Neil Young

Of all the rock stars I’ve admired, I think Neil Young is the most approachable, relatable and just plain human. I’ve always seen him as a regular guy who had the courage to follow his muse. It turned out he was an artist of rare sensitivity and profound performance skills. When I first moved to Denver in 1968, one of the first places my brother took me was Underground Records on 724 So. Pearl Street. Twenty years later, I would buy that store at a tax auction and turn it into Twist and Shout, but back in the day I bought my first bootleg LP there. It was called Young Man’s Fancy Live On Sugar Mountain. I still have it; in fact - I'm listening to it as I write this. It still sounds great. I was already a fan of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Déjà vu, but hearing him speak in that same quavery voice he sang with was extraordinary. And the unreleased songs like “See The Sky About To Rain” and “Love In Mind” blew my mind. It’s been a long affair. I’ve never lost interest in Neil and have excitedly awaited every new release over the years. He’s had so many peaks in his career. After the initial run of classics there was the Ditch Trilogy, Rust Never Sleeps, Ragged Glory, Harvest Moon, Sleeps With Angels, Psychedelic Pill. Just like Dylan, Neil has defied expectations and surpassed my hopes so many times. During the recent pandemic madness, the kaleidoscopic depth of his website (https://neilyoungarchives.com/) has provided a daily balm to the negativity all around. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen him in concert, but many of them have been highlights. 

Some of the best:

-C.U. Fieldhouse, November ’76 w/ Crazy Horse - blistering through material from his mid-period masterpiece Zuma, the energy just poured off the stage.

-McNichols Arena, 1978, Rust Never Sleeps tour - entire audience is handed 3-D glasses so they can see the band rust in real time. With oversized props and everyone wearing the glasses it was surreal.

-Cheyenne Frontier Days, 1984, International Harvesters tour - pouring rain, Neil and his band played a total hoedown.

-Red Rocks, Freedom Tour - A fog-shrouded stage revealed Neil by himself opening and closing with "Rockin’ In The Free World."

-Red Rocks, Alchemy Tour - Neil’s manager Elliot Roberts (one of the coolest guys ever- may he rest in peace) arranged for a few record store owners to meet Neil in Elliot’s tour bus after an incendiary 2 1/2 hour guitar-fest. We sat on the bust admiring Elliot’s orange plastic bong, when Neil came bounding in full of energy and enthusiasm. He looked amazing and was totally friendly and excited to talk about his new Pono device. After a couple of questions from me he realized I had concerns about the Pono cutting traditional retail out of his music. Instead of being taken aback, you could see the wheels turning in his head and he said, “Well, we’ll still make you records and Blu-Rays - nothing sounds better than that.” He was so gracious and open. My party walked off that bus two feet off the ground. We knew we had been in the presence of not only a great artist but a truly kind human soul.

Through each new album, every tour, the books and movies, even the technology projects Neil has been an artistic and spiritual companion to me since the 1960’s and he means more to me each year. I hope he never stops!

- Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On #215 - Neil Young – On The Beach

Neil Young’s 1974 album On The Beach marked the middle of what has become known as his “ditch trilogy,” whereby he deliberately drove his career (on a major high after the one-two punches of CSNY and his own top 10 album Harvest) off the road to success and into a ditch of excess. Although recorded after the even bleaker Tonight’s The Night (his most controversial and emotionally raw album), and the somewhat baffling live album Time Fades Away (which contained all new material played in a ragged, almost haphazard style), On The Beach was released before, thus preparing the public for the darkness to come. While the production was comparatively crude, and Neil’s voice sometimes reduced to a pained howl, I have always found On The Beach to be one of Neil’s most honest and personally affecting albums. In many ways, the startling image on the cover tells much of the story. We see Neil, dressed in a thrift store leisure suit, his back to the camera, facing the ocean of Zuma Beach, while in the foreground are the accoutrement of a burned-out, artificial and pointless society: a potted palm, gaudy patio furniture, a crumpled newspaper with the headline Senator Buckley Wants Nixon To Resign, the back fins of a vintage Cadillac stick out of the sand like some weirdo, hipster version of the Statue Of Liberty from Planet Of The Apes and a couple of Coors tall-boys stand by like dead soldiers. Surreal in the extreme, the image also seems to sum up an age of Watergate, Vietnam, disillusion and the shattered hippie dream with tremendous clarity. It remains my favorite album cover.

As for the music - its stature grows in my mind’s ear with each passing year. On The Beach contains some of Neil Young’s most reflective and intelligent songs, set in rough-hewn settings that are alternately fragile to the point of breaking or roar with the anguish of a lost soul screaming in the wilderness. Let’s look at it song by song.

Side One

"Walk On" - The closest thing resembling a pop song on the album, this irresistible gem has a perfectly crushing guitar hook, exquisite slide guitar by Ben Keith and a rock-solid rhythm section provided by Crazy Horse alums Ralph Molina and Billy Talbot. The lyrics are an anthem for the disaffected hippies facing the cold realities of a new decade.

"See The Sky About To Rain" - A lovely ballad dominated by Neil’s cracked falsetto, memorable Wurlitzer playing, and, again, Ben Keith’s sympathetic steel. An ominous sentiment of lost dreams almost anyone can understand. Neil has an uncanny ability to poetically conflate natural phenomena with manmade turmoil. He never did it better than this one.

"Revolution Blues" - The most strident song on the album, this tale of an apocalyptic L.A. filled with psycho murderers (“10 million dune buggies coming down the mountain.” “I’m a barrel of laughs with my carbine on”) and a doomed, vacuous celebrity culture (“well I heard that Laurel Canyon is full of famous stars/well I hate them worse than lepers and I’ll kill them in their cars”). There’s obviously some insider-baseball irony here as he had recently married his second Hollywood starlet. The rancor feels real and fresh here though. Musically, the song is a barnburner with David Crosby and Young going on the warpath guitar-wise, while Rick Danko’s fretless bass slides the song along like mercury.

