his music, and figured everything would sound like either Ragged Glory or Harvest Moon. Definitely a crash course in discovering his erratic muse, this.)

But nay, this album’s about as country as the old West could twang. Opener The Wayward Wind even features a full orchestra, sounding like it belongs as in the opening credits to a Clint Eastwood movie where he talks to tree. Following that is Get Back To The Country, as silly a hoe-down jam as you’ll ever hear, including a Juice Harp! It’s my favorite ‘bad’ Neil Young song. Other songs like Misfits and Bound For Glory sound like they were intended as “everyday people” folk ditties, repurposed as western tunes here. The rest are pretty generic country tunes – does anyone really care if there are any more real cowboys?

Still, even if Old Ways was executed as a backhand against Geffen, Young seldom half-fasts his creative whims, fully embracing this ‘persona’ of rugged farmer and cowboy of the land. He even roped in country mainstays Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson on harmony duties (to say nothing of the manure-ton of Nashville session musicians, including a few Stray Gator alums), with live shows that were a hootin’ good ol’ time if you were into that sort of thing. I honestly can’t give this album much of a recommendation though, as it’s incredibly genre-specific and the odds of anyone reading this on an electronic music blog being into country are zilch to none. Get out of here, Contrarian Sykonee.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 8 - North Country (1971-1972)

Reprise Records: 2009

“Mr. Young, you've achieved fame and fortune before your Thirties, have achieved more in a decade's worth of music than most could hope for in a lifetime, performed with a multitude of talented musicians covering a wide range of rock, country, folk, and even a God damned symphony while in London. What do you plan on doing next?”

“I'm gonna' get me a ranch, and get away from all you spazzes.”

Well, okay, he didn't say exactly that, but he was inching ever closer to diving “for the ditch”, as Young so eloquently put it in a few short years. The final music disc of Archive, Vol. 1 is almost bittersweet in how it caps off the box-set at the absolute peak of ol' Shakey's commercial success, most of his material from Harvest accounted for. That's another album I've already reviewed, so check that one out for the particular details of how his most popular record came into being. The only additions from the Stray Gators sessions that didn't appear on Harvest include Bad Fog Of Loneliness, Journey Through The Past, and an extended take of Words (Between The Lines Of Age). I think this material was featured in Young's movie soundtrack, but I never bought that, despite the allure of having Young and a rare-ish Beach Boys tune on the same record!

Another live recording of Heart Of Gold starts out North Country (1971-1972), included as evidence for his admittance at having little prior experience using a mounted harmonica (I guess). The back end of Disc 8 includes a couple more examples of Neil’s “heavy political material” in Soldier and War Song with Graham Nash (what, no Crosby or Stills?). And that’s it, the end of Archives, Vol. 1. We’re done, over, finished. Boy, that week blew by fast. Thank God though, as I couldn’t take much more Neil in such a single sitting again. I enjoy his music, but not that I must hear it all the time.

Is this where I absolutely, definitely, positively recommend this box set? No, of course not - only a hardcore Rustie should bother with Archives, Vol. 1. If you do intend to take the plunge based on hearing a few songs from this era, I still wouldn’t recommend it much as an exploratory dive-in point – checking out the albums is a safer bet. That said, Archives, Vol. 1 is handy in gathering all his disparate output into one, tidy package, and the sound quality can’t be beat if you spring for the DVD or Blu-Ray bundle. Plus, every track has a different custom ‘video’ crafted for it, a short film of either a record (official release), reel-to-reel (previously unreleased material), or other medium (cassette tape, 8-track (lol)) playing in a unique setting surrounded by pertinent memorabilia – yes, even for minute-long ditties like Cripple Creek Ferry. With one-hundred twenty-eight tracks total, that’s a remarkable amount of affection and care given in presenting Young’s material. Would any self-respecting Rustie expect less?

