Neil Young, like Dylan, has a lot to live up to. Most obviously, he has to contend with his own reputation, and the expectations of his audience: two things which are not entirely compatible. Still, there is something odd about the way he sets up for the acoustic part of the show. With the broken theatre lights at the back of the stage, and the sense of clutter, it looks as if itโs designed to give the suggestion of a man looking back from the end of his career, alighting on memories, and finding new significance in things heโd forgotten. This may be an accurate representation of the state of Youngโs mind as he curates his back catalogue in preparation for the release of his extensive Archives project, but it doesnโt always encourage a sense of intimacy. The set design adds a layer of theatricality, and the painter at the back left of the stage seems to represent the act of creation โ but none of this is as helpful as, letโs say, speaking to the audience, or explaining the context of the songs, some of which are pretty obscure. (Incidentally, The Clash employed graffiti artist Futura 2000 to paint the backdrop on the Sandinista! tour, but his art was more dynamic, and more in tune with the spirit of the music). It is a reverential crowd. Neil gets a standing ovation before he does anything. He gets a cheer when he drinks a glass of water. And when he plays, the audience is so quiet that you can hear every cough and wheeze. When things get this precious, the quality of the songs is laid bare, and it doesnโt always help. As a writer, Young has always prized sincerity over poetry, and some of his lyrics can be a little gauche. But the acoustic set does seem to be telling a story of sorts. "From Hank To Hendrix" has him โwith this old guitar, doinโ what I doโ, while the line โitโs easy to get buried in the pastโ jumps out from the beautiful desolation of "Ambulance Blues". It is a treat to hear this song live, and it shows how, even as a young man, Neil sounded old and dismayed, circling around burnout. "Kansas" has a thin tune and bitter lyric (โI feel like I just woke up from a bad dreamโ), while "Sad Movies" is more straightforwardly autobiographical. On earlier dates in the tour he explained how he wrote it about his movie-going days in Toronto, but in this setting, the words play into the theme of a man examining a life of performance: โBlack and white, the exit lights up in the balcony, looking for someone to feel for a whileโ. "Mexico" sounds weary (โthe feelingโs gone, why is it so hard to hang on?โ), and "A Man Needs A Maid" with a slight "I Donโt Like Mondays" feel on the piano, gets a big cheer. Finally, in response to a shout of โOld Manโ, Neil speaks. โTimeโs funny,โ he says, โsometimes itโs standing still, sometimes, itโs going like hell. I like it though. The older I get, the better I feel.โ And then he plays "Harvest", and itโs only at this point that he truly starts to overcome the self-consciousness of the setting. It is tremendous โ sad and wistful, and Neil himself seems to spark into life. Suddenly he canโt stop talking โ reprising the story of his Granny Jean (mentioned in Johnโs earlier review), who worked in a copper mining town, checking the tags of the miners as they came back above ground. โShe was a valued member of the community, but more than that, she played a helluva honky tonk pianoโ. And Neil plays "Journey Through The Past", his hands rolling over the keys like a saloon bar entertainer. Itโs a sentimental journey. He picks up the banjo. Put it down. โIt comes down to: would you rather hear about plant life or dogs? Thatโs the way government works, isnโt it?โ He plays "Homegrown". Afterwards, he says he used to think it was a drug song. Then he thought it was about food, and how people could eat healthily, โThen fuel โ growing plants and using โem in cars. Thatโs pretty good.โ He hesitates. โThatโll never work. Theyโre all over thatโฆ so all you getโs a stupid song and all this informationโ. He rambles on endearingly, losing his way. โIโm losing the whole audience,โ he says. โThank God it doesnโt matter!