"For The Turnstiles" - A harrowing plea for sanity and understanding in a world that makes no sense. A spare recording of just Neil’s banjo and Ben Keith’s lonesome dobro and the two of them yelping like scalded dogs.

"Vampire Blues" - One of the fuller productions on the album, it features a classic, nerve-shattering guitar solo by Neil and some woozy organ work by Ben Keith, who, you may have noticed by now is the secret weapon on this album. Neil decries the petroleum industry as vampires “suckin’ blood from the earth.” The song is both moving and incredibly prescient. Oh yeah, and it rocks hard.

Side Two

"On The Beach" - One of the most hypnotic songs he ever committed to wax, Neil weighs the relative pros and cons of fame and fortune, discovering that’s it all pretty much nowheresville (“I went to the radio interview, but I ended up alone here at the microphone.”)  In the meantime the song staggers along like a lonely drunk in a dark alleyway. Neil lets loose with a couple of last-shred-of-sanity guitar solos and guess who adds the crucial backing with a simple hand drum part? Ben Keith of course.

"Motion Pictures (For Carrie)" - No question what this one is about. His relationship with actress Carrie Snodgrass had hit the skids, and he was broken. A beautifully touching ballad informed with equal parts heartbreak and scorn (“all those headlines they just bore me now”). Gently acoustic with a lovely harmonica solo and some great slide guitar by Rusty Kershaw.

"Ambulance Blues" - “Back in the old folkie days/The air was magic when we played” Neil comes to grips with the passage of time in this epic tale of days and friends lost. “Old Mother Goose, she’s on the skids” he moans as he contemplates lost innocence and the reality of now. “I guess I’ll call it sickness gone/It’s hard to say the meaning of this song/An ambulance can only go so fast/It’s easy to get buried in the past/When you try to make a good thing last.” Not that many artists have looked at their own lives and legacies with such an honest and jaundiced eye. But he’s not just tough on himself: “So all you critics sit alone/ You’re no better than me for what you’ve shown/ With your stomach pump and your hook and ladder dreams/ We could get together for some scenes.” It’s hard to imagine an artist who actually likes critics, but Neil spares no quarter in eviscerating them. In one song, he closes the curtain on the magic trick of 60’s idealism. A profoundly disturbing yet highly enlightening song.

On The Beach ends on that bleak and honest assessment of Neil Young’s own self-worth and place in the popular music cosmology. While not exactly uplifting in subject matter, the album succeeds wildly in terms of being an accurate snapshot of a great artist at a pivotal point in his career. This is not the only time he has done this, in fact it could be argued that more than any other modern artist, Neil Young has honestly bared his soul to his public for better or worse. He doesn’t shy away from the reality of his feelings, and, remarkably, the music he produces reflects that reality with clarity and beauty, lifting it from the merely confessional to the profoundly artistic.

- Paul Epstein

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #148 – Neil Young’s Rust Never Sleeps and Human Highway

Neil Young gave us the best description of himself and his music in the title of his 1968 song “I Am A Child.” The magic and genius of Neil Young is that the child-like sense of wonder and fun never left him or his music. Not then, not now (listen to his superbly weird new album Earth for proof of that) and certainly not in 1978 when he filmed Rust Never Sleeps and began principle filming of Human Highway. Both of these films are direct references to Young’s childhood. They are depictions of a man-child adrift in a confusing world of corrupt adult motivations. Neil sees himself as a little boy alone in an oversized world of dangerous machines and corrupt values. He wields his guitar and his voice (like the sharp cutting tools they are) against the inconsistencies and absurdities of the world: environmental genocide, slimy record label creeps, military-industrial capitalists, even the double-edged sword of his own fame. The movies outwardly seem like they are totally different, but a close look shows them to be two views of the same scene.

Human Highway was ultimately released in 1982 to little or no fanfare. It was given a brief art-house and midnight movie run and then essentially shelved for a long time. The negative public and critical reception at the time of its release is not surprising because it is a kaleidoscopic mash-up of ideas and images loosely held together with a cartoonish plot about a small town loser named Lionel Switch who…does some stuff and uh, meets some people and uh….yeah - what happens doesn’t really matter because the overall effect of the movie is that of an 80 minute MTV-style video starring Young, Devo and a number of Hollywood B-listers, (Dennis Hopper, Dean Stockwell, Sally Kirkland) romping around colorful sets and singing weird songs and making vaguely political statements about nuclear energy and dangerous militarism during the heart of the cold war. The movie is actually quite entertaining if you like Neil Young, and possibly unbearable if you don’t. Although there are a few set pieces like the hilarious “Worried Man Blues” or Neil and Devo performing a wild version of “Hey Hey, My My,” the movie’s real value is as a backdrop to Rust Never Sleeps, the concert documentary Young was filming at the same time he was working on Human Highway.

Upon release, Rust Never Sleeps was universally acclaimed as one of the best concert movies ever made and absolutely nothing has happened in the ensuing 38 years to do anything but enhance that reputation. It remains a completely riveting portrait of an artist at the height of his creativity; simultaneously reveling in past glory and coming to grips with the historical crossroads that will place him directly in the crosshairs of a cultural battle.