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 3 - Live At The Riverboat 1969

Reprise Records: 2009

There's quite the romanticism associated with Neil Young's first year of solo gigs - the 'purity' of audience connectivity in small, intimate venues, places where a musician with any sort of star-ascent is unable to perform in. 1968 and ‘69 were about the only years Young could have done such shows once he broke away from his Buffalo Springfield fame, still a relatively unknown entity beyond being the kooky guy with a ridiculously long leather tassel jacket. Even with a debut album to tour with, he could get away with the small-time vibe of coffee houses, the lack of big singles beyond his Springfield output keeping him on the fringes of folk-rock interests. Thus CDs like Sugar Mountain - Live At Canterbury House 1968 and Live At Cellar Door (recorded 1970) are wonderful bits of Shakey artefacts, the last performances where you can picture Neil sitting but a dozen feet from you, casually chit-chatting with a genteel audience playing from a very small selection of songs he'd written to that point.

Live At The Riverboat 1969 is a significant performance from Young, in that it marked his first return to Toronto after his westward exodus. In but two years later, he’d be playing Massey Hall, but at this point in his career, the tiny Riverboat coffee house was more than enough to draw in locals who remembered him from his Squires days ...haha, no, as with everyone else, they likely knew of his music through Buffalo Springfield. Half his set list features songs written those years (I Am A Child, Expecting To Fly, Broken Arrow, etc.), and most of the rest is from his self-titled debut. Its nice hearing acoustic versions of some of the over-produced tunes like Broken Arrow and The Old Laughing Lady, though not essential pieces of music for casual Rusties.

And honestly, there’s not much difference between Live At The Riverboat and Live At Canterbury House. Not that Young had a huge discography at this point for eclectic acoustic playlists, but there’s little incentive to have this recording beyond being a charming addition to Archives, Vol. 1. Okay, the audience rapport’s funny too, tales of the odd necessity for musicians to make ‘dope songs’, bizarre medical practices, a shout-out to Bruce Palmer in the audience, and a bit of fun playing five-second children’s jingles like 1956 Bubblegum Disaster (“It took me three years to write that one.”).

Ooh, spare word count - let’s talk about the DVD presentation! Live At The Riverboat’s an odd one, practically a study in minimalist film making. It features a solitary reel-to-reel atop a stool running under a low spotlight, an acoustic guitar resting beside it, a couple microphones nearby, tables with candle-lights glowing in the surrounding darkness, and scattered playlist notes on the ground. The camera angles and focus change up between songs, so it’s not one long take either. I cannot deny the setting imparts a remarkably nostalgic twinge of times past (re: reel-to-reels fascinated Toddler Sykonee).

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 - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 1 - Early Years (1966-1968)

Reprise Records: 2009

So westward Neil Young went, piling into an old hearse-mobile with friend Bruce Palmer in search of better musical prospects. Oh yeah, before that, the two were briefly in a Motown band called The Mynah Birds, fronted by Rick F'n James. While nothing ever came of it, folks love pointing it out as one of the 'small world' tidbits of musical trivia. I'm only pointing it out because I'll get heck if I don't. So there it is.

Also a necessary tale-drop is how Young and Palmer found their pal Stephen Stills in Los Angeles. After crossing nearly a full continent, they had no place to stay, no money, no way of getting in touch with their contacts, and no direction. Just as they were ready to give up hope and head northward, they spotted Stills while sitting ‘still’ in a traffic jam (oh ho-ho, such a clever pun *slaps self*). Divine intervention? Not really, since the odds of such an occurrence aren’t that astronomical if hopeful musicians were known to congregate in certain neighbourhoods. Still, it is a remarkable fluke their crossing of paths did happen at all when you consider this was well long before the age of cell-phones, internet, and most other forms of communications easing our means of perpetual contact today.

Anyhow, the band Buffalo Springfield formed. If the name seems familiar, it’s likely from one of two reasons: you’ve heard their music on a classic rock radio station (probably For What It’s Worth, also known as the “everybody look what’s going down” song you always hear in ‘Nam or hippie movies), or you saw Scott Pilgrim Vs The World. For their full story, check out the Buffalo Springfield Box Set, or maybe a Rolling Stone retrospective article. Archives, Vol. 1 only focuses on the music Neil Young had a major part in writing, even if he didn’t always get to sing on his songs. I think that’s why that way-early demo version of Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing was included on the previous disc – proof that, yo, he did writes the original Buffalo single before he even joined the band.