โ More evidence that he is curating the soundtrack to his life? The lyric of "Love Art Blues": โMy songs are all so long and my words are all too sad โ why must I choose between the best things I ever hadโ. "Old Man": in which the young Neil compares himself to a codger, and he here he is, singing it when heโs old. He hasnโt touched some of these songs for years, and age has changed them. The words mean different things. The electric set is something else. Suddenly, the theatricality doesnโt matter. After all that introspection, the second half is about the joy of noise, and itโs still a thrill to hear that heavy guitar sound. Itโs isnโt metal โ itโs live rust, a corrosive, crumbling noise that sticks to your skin. It doesnโt even matter much when the song is bad (thank you, "Dirty Old Man"), Young and his band play them as if they are controlling the weather, with the emphasis on thunder. "Powderfinger" is a terrific example of the raw power of riffing, but the show hits the heights with "Hey Hey My My", a quite preposterous celebration of the power of rockโnโroll which makes perfect sense, with Young careening off into a jet engine guitar solo, and the crowd doing call and response on the line about Johnny Rotten. "Too Far Gone" is a step down in intensity, but leads perfectly into Youngโs reworked version of "Oh Lonesome Me" (โone of the greatest sets of lyrics I ever heard"), stretched out from Don Gibsonโs original into an achingly sad song, with Youngโs voice almost snapping on the chorus. And that leads into a fantastic version of "Winterlong" (โfor Danny Whittenโ); all grungy sadness, with lovely steel guitar and plaintive melodies. It doesnโt get any better, though the second encore of "Tonightโs The Night" comes pretty close. The show ends where Youngโs career began, with the surf instrumental, "The Sultan", which he recorded with the Squires. Not that Neil explains that. Instead, the song is introduced by an Ali Baba character in a pantomime costume, banging a gong. In the end, itโs a thrill โ a mix of the obscure and the familiar, and a lesson in the way the meaning of songs is changed by time and context. Oddly enough, it feels like the beginning of something, not the end. ALASTAIR McKAY Set 1 From Hank To Hendrix Ambulance Blues Kansas Sad Movies Mexico A Man Needs A Maid Harvest Love In Mind Journey Through The Past Homegrown Love Art Blues Love Is A Rose Out On The Weekend Old Man Set 2 The Loner Dirty Old Man Spirit Road Powderfinger Hey Hey My My Too Far Gone Oh Lonesome Me Winterlong No Hidden Path Encores: Fuckinโ Up Tonightโs The Night The Sultan
Neil Young, like Dylan, has a lot to live up to. Most obviously, he has to contend with his own reputation, and the expectations of his audience: two things which are not entirely compatible.
Still, there is something odd about the way he sets up for the acoustic part of the show. With the broken theatre lights at the back of the stage, and the sense of clutter, it looks as if itโs designed to give the suggestion of a man looking back from the end of his career, alighting on memories, and finding new significance in things heโd forgotten. This may be an accurate representation of the state of Youngโs mind as he curates his back catalogue in preparation for the release of his extensive Archives project, but it doesnโt always encourage a sense of intimacy. The set design adds a layer of theatricality, and the painter at the back left of the stage seems to represent the act of creation โ but none of this is as helpful as, letโs say, speaking to the audience, or explaining the context of the songs, some of which are pretty obscure. (Incidentally, The Clash employed graffiti artist Futura 2000 to paint the backdrop on the Sandinista! tour, but his art was more dynamic, and more in tune with the spirit of the music).
It is a reverential crowd. Neil gets a standing ovation before he does anything. He gets a cheer when he drinks a glass of water. And when he plays, the audience is so quiet that you can hear every cough and wheeze. When things get this precious, the quality of the songs is laid bare, and it doesnโt always help. As a writer, Young has always prized sincerity over poetry, and some of his lyrics can be a little gauche. But the acoustic set does seem to be telling a story of sorts. โFrom Hank To Hendrixโ has him โwith this old guitar, doinโ what I doโ, while the line โitโs easy to get buried in the pastโ jumps out from the beautiful desolation of โAmbulance Bluesโ. It is a treat to hear this song live, and it shows how, even as a young man, Neil sounded old and dismayed, circling around burnout.
โKansasโ has a thin tune and bitter lyric (โI feel like I just woke up from a bad dreamโ), while โSad Moviesโ is more straightforwardly autobiographical. On earlier dates in the tour he explained how he wrote it about his movie-going days in Toronto, but in this setting, the words play into the theme of a man examining a life of performance: โBlack and white, the exit lights up in the balcony, looking for someone to feel for a whileโ. โMexicoโ sounds weary (โthe feelingโs gone, why is it so hard to hang on?โ), and โA Man Needs A Maidโ with a slight โI Donโt Like Mondaysโ feel on the piano, gets a big cheer.