Like many of his generation, Neil Young was viewed with skepticism by the punk rock world, and in turn the baby boom generation that Young had so eloquently represented in his earlier years cast a suspicious eye on the nihilistic tendencies of the punks. But unlike so many others, Young did not shy away from the subject, writing an anthem for that crossroads generation, “Hey Hey, My My” (“Out Of The Blue/Into The Black”), which challenged them (and himself) to either get into it or get out of the way. It was bold and a little shocking to many longtime listeners. He also imbued his latest music, highlighted in the movie, with a manic punk-like energy fans had never seen before. Songs like “Sedan Delivery,” “Welfare Mothers” and “Hey Hey, My My” scream with a fury that belies Young’s status as one of the major figures of mellow contemporary rock. In fact every aspect of the performances in this movie show an artist ready to move forward instead of rely on past glory. Even many of his most iconic songs like “Tonight’s The Night,” “When You Dance,” “The Loner” and especially “Cortez The Killer” are given a reinvigorated treatment.

Rust Never Sleeps doesn’t only succeed as a concert documentary, it is also a high concept film with the narrative again revolving around Neil’s own view of himself as a child in a grown-up world. The normal stage gear: amplifiers, tuners, microphones etc. are all covered with oversized prop versions of themselves which dwarf the band. Neil himself opens the show lying on top of an amplifier in a giant sleeping bag like a kid waking up in the back yard.  The set is peppered with gags about being a child, and soundbites from the movie, Woodstock, which further the agenda of a little boy lost in an oversized environment. From the opening acoustic strums of “Sugar Mountain” and “I Am A Child” through to the final crunching riffs of “Like A Hurricane” and “Tonight’s The Night,” Neil and Crazy Horse deliver like never before. It is an absolute primer on why Neil Young is so great.

Taken as bookends to Neil’s momentous 1978, these two movies present one of the strongest arguments for creative freedom. Given control of his own destiny, Neil Young was able to produce a lasting monument to growth and the creative process.

-         Paul Epstein

Several Species Of Small Furry Thoughts - My Journey Home With Neil Young

When I first heard Neil Young’s latest album A Letter Home I was taken aback by this faint sounding bunch of covers. It was clearly Neil, and these were songs I was happy to hear him play, but the quality of the recording was so primitive. I just couldn’t get over it. Why would he do this? I had only listened to the LP at this point and there lies the crux of the problem. To fully "get" this album, one has to get the deluxe version and watch the DVD. As soon as the video comes to life, one enters a very special session where Neil Young and Jack White embark on an emotional and technological voyage together. Somehow Jack White has managed to get the world’s only working example of a “Record Your Voice” booth; a boardwalk attraction from the 1920’s that looks like a phone booth and allows any person to sing a song and leave with a hastily pressed record. The records that the booth itself produced (which also come in the deluxe version) sound even worse than the LP but are interesting artifacts. So here is this piece of ancient technology, and Neil Young decides to record a bunch of old favorite songs on it. Seems simple enough.

When you pop in the DVD however, there is a seamless mixture of black and white footage whenever Neil is in the booth, but as soon as he steps out it turns to sumptuous color footage. The audio is also much better. Neil essentially takes you through the process with him. We see that his songs are too long to fit on the little automatic records, thus they are running a line out of the booth so some editing can take place. Suddenly I realized I was loving this album. Going inside the creative process with these two great musicians is a rare and wonderful privilege. And make no mistake – Jack White’s imprint is all over this album. He joins Neil on a couple of songs, singing harmony, playing piano even playing lead guitar on one song. He is also clearly playing the role of chief engineer and producer. His deep involvement makes this an essential item for Jack White fans as much as Neil Young lovers.

As for the material; it is really hard to find fault with songs like Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain” or “If You Could Read My Mind,” Phil Ochs’ “Changes,” Tim Hardin’s “Reason To Believe,” Dylan’s “Blowin’ In The Wind,” etc. The songs all clearly mean a lot to Neil and for the most part he plays them straight and folksy without doing much to make them modern. And the direct connection to his earlier days is really the point here. Perhaps the most poignant and important parts of the whole recording are the two spoken-word pieces he includes. They are short letters to his dead mother. He explains what he and Jack are doing; playing the songs he used to play when he lived with her on Grosvenor Ave. as a teen in Canada. In the most touching moments Neil asks his mother to talk to his father in heaven. They were divorced long before their deaths, but Neil is trying to fix things for them in the afterlife. “Remember to talk to Daddy” he pleads. This is a very important milestone in Neil Young’s career. In a totally non-commercial move he tips his hat to his heroes, his own past and tries to fill some holes in a broken heart.

- Paul Epstein

On The Cover: Neil Young's After The Gold Rush By Nathan Barsness of Fingers Of The Sun

Twist and Shout presents On The Cover, a new monthly live series at Hi-dive featuring local bands covering influential and classic albums, from start to finish.

 We offered Nathan Barsness of Fingers Of The Sun a chance to tell us why he loved Neil Young's After the Gold Rush album and why he chose to cover it with his band, so read on, and be sure to catch the first ever On The Cover live series on July 31st!

Something that’s always struck me about Neil Young’s music is its intuitiveness. The emotional content of the lyrics are clear and the music drives the point home with a sort of unschooled, but supremely confident, simplicity. It has inspired my approach to songwriting over the years, reminding me to trust my instincts, not over-think my choices, and keep the feel of the song itself at the center of all of my creative decisions—even if it requires sacrificing technique.

When Langdon Winner of Rolling Stone reviewed After the Gold Rush in 1970, he described the album as “half-baked” and went onto say that it sounded as if the songs were recorded before they were properly rehearsed. Though that may be true from a purely technical standpoint, Winner missed the point. With After the Gold Rush Neil Young captured a specific time and place in his life as a person and an artist. What we are left with as listeners is a snapshot of the emotions and energy of that time and place. That’s part of why the album stands up after all of these years: it is genuine.