The songs on Disc 1, Early Years (1966-1968) include such Young staples as Mr. Soul and I Am A Child, plus Bison Shelbyville classics like chipper Burned (think early Beatles), oddball experimental Americana song Broken Arrow (think late Beatles), psychedelic surf-folk jam Kahuna Sunset (think instrumental Beach Boys), and the lovely, floating ballad Expecting To Fly (think... pre-crisis Brian Wilson?). There are also a couple more solo demo outings from Young, I guess included to show his ongoing development as a musician even while as part of a band.

Despite all the promise of a brilliant future, the Buffalo experience was short lived, internal conflicts, clashing egos, and dodgy label shenanigans bringing the band to an abrupt end. Clearly, that wasn’t the end of these musicians’ stories though; otherwise I wouldn’t be reviewing a box set of Neil Young archives.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 0 - Early Years (1963-1965)

Reprise Records: 2009

It figures. No sooner do I finally start on a new letter than I get hit with a bloody box-set. So long, forward momentum. Tackling this sucker will easily eat up a week's worth of reviews. True, I could give a quick overview and be done with it, but as with The Electro Compendium from last year, it'd leave an obscene gap of content on this blog if I didn't keep some record of my progress. Fortunately, Neil Young: Archives is nicely divided up into manageable chunks, so at least things will move along in a logical fashion. Obviously, if you don't give a flookin' Canook about Neil Young, check back in around seven days – I should be back to regular(ish) electronic music again.

You’re still with me? Aww, you're awesome, really you are. Gotta know what's up with some more good ol' Shakey, does ya'? Well, if you stick around, you'll find out just about everything there is to know about the first ten years of Mr. Young's musical career. More than you'll likely care to know, if I'm honest – heck, it was more than I cared about, though it is interesting from a fan's perspective. Whether you got the CD, DVD (yo), or Blu-Ray version of Archives, Vol. 1, everything was split into chronological sections. It also includes Live At The Fillmore East and Live At Massey Hall, which I've covered already; plus his oddball movie Journey Through The Past, but I won't cover that since this isn't Musician Movie Critic. Oh, and Live At Canterbury House was apparently a bonus DVD/Blu-Ray, but since it wasn't part of the original Archives, Vol. 1 MP3 download bundle, I won't cover that either. Whoa, a breeze of wind all of a sudden rushed through my apartment, as though dozens of people breathed a sigh of release.

Okay, let’s get this thing started, by starting at the start of Young’s career – back when he was still young-Young! (eh? eh...? No, wait, come back...). Most were first introduced to ol’ Neil when he was part of the Los Angeles band Buffalo Springfield, but before heading out there, he played for an old-timey surf-rock band called The Squires. Since they were still teens, the boys mostly played high-school dances and community halls around Manitoba and Ontario, hardly the sort of exposure one could hope for breaking into the big time. They did manage one official single with a couple instrumentals called Aurora and The Sultan though. It’s, well, surf-rock. Cowabunga?

Everything else on Early Years (1963-1965) is previously unreleased material. This includes leftover Squires material that never saw the light of day, a few blues numbers he recorded with Comrie Smith, and an extended recording of a studio session featuring early takes of Sugar Mountain and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing. These sound like hastily recorded demos likely intended to spread around Toronto or Motown. Pft, you’ll never make it there with such folksy songs, kid. Go west, my son, go west.

Neil Young - Live At Massey Hall 1971

Reprise Records: 2007

The idea of resurrecting old live gigs was definitely tantalizing to Neil Young fans, given the rumours of how much mint material remained untapped and unheard by public ears in decades. Yet while the first release of this series, Live At The Fillmore East, was cool for what it was, it still felt slight, barely a cursory glance of those particular shows. While I doubt folks would be disappointed if the Performance Series carried on that way, some had to wonder if the format could be improved upon.