Finally, in response to a shout of โOld Manโ, Neil speaks. โTimeโs funny,โ he says, โsometimes itโs standing still, sometimes, itโs going like hell. I like it though. The older I get, the better I feel.โ And then he plays โHarvestโ, and itโs only at this point that he truly starts to overcome the self-consciousness of the setting. It is tremendous โ sad and wistful, and Neil himself seems to spark into life. Suddenly he canโt stop talking โ reprising the story of his Granny Jean (mentioned in Johnโs earlier review), who worked in a copper mining town, checking the tags of the miners as they came back above ground. โShe was a valued member of the community, but more than that, she played a helluva honky tonk pianoโ. And Neil plays โJourney Through The Pastโ, his hands rolling over the keys like a saloon bar entertainer.
Itโs a sentimental journey. He picks up the banjo. Put it down. โIt comes down to: would you rather hear about plant life or dogs? Thatโs the way government works, isnโt it?โ He plays โHomegrownโ. Afterwards, he says he used to think it was a drug song. Then he thought it was about food, and how people could eat healthily, โThen fuel โ growing plants and using โem in cars. Thatโs pretty good.โ He hesitates. โThatโll never work. Theyโre all over thatโฆ so all you getโs a stupid song and all this informationโ. He rambles on endearingly, losing his way. โIโm losing the whole audience,โ he says. โThank God it doesnโt matter!โ
More evidence that he is curating the soundtrack to his life? The lyric of โLove Art Bluesโ: โMy songs are all so long and my words are all too sad โ why must I choose between the best things I ever hadโ. โOld Manโ: in which the young Neil compares himself to a codger, and he here he is, singing it when heโs old. He hasnโt touched some of these songs for years, and age has changed them. The words mean different things.
The electric set is something else. Suddenly, the theatricality doesnโt matter. After all that introspection, the second half is about the joy of noise, and itโs still a thrill to hear that heavy guitar sound. Itโs isnโt metal โ itโs live rust, a corrosive, crumbling noise that sticks to your skin. It doesnโt even matter much when the song is bad (thank you, โDirty Old Manโ), Young and his band play them as if they are controlling the weather, with the emphasis on thunder. โPowderfingerโ is a terrific example of the raw power of riffing, but the show hits the heights with โHey Hey My Myโ, a quite preposterous celebration of the power of rockโnโroll which makes perfect sense, with Young careening off into a jet engine guitar solo, and the crowd doing call and response on the line about Johnny Rotten.
โToo Far Goneโ is a step down in intensity, but leads perfectly into Youngโs reworked version of โOh Lonesome Meโ (โone of the greatest sets of lyrics I ever heardโ), stretched out from Don Gibsonโs original into an achingly sad song, with Youngโs voice almost snapping on the chorus. And that leads into a fantastic version of โWinterlongโ (โfor Danny Whittenโ); all grungy sadness, with lovely steel guitar and plaintive melodies. It doesnโt get any better, though the second encore of โTonightโs The Nightโ comes pretty close.
The show ends where Youngโs career began, with the surf instrumental, โThe Sultanโ, which he recorded with the Squires. Not that Neil explains that. Instead, the song is introduced by an Ali Baba character in a pantomime costume, banging a gong.
In the end, itโs a thrill โ a mix of the obscure and the familiar, and a lesson in the way the meaning of songs is changed by time and context. Oddly enough, it feels like the beginning of something, not the end.
ALASTAIR McKAY
Set 1
From Hank To Hendrix
Ambulance Blues
Kansas
Sad Movies
Mexico
A Man Needs A Maid
Harvest
Love In Mind
Journey Through The Past
Homegrown
Love Art Blues
Love Is A Rose
Out On The Weekend
Old Man
Set 2
The Loner
Dirty Old Man
Spirit Road
Powderfinger
Hey Hey My My
Too Far Gone
Oh Lonesome Me
Winterlong
No Hidden Path
Encores:
Fuckinโ Up
Tonightโs The Night
The Sultan