Thanks to my dad’s almost fanatical love of Young, I have been steeped in his meandering, folk-rock sound since my ears formed in the womb. But it wasn't until my late teens when I first picked up a guitar and formed a band that I began to realize what an innovator Neil Young was. What interested me at the time was the way he could pack so much emotion into such simple music. Songs like “Cowgirl in the Sand” and “Down by the River” were basically raw jams where Crazy Horse would repeat a basic, two-chord progression, while Young soloed over the top. It was inspiring to realize that with only basic musical knowledge (E minor 7, A major, REPEAT—as heard in “Down by the River”) you could not only make a complete song, but a potentially epic song. A perfect recipe for a 16 year old with a guitar and almost no training.

After the Gold Rush doesn’t have those extended two-chord jams, but it remains a great example of simple, non-technical music, that still communicates an almost unbelievable amount of feeling. It’s the kind of album that continues to inspire me, a constant reminder that the exploration of what a song can do is never finished. When Langdon Winner criticized what he perceived as the technical shortcomings of the album, what he missed was that those technical shortcomings were exactly what gave that album its abundance of emotion, its vibe, the intangible thing about it that keeps people coming back 40+ years later.

A perfect example of Winner missing the point is his criticism of the album’s title track. “Apparently no one bothered to tell Neil Young that he was singing a half octave above his highest acceptable range,” he wrote of “After the Gold Rush,” with its plaintive vocal and minimalist arrangement. At his best, Neil Young has a way of writing songs that sound as if they came into the world in their complete and final form. Listening to it now as a songwriter I get the feeling that Neil sat at a piano, put his hands on the keyboard, and wrote it in ten minutes of pure, unfiltered inspiration. Maybe the key that required him to sing “a half octave above his highest acceptable range” was the result of where his hands first landed when he sat down to write the song. And the fact that Young would trust his muse and take a chance on sounding slightly off on his vocals is one of the main reasons he remains an inspiration.

Similarly, Winner criticizes “Southern Man” for sounding “sloppy and disconnected,” where to me it sounds like it was recorded by a band that learned the song the very day it was recorded and nailed it. Young's guitar solo on the track has all the bite, grit, and energy of a first take. The difference between my view and Winner’s is only that, for me, that first take’s energy and uncertainty is what makes the track. It’s sloppy, but true.

Funny enough, earlier in 1970 Neil Young explained his process to another Rolling Stone writer, Elliot Blinder. He said that, for him, playing live in the studio captures the excitement of the moment and allows the musicians to react to each other in real time. In interviews he consistently talks about the “mood” or “spirit” of the recordings he’s been a part of and how the recording process (whether live or overdubbed) affects the final recordings. As an example he said that the differences between the Beatles and the Stones can be explained in part by the fact that the Beatles overdubbed (that is, recorded in pieces, often one instrument at a time) constantly, while the Stones preferred to play live in the studio.

I think that’s a good point and would go even farther in explaining my view of After the Gold Rush: It’s more like a field recording of some forgotten tribe’s traditional songs than a meticulously crafted, Sgt. Pepper-style concept album. It wasn’t meant to be built up, edited, and perfected, it was meant to share with us a particular time and place, while eliminating any distraction from the process of communicating the real, basic, human feelings at the heart of each song.

Several Species Of Small Furry Thoughts

I had a great weekend last week. I went to Cleveland and saw The Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame. It is hard to describe what a powerful and exhilarating experience this was. Two things made me want to go in the first place. Fist was I recently read the late Harvey Pekar’s chronicle of the history of Cleveland and found it fascinating. I also noticed that the Rock Hall was doing a major exhibit on The Grateful Dead that was ending in January. I wanted to see that, and when I saw Neil Young and Crazy Horse had a date in Cleveland in October I decided it was time to do it. The Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame is something that every one of you should put on your list of things to see. If you are a Dead Head make it quick before their exhibit ends. The Dead Exhibit had all kinds of stuff you’ve never seen; Jerry’s stage outfit from Monterey Pop, handwritten lyrics of the unreleased song “Equinox,” four of Jerry’s guitars, the original paintings used for the covers of Live Dead, “Tiger Rose” and the back cover of Workingman’s Dead, the poster from the first show of The Warlocks, the Ampex Reels of 2-14-70 - and on and on- two whole rooms dedicated to rare and unseen memorabilia. And the rest of the Hall was, for me, the experience of a lifetime. I’m not going to bother telling you about individual displays (well John Lennon’s Mellotron was pretty special), but after walking around for over 6 hours I felt like I did when I was first discovering Rock music. It was amazing to see all the stuff that means so much to me being presented in a completely respectful and adult fashion. From the I.M. Pei building, to the interactive displays, to the thoughtful movie presentations in the Hall’s three theatres to endless amounts of historic, cultural and fetishistic artifacts, it was one gigantic hug and thumbs–up to music fans. It was like the real world saying - “Yes, you were right, Rock and Roll IS here to stay, and here’s the proof.” I just can’t recommend it enough.

 

 Next up, it was Neil Young and Crazy Horse. I was curious how the show would compare to his masterful set at Red Rocks in July. I also had just finished Neil’s autobiography Waging Heavy Peace so I was extra psyched-up to see him again. The show was musically very similar to Red Rocks, with a few new songs from his forthcoming album Psychedelic Pill (out October 30^th) replaced with different new songs, but overall it was another feedback-drenched electric fest that largely revolved around the half-dozen or so new songs he was obviously excited to play. The big difference was the stage setting, which incorporated oversized props from the Rust Never Sleeps, Weld and Rusted Out Garage tours to lend the proceedings a surreal, childlike ambience. These new songs are some of his most autobiographical and heartfelt in a long while. The process of writing the book obviously had a big effect on him, and the album almost seems like a companion piece, or an illustration of the things he talks about in the book.