Whether by coincidence or design, they got their answer in the second volume, Live At Massey Hall. This show was deemed so good by Young’s long-time producer David Briggs that he pleaded it be released rather than Harvest. Young decided against it, but considering how popular that album went on to be, the Massey Hall recordings must have been incredible. Yeah, it is, though in an unexpected way.

Despite having an established career playing acoustic rock and folk, there’d only been sporadic official live album of this side of Young, and even then with backing musicians. This was the first full concert album of Neil playing just by himself, nothing more than an acoustic guitar and a piano in his arsenal – not even a harmonica shows up!

Such a stripped back performance works well enough for small, intimate venues like coffee houses and cellars, which Young had toured in for some time when he first went solo. By 1971, however, he’d become quite the star, and small, intimate venues were a thing of his past. Yet here he is in Massey Hall playing his music for a large, at times rowdy audience, and treating it as though it was for a group of fifty.

Therein lies Live At Massey Hall’s magic. There’s a real sense of stage isolation while listening to this, Young retreating into his own space as he sings. At times, when he belts out the high notes of Old Man and Down By The River, his voice echoes across the hall, further adding to that sense of remoteness. You can easily picture him surrounded by darkness up there, a single spotlight glowing from above keeping him from disappearing altogether. Despondent songs like Bad Fog Of Loneliness, Tell Me Why, A Man Needs A Maid, and even Cowgirl In The Sand completes the picture, even without the DVD aid of concert footage.

And yet, this all creates a stronger connection to him as a performer, where he’s allowing us into his private domain. It helps that he has a very respectful audience (mostly hippies his age, apparently), enthusiastic between songs, and remarkably quiet when Young sings. Maybe it was unfamiliarity with the music he debuted at this concert (“Heart Of Gold? Never heard of it.”), or maybe it was the Toronto crowd welcoming back a native son. Whichever the case, Live At Massey Hall was an early highlight of the Performance Series, one that’s yet to be repeated.

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 - Le Noise

Reprise Records: 2010

It was about the mid-'aughts that I caught the Rusty bug, but even as ol' Neil continued releasing albums of new material at a good clip that decade, I didn't pay his post-millennial output much heed. I had nearly four prior decades of Young's discography to catch up on, and while press for the likes of Living With War or Chrome Dreams II was positive, I saw little point in catching such albums. They were good, so said the journals, but not going anywhere his classic material hadn't been before. Thus I figured I'd stumble along to Young's 2000s music long after the fact.

Then I heard the early promos for Le Noise. Say, this is different. I’d heard him as a solo guitarist plenty of times, but never with an emphasis on fuzzed-out distortion. Also, what’s with these songs about aged reflection? It’s almost as though his head was in an autobiographical mindset when he wrote them. And hey, Daniel Lanois is the producer? Holy cow, Neil ain’t never get professional producers on his work, always preferring the ragged, first-take approach guys like David Briggs provided. How would a guy known for spacious, perfected studio mixdowns mesh with a rocker known for almost the exact opposite?

Truth be told, Neil Young’s something of a music perfectionist himself, always aiming to capture the spark of his creativity as close to the source as he can. Couple that with an almost insatiable pursuit of discovering the highest-fidelity medium out there (he got no love for MP3s), and pairing up with Lanois isn’t quite so surprising. “Give me space for the music to breathe,” said Neil, “and you can use fancy studio gadgets to take it further.” Sounds good to me, as does Le Noise.

Instead of recording in a traditional studio, they set up a make-shift one at Lanois’ Los Angeles mansion, resulting in a fuller sound as Neil’s guitar tones filled large rooms. Also unique to the project was splitting the guitar into two amps, one for rhythm and one for lead, creating audio separation of the two. As Mr. Young’s never been the most technically proficient guitarist around though, flubbed chords are a consequence of simultaneously playing lead and rhythm. Still, as any longtime Rusty will attest, that’s always been part of his charm. As for Lanois’ production, it remains in the background while Neil sings about relationships (of course), global problems (damn hippie), and his sordid drug history (ooh, tantalizing!). When songs go pure instrumental, however, or during a coda, dubby effects emerge, lending Le Noise to something of a shoegaze feeling, though with a producer doing the sonic manipulation rather than the musician with footpedals.