As for the book, I found it to be one of the most enjoyable rock books I’ve read. Not because it was a shocking tell-all or because it revealed so many facts about Neil Young I didn’t know, but rather because it is told in such a straight-forward and clear narrative voice. No doubt Neil wrote every word of this book. There are two major take-aways from Waging Heavy Peace; Neil Young is a very uncomplicated guy, and Neil Young is a very complicated guy. Yes - his actions are sometimes hard to understand, but through the clear prose and emotional directness of his writing, Neil takes the reader on a trip through his own hobbies, obsessions, regrets and joys (all of which are pretty direct) and draws a picture of a thoughtful, brilliant, stubborn, eccentric but ultimately normal guy. Early on he realized he was serving the music not vice-versa and this realization and his ability to hold on to that thought seems to explain his remarkable career. He is an ordinary guy with average guy desires who has forged an extraordinary life of above-average dreams. He has stuck to his guns and as a result he is the envy of almost every other musician. Every musician wishes they could dictate their own career the way Neil Young does, and almost none have matched his sustained genius at making records and mounting tours. He is singular in his achievement, yet he seems just like you or me when he talks about his joys and sorrows as a working man, a family man, a nostalgic man, bound and determined to move into the future with purpose. Like almost everything he has done in his career, Waging Heavy Peace does not fully represent Neil Young, or explain what makes him so magical, but it is one more piece of the puzzle to an endlessly fascinating man.

Paul Epstein

Several Species Of Small Furry Thoughts: Whatta Week!

This was one for the books. Midday Monday my good friends who own two of the best independent record stores in the country (Fingerprints in Long Beach and Park Ave. CDs in Orlando) hit town for a week of relaxation and a couple of shows at Red Rocks. Little did we know it would turn into one of the most memorable music weeks ever! First up was Neil Young and Crazy Horse’s triumphant return to Red Rocks. After Neil’s health scare a few years ago, and his use of bands other than Crazy Horse, it seemed like he might never fully rock again. All worries were set aside the minute he walked on stage and blasted into “Love and Only Love” from his sonic assault of an album Ragged Glory and then blasted right into “Powderfinger.” It was obvious Neil and The Horse were firing on all cylinders, as the volume was high and the guitar solos fierce. Through the night Neil played at least six brand new songs. He has stopped using the flowery prose of the poet and exchanged it for the carefully worded language of the journalist. He has just finished work on his autobiography and each song felt like a chapter, describing parts of his life. The details were touching as he recounted “walking like a giant” as a young man in the 60’s and now, “floating like a leaf on a stream.” It was a different style of writing for Neil, but it felt completely appropriate and fitting for a man his age. The two plus hour show traversed a lot of territory, but it was all fully satisfying. I don’t think anyone went away unhappy as the band galloped through new and old material with a renewed energy and purpose. One of the other record store owners I was with had a connection and after the show we got to go on the tour bus and talk to Neil and his long-time manager Elliot Roberts. Neil is psyched up about sound innovation and is deeply involved in some real cutting edge technological advances that might just change the way we hear music. He was animated and funny and brilliant and pretty much everything you hope for when meeting your heroes. He also looked great; he was thin and clear-eyed and just full of creative energy. We walked off the bus about a half-hour later floating on air.

 Click Here for “Walk Like A Giant” & “Born In Ontario” show footage

Next we had a day off from concerts, but I did bring my friends to our Chris Daniels in-store on Tuesday night. Again, this was another moving and profoundly musically satisfying experience as local legend Chris Daniels brought it all home with a beautiful 35-minute performance of songs from his new “album of a lifetime” Better Days. Chris has gone through a brutal battle with Leukemia over the past couple of years and has thankfully come through it and delivered his most emotionally satisfying set of songs ever. He opened with the funny and timely “Medical Marijuana,” but quickly got down to business offering stunning versions of some of the heaviest material on the album. His band, which consisted of some truly great veterans of the Denver music scene (Randy Amen: drums and vocal, Kevin Legge: bass, Chris Daniels: guitar and vocal, Clay Kirkland: harp (harmonica), Sean McGowen: guitar, Andrea McGowen: vocal) just tore it up, and reminded us that Chris is not only a fabulous musician, singer, songwriter, but he is also one of the most accomplished band leaders the state has ever known. Several of the younger, hipper employees at Twist and Shout singled this in-store out as their favorite ever because of both the superb level of musicianship and the resonant nature of his songs as well. We felt emotionally drained and buoyed at the same time, which is what great art is supposed to do to you. We are all lucky to have Chris Daniels in our midst.

Wednesday comes and it is Jack White fever at Twist and Shout. Rumors of a secret gig at Twist are rampant even though we haven’t heard anything about it. I bring my friends by the store, and we were all surprised at the sight of a line of White Stripes fans outside just in case it happens. The store is hopping with people checking it all out and it feels like a holiday. It seems like it probably isn’t going to happen so we decide to check out the new Clyfford Still museum. This is another great addition to Denver’s cultural quiver, and something for us all to be proud of. As we left the exhibit about two hours later I called the store and asked if there had been any Jack White sightings. An employee told me they had just heard that the show was going to take place at an auto-detailing store on west Colfax. He gave a brief description where, but no information about time. On a lark, we decided to head to that part of town and just see what we saw. As soon as we approached Colfax and Federal I could see a crowd and then I saw the Third Man Records traveling record store truck. Holy shit, this might actually happen! We quickly parked and as we were walking over to the crowd of about 300 people we heard a roar go up. We got there just as Jack White and his band launched into four incredibly high-energy songs…in a parking lot…on Colfax. It was one of the most thrilling, spontaneous, guerilla rock and roll moments I have ever experienced. You could tell the crowd was all pinching themselves in disbelief. It was truly surreal and an all-time high for this long-time White Stripes fan. 

We floated up to Red Rocks that night and witnessed a mighty Jack White show that covered all his bands and proved without a doubt that Jack White is one of the heirs apparent to the legacy of great rock stars. His show was brash and ballsy and hit all the right notes. He sang great, soloed beautifully on guitar and led his large all-female band through a tight and satisfying set. The whole experience with Mr. White showed what an incredible grasp of his own career he has. He stormed into Denver and made everyone’s life just a little bit more fun and interesting. This guy gets it!

As we crawled back to Denver that night my heart was swollen with pride for the amazing music town we - all us fans - have created. It is truly miraculous that we live in such a great place with such an awesome music scene. Here’s to US. 

- by Paul Epstein 

Fables of the Reconstruction: CSNY Solo

I listened to the solo albums David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and Neil Young released in 1970 and 1971 back to back in order of release, and then tried to listen to the first Crosby, Stills and Nash album, but I couldn’t make it all the way through. It was too happy, too confident in the power of love. The four solo records had taken me through waves of emotion stirred up in the wake of love, and I just didn’t have the stomach for a bunch of sunny songs sung by younger men who still believed that love could last forever and save the world.
            Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush came out first, at the end of August 1970, and it sets the tone for the three that would follow with the third track on side one, “Only Love Can Break Your Heart.” Legend has it he wrote the song for Nash after Nash’s breakup with Joni Mitchell. But it comes across as a rebuttal to the declarations that “love is coming to us all” and “everybody, I love you” on CSNY’s Deja Vu, released in March of the same year. It’s a caveat: Love’s as likely to crush you as save you. And it’s an advancement of the whole CSNY artistic project, the move away from the top-heavy tangle of psychedelic to the infinite simplicity of the song -- as though Young is telling his idealistic buddies that there’s nothing deeper and truer than a good old heartbreak song.

            Crosby, Stills and Nash seem to have taken his advice with their solo projects, and probably not by choice. These were sorrowful times for all three of them, with Stills and Nash suffering recent breakups and Crosby losing his love in a car crash. Judging by these records, they each had their own way of dealing with lost love. Stills’s self-titled album, which came out in mid-November 1970, paints a portrait of a man fond of the lust remedy for heartache, and not only because of the opening track, the free-love anthem “Love the One You’re With.” His record is consistently sexier than his friends’, with BIG production, dirty blues solos, deep-funk bass lines, a bit of wah-wah pedal and even an appearance by Jimi Hendrix. Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name came out a few months later and shows a man in the throes of the anger stage of grief, especially on “Cowboy Movie,” a long, low, growling ballad about a band of outlaws betrayed by a woman, and “What Are Their Names,” where the lyrics are about peace but the dark, driving music carries a threat of violence. But below the anger is pain, which comes through on the vocals, the harmonies of “Music Is Love,” “Tamalpais High (At About 3),” “Orleans,” and, above all, on "I'd Swear There Was Somebody Here,” the album’s closing number that Crosby sung in an echo chamber while very high and he felt his dead girlfriend’s presence. It’s like primal scream therapy, only beautiful. There’s a similar intensity of pain Nash’s voice on Songs for Beginners, which came out in May 1971, but the record leans relentlessly toward the positive and encouraging. In interviews, Nash has said he wanted to offer a record that would help people, and he’s certainly done that here. If I ever suffer real heartbreak again, this is the album I’ll play over and over, especially side one, with its quadruple punch of heartfelt pep talks in “Better Days,” “Wounded Bird” (“In the end it’s with you you have to live”), “I Used to Be a King,” and the triumphant closer with a full choir: “Be Yourself.” “I Used to Be a King” electrifies my emotions every time I hear it, my nerves tingling as the chorus rolls around and Graham declares, “Someone is going to take my heart, no one is going to break my heart again!”
            After going through all that, the first Crosby, Stills and Nash record sounded quaint at best. And it’s a great album, always in heavy rotation on my stereo. But it’s the kind of record that feels truest on a Saturday morning with good coffee and nothing on the horizon but hours and hours of fun. There’s pain in the record, sure; Stills has said “Sweet Judy Blue Eyes” was about the inevitability of his breakup with Judy Collins. But anguish seems to be kept at arm’s distance, as though the guys writing and singing the songs don’t really believe or know how badly life and love can make you hurt sometimes. And it seems to me there’s some kind of definition of art that runs through the differences between the first two CSN/CSNY records and their solo projects that followed. The latter four feel truer, more profound and enduring -- more reliable testaments of what it really means to be a human being.

 

Several Species Of Small Furry Thoughts - A Treasure

There are a few Neil Youngs. There’s the singer/songwriter of Buffalo Springfield/CSNY/Crazy Horse fame, the author of countless rock and folk classics; there’s the guitar warrior, capable of puncturing eardrums with feedback and volume; there’s the experimental iconoclast who confounds critics and fans by never being predictable or giving them exactly what they expect; and there is also the down home Neil, the guy who pays homage to the country music he grew up hearing, sounding like a beacon across the great expanse of loneliness between Nashville and Canada. When Neil released his Old Ways record of country-tinged rockers and ballads, he not only succeeded in driving David Geffen apeshit, he seemed to really strike a chord in his own musical sensibilities as well. He embarked on a cross-country tour with a real live country band that included fiddlemaster Rufus Thibodeaux, Nashville legend Spooner Oldham and other legit members of the C&W world. The 1984 tour stopped at Red Rocks and the Cheyenne Rodeo. I went to both, and I will never forget Rufus Thibodeaux almost sawing his fiddle in half during a downpour while the band soared through “Down By The River.” Neil did play some of his other material on this tour, but everything had a very authentic country feel to it.