This album received a ton of accolades when it came out, though I figure more for the concept than the actual content since most songs are typical Neil Young: simple. It’s definitely one of his most unique sounding albums though, and a must-have for anyone willing to take the Rusty plunge.

Neil Young - Harvest Moon

Reprise Records: 1992

Two decades after delivering an album everyone loved, Neil Young finally released a pseudo sequel to Harvest, this here CD titled Harvest Moon. Everyone loved that one too, though aside from the titular song, it didn't quite reach the same level of commercial success. There were undoubtedly many reasons for it – chief among them Harvest Moon's very laid-back country vibes not exactly jiving with mainstream interests in the year 1992 (who cares about that old hippie crooner when we got Michael Bolton serenading the airwaves!) - but like so many albums in Young's discography, it's endured as a proper classic, spawning memorable tunes you're likely to still hear in concert during his acoustic moments.

Funny thing is, though the idea behind Harvest Moon sounds like a shoo-in, it likely wouldn't have happened had circumstances nearly forced him into making the album. Consider: Young had had twenty years to round up The Stray Gators again, take a trip to Nashville, and deliver an album full of charming, radio-friendly country-rock folk. Yet he never did, his occasional trips to the mid-west finding him exploring proper-country instead; only a few of the original session musicians were brought in for those albums. So what convinced him to finally do what his fans wanted for years upon years?

Hearing damage, mostly. Following the raucous Weld tour with Crazy Horse, Young’d developed a bad case of tinnitus, forcing him to tone his music down for a while. Okay, and a two decade anniversary wasn't such a bad incentive either.

That said, he couldn't exactly repeat Harvest. Aside from generally better production (such lush echo and reverb here!), the lyrics and themes Young was exploring as he neared his fifties were quite different compared to topics of 1972. Condemnations of southern States attitudes? That's small time stuff compared to global issues like war (War Of Man) and environmentalism (Natural Beauty). Also, how could he write songs about forlorn love when he’d been happily married for years? Just won’t work anymore, so instead we have music reflecting on the friendships he’s had (From Hand To Hendrix, One Of These Days, and, um, his dog in Old King), the relationship he’s in (Harvest Moon and Such A Woman), and perhaps even where he may end up (You And Me). Fairly broad topics, all said, but Young has a way of making them feel intimate, as either a window into his own feelings, or as a message for those who can relate to his lyrics.

In the Harvest review, I quipped that many Boomers likely turned to that album as post-partying comfort music. I’ll freely admit that Harvest Moon has served a similar purpose for myself on occasion, a nostalgic calm even for things I’ve yet to experience. That, in a nutshell, is why Young’s endured for so long: writing music that isn’t bound by specific generations, but by earnest, human feelings, and he’s at his best here. No matter the age, someone will find something relatable in Harvest Moon.

Neil Young - Harvest

Reprise Records: 1972

The only Neil Young album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Neil Young fan. Or at least, that was the assumed case waaaayyy back in the ‘70s, when all his Boomer fans would turn to Harvest’s charming, laid-back good ol’ country rock vibes to ease themselves from whatever bad trip they might be suffering from (citation needed). I can’t even think of what album could be considered “the only Neil Young album you’re supposed to have” now, as the man’s musical career’s all over the place. True, there are releases that are good representations of what he’s capable of (After The Goldrush, Rust Never Sleeps, Sleeps With Angels, any live album), but you’re almost always missing out on some aspect of his career. Even Archives, Vol. 1 only reached as far as Harvest, which capped off the first ten years of ol’ Neil making music. Holy shit, he’s been doing this for a freakin’ half-century now, hasn’t he!

Anyhow, what Harvest definitely became was Mr. Young’s most popular album, likely because it was also one of his best selling ones, especially in ’merica, where they love those home-grown country-rock tunes. Just, sshhh, don’t remind them he’s actually Canadian.