Now 27 years later Neil is releasing a keepsake of that wonderful tour. A Treasure compiles many highlights from the tour into a beautiful package that will make Neil fans smile. Containing 12 songs, many of them will be unfamiliar to fans as they were never given an official release. The band is as warm and seasonal as roasted chestnuts, playing with the confidence that is born in authenticity not artifice. Highlights include Neil’s lovely song to his daughter “Amber Jean,” a beautiful take on the Springfield classic “Flying On The Ground Is Wrong,” the touching ballad “Nothing Is Perfect” and the barn burning versions of “Southern Pacific” and the unreleased “Grey Riders.” From the pastoral cover painting to the familial vibe of the performances this is indeed a treasure.

As a special reward to independent stores, we were given both versions (180 gram and regular weight) of the vinyl to sell a week early. The CD and a deluxe CD/Blu-Ray version with live footage will be out next week.

Neil Young - Dreamin’ Man Live ‘92

A couple of years ago when Neil played at the Wells Fargo Theatre downtown I got to go back stage and talk to him for a minute. We talked about the archive series and I asked him what else they were going to do. He said “next is ‘Over The Rainbow.’” I asked him if he meant the Rainbow Theatre in London on the Tonight’s The Night tour. He smiled and said yes. That tour is largely unheard in the public, and in collecting circles it is the most sought after stuff of all – kind of a holy grail search for the heart of Neil. On that tour he regularly performed drunk and went on long rambling raps in the middle of the song “Tonight’s The Night.” Some versions would last 45 minutes and some nights he would play the song three times in the same set. There are really no high quality versions of these shows out there so I was quite excited for the prospect. Then the next release to come out was The Canterbury House and it was so good that I forgot about the Rainbow release. Then “Dreamin’ Man” got announced and I thought; “what happened to the Rainbow? So, I went into this release with a somewhat bad attitude. When I got a copy I put it on and was almost immediately transported. It is one of those things that Neil and only a few other performers I have seen can do; completely engross the audience as a solo act. Very hard to do. From the first note of this CD it is clear Neil is playing these songs (the entire Harvest Moon album before it was out) with an uncommon urgency. He is in beautiful voice and his solid, accompaniment is wondrous in its simplicity and natural perfection. He is what every dorm-room wannabe wants ta be. Like the earlier Massey Hall release the effect is transcendent. The concert ends (Dreamin’ Man is actually taken from a series of concerts) and you realize you have shared an intimate experience, not just listened to a record. The material stands up pretty well too. Harvest Moon is sort of the sequel to the classic Harvest and it showcases the loving, homebody Neil as opposed to the tortured rock warrior. His love songs resonate in the heart as profoundly as his electric guitar playing stings in the ears. This is another bullseye for the archive series.

Paul Epstein

Magnolia Electric Co. - Josephine

You know the phenomenon when a newer band reminds you of an older band and then at some point it shifts from “they remind me of X” to “they are in the same category as X.” This has happened to me with countless bands, starting with Them reminding me of The Rolling Stones and going on through the years. It’s often how you get hooked in the first place. When I first heard Magnolia Electric Co. I thought, hey these guys sound kinda like Neil Young-y, Buffalo Springfieldish type stuff. Strong lead vocalist, writing heady, poetic songs of loss and yearning. Their music has no pretension to being faddish or cutting edge-it is simply well-performed country-folk-rock with no trickery or frills.

With Josephine Magnolia Electric Co. have made the jump. I listened to the new album breathlessly as lead singer Jason Molina stretches his pipes in a more confident way than ever before, proving he is a singer of rare talent and emotional resonance. The songs are beautiful, jewel-like compositions that serve the subject of the lyrics without getting in the way. The subject seems to be the love and loss of a woman named Josephine. The emotional detail of the lyrics is always impressive. There was line after line that I wanted to write down and revisit. There are few albums that inspire this level of scrutiny anymore. I actually was thinking, “I can’t wait to be alone with this record again.” I miss that level of emotional attachment to a new record.

--Paul Epstein

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 9)?

Neil Young - Tonight's the Night
I know a lot of people think this record is just a bummer, but I absolutely love it. And to counter the idea that all it is is a big downer, you've got two songs two in which Neil expresses his joy about Pegi as his young wife and mother of his kid - "Speakin' Out" and "New Mama" - the latter ending on the words "I'm livin' in a dream land." And the songs that do explore darker, grimmer material - and they are many, lest you think I'm missing the point - are countered and buoyed by these, by the joyous energy of "Come On Baby Let's Go Downtown" that explodes right on the heels of the melancholy "Borrowed Tune," by the overall framework in which he sings a lament for his friend Bruce Berry but still offers Danny Whitten - both Berry and Whitten dead of drug overdoses by the time of recording of this album - the lead vocal on "Downtown." He's tying together the life-affirming and the skirting-the-edge-of-death, he's offering the idea that having the world on a string don't mean a thing, but knowing that shouldn't prevent you from being living life, that in fact it should strengthen your resolve to see what's good out there. Every song is distinct, makes its mark; it rocks hard, it plays it mellow, it's got meaning, it's got life, death, joy and sadness - how much more can you possibly want from a rock and roll record?


Q-Tip - Amplified
I think this is better than any Tribe Called Quest album (excepting compilations). There, I said it and I mean it. Part of the reason is that the vocals come through loud and clear, never submerged in a smoky aura or underproduced to sink underneath the weight of the beats and samples; part of it is the unity of the minimal style that threads through the record. There’s a varied, yet non-stop rhythmic drive pushing every track, each of which is then decorated with an ornamental sound effect or simple melody to mark it in the mind. Just when you think it’s gone to all beats and voice, a shift in the rhythm or a melodic line will ring through and sweeten things enough to carry you to the next riff. And that’s not even bringing in Q-tip’s mellifluous tones. He really is one of the greats, and he doesn’t need a foil to provide counterpoint – he’s got enough variety on his own. Certainly the rhythmic drive is something this shares with some of the Tribe’s albums, but even on the vaunted Low End Theory I find myself waiting a few tracks for the next great song once one’s over, examining in too much detail, for example, the space between “Butter” and “Check the Rhime.” Here, even the lower-key tracks – like “Things U Do” – give me a charge, and true to the album format they’re propped up and strengthened by their surroundings. I love the Tribe when they’re great, but they were never this consistent for me, never made an album whose whole overshadowed the constituent components. Oh yeah, and “Vivrant Thing” stands for me as the greatest single he’s ever made. Ever.


Lou Reed - Mistrial
Unlike, say, Berlin, the failure here is one of execution, not of inspiration. Songs could be better, sharper, more exciting, but as ideas, as an album concept, it’s a continuation of what he’d been doing over the last three or four records – a way less successful attempt, yeah, but where this is a rough stone that may contain nothing but mica and iron pyrite, Berlin is just an over-polished turd. Whether its surface sheen makes it worth exposure to its rotten core is purely up to you. I’d probably rather dig into this one’s shallower lyrical and musical pleasures – again, a continuation of his adult ruminations on his real-world relationships, and a street level look at contemporary problems of New York and of the country – than the feel-bad vibes and overly ornate production of the earlier record. At least he’s gunning for something that can be construed as a positive, rather than a heavy dose of second-hand pessimism. In the same way that The Blue Mask and Legendary Hearts explore the tail end of his “dark” years, this is a counterpart to his explorations of a newer, positive and personal songwriting outlook on the world that starts in New Sensations (or really, in Growing Up in Public, though that one’s got its own problems, starting (and perhaps ending) with a band that's not in synch with him). Despite its bad rep amongst Lou fans, I don’t mind this at all, I dig what he’s striving for even if he falls short of the mark – there are at least three other records of his that leap to mind immediately as ones I would less like to hear. And though it’s out of print on a US available CD, it’s a safe bet that you can always find the vinyl used. And cheap, too.

Portraits of the Artists as Young Men

Neil Young - Sugar Mountain-Live at Canterbury House 1968
Recorded in 1968, as he was just embarking on his solo career after being in the highly successful Buffalo Springfield, this recording will literally bring tears to the eyes of Neil Young diehards. Consisting of equal parts Springfield songs and early solo material the program is punctuated by Neil’s comments, jokes and banter. The overall effect is wondrous. The listener is immediately struck by both how fully formed he is as a performer, yet how young and inexperienced he sounds at the same time. His ability to pull off challenging numbers like “Expecting To Fly,” “Broken Arrow” or a mind-blowing “Trip To Tulsa” sits comfortably next to the folksy simplicity of performances of straight-forward fare such as “Mr. Soul,” or “Sugar Mountain.” The version of “Sugar Mountain” is the one that was originally released as a single, and it is quintessential Neil. He delivers a song of seeming childlike simplicity, yet it has an almost anthemic resonance that grows with each listen. Of special interest are the songs from his first, eponymous release that haven’t seen much live treatment over the years. “If I Could Have Her Tonight,” “I’ve Been Waiting For You,” “The Old Laughing Lady,” the aforementioned “Trip To Tulsa” and “The Loner” all shine with the excitement of new tunes that will one day be classics. Neil is clearly playing to a small, adoring audience, but it is obvious that he is a world-class performer already, and is quite comfortable kibitzing with the crowd. His voice is lovely. At times he sounds like a thirteen-year old girl in the first blush of romance. And I mean that as a complement. Considering the worlds that this man has come over the ensuing 40 years since this was recorded, the overall vibe is exactly what we have come to expect from Neil Young. Even at this tender age he delivered poetic songs of substance in a singular, riveting fashion.


The Doors - Live At The Matrix 1967
This is one of the most often bootlegged sets of shows in the history of bootlegging. Throughout the years these shows have appeared in fair, bad and worse sound quality with incomplete song lists. Finally, the best of these landmark shows has appeared legitimately with HIGHLY upgraded sound and a stunning package with artwork by the great Stanley Mouse and liner notes by all three surviving Doors. At this period they had recorded their first album but not released it and had already started on a few songs from their second album. The audience is tiny, literally less than 30 people. The Doors were like any other two-year old band with limited exposure outside of their hometown; and that is the real charm of these recordings. Jim Morrison and company had not bought into any of the hype yet - in fact there was no hype. “Light My Fire” had not yet been released to radio, and it is obvious listening to the non-plussed audience reaction that there were no rock-star pretensions. What one is left with is a hard-working, highly original band with a great batch of songs, a poetic lead singer, and a future as bright as the sun. The band is tight in their playing, but extremely willing to embark on improvisational flights. Morrison also proves able to throw in extemporaneous bits of poetry to the middle of songs. “The End” and “When The Music’s Over” are particular fertile ground for his lyrical outbursts. What the future would hold for The Doors is now ancient history, but this release offers a glimpse of a great band with wings of wax - nowhere near melting point yet.