The big hits off here were Heart Of Gold, Old Man, and The Needle And The Damage Done. That last one isn’t even two-minutes long, a brief, somber reflection dedicated to those he saw losing their lives to drug addictions. The first two though, hoo boy, were they ever major tunes at the time. You’ll still hear them on the radio, though whether a rock or country one, I’m not sure – that banjo bit in Old Man definitely would sound out of place along all that Led Zeppelin and Rolling Stones. And Heart Of Gold, you’ve heard it. No, really, I can guarantee you’ve heard a version of it at some point. Heck, I heard it long before I even knew who Neil Young was, when Boney M covered it on their Nightflight To Venus album I frequently played as a child. Hey, maybe that’s where this Young obsession stems from!

As for Harvest, the album, it’s definitely one of Young’s odder collection of songs. The old-timey country bits (and hits) were put together at Nashville with ridiculously talented session musicians he dubbed The Stray Gators (seriously, Ben Keith’s pedal steel guitar work almost steals the whole album). A short while later, Young brought the group out to a barn at the ranch he’d recently purchased, and recorded one-take rockier tunes on the fly. In between, he got to record a couple songs with the London Symphony Orchestra, lending almost ridiculous bombast to an album that typically comes off down to earth.

Predictably, Harvest ends up quite a slap-dash listening experience, even for a Young album. It may have been his most popular effort, but as you can find most of these tunes elsewhere now (and in stronger renditions), it’s not the most essential purchase anymore.

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 - Freedom

Reprise Records: 1989

Even for my generation, I came to the Neil Young Wagon rather late. My first proper exposure was during his Harvest Moon period, when you couldn't escape that song's video on MuchMusic. For quite a few more of my demographic, however, they'd been hip to the old rocker since the late '80s, when they either learned of Young's initially banned-from-MTV video This Note's For You, or the rousing follow-up chart hit Rockin' In The Free World. I probably heard it at some point, but I was more into The Beach Boys in those years.

More so, Young was getting named dropped as a major influence by several up-and-coming alt-rock and grunge acts like Sonic Youth, The Pixies, and such. Growing inspired by this new legion of noise makers, ol' Neil dropped his current blues outfit and gathered a few chaps for a straight-up rock session, the results of which became the rare Eldorado EP, limited to only five-thousand copies and not sold in America. Da'fuq?

Oh well, most of those songs showed up on his next full-length, Freedom, and thank God they did, 'cause they're some of the most kick-ass music he’d made since the early '80s Crazy Horse album Re-Ac-Tor. Though his wonderful mess of noise occurs on songs On Broadway, No More, and Eldorado, Don’t Cry’s a real highlight for that sound, twice featuring a blistering wall of incredible distortion (having an industrial clank as part of the rhythm’s hilarious too!).

But Freedom wouldn’t have been considered a comeback album if it’d been a bunch of noisy rock. Young’s musical appeal was broad, many enjoying his folksy side along with forays into country and blues. This album has it all, which is a win-loss situation, depending on where you stand on such things. Me, I’m all for a little pleasant folk like Hangin’ On A Limb, plus the lengthy blues-rock Crime In The City’s great if you enjoy tales of everyday people (Eldorado’s awesome for this too, though obviously with more of a Mexican bent). Heck I don’t even mind the country tunes The Ways Of Love and Too Far Gone - Young’s about the only guy I can stand doing country, for some reason (probably because it’s Neil F’n Young). Unfortunately, two of his ballads - Someday and Wrecking Ball - are pants, especially so the former, coming off like an incredibly weak mid-‘80s country ditty (okay, not everything he does turns out). Really, the whole album has that “only in the ‘80s” production sheen to it, though not nearly as bad as many other releases of that decade.

So obviously I’d recommend Freedom if you’re looking to get acquainted with ol’ Neil, but aside from Rockin’ In The Free World, there aren’t any all-time classics on here. It’s probably more enjoyed after indulging in a greatest hits package or something, to find out if his style of music’s even your taste. While Freedom does have something for everyone, it’s unlikely everyone will enjoy it all.