Dylan & Young on Tour Newsweek - November 13, 1978 Subject: NY/Newsweek/11-13-78
Fellow Rust-lings,
The following article appeared in Newsweek on November 13,
1978 in the
Music section. I saved it not just for the Rust Never Sleeps Tour memories but
because it's got some good Neil interview comments, as well as interesting general
background content. If you don't want it posted in it's entirety please
let me know. Thanks to Mood Code for providing the excellent Stone
Ridge tapes as background music for me while I type this article.
HOW TO STAY YOUNG
by Tony Schwartz
Neil Young wants to put rock in a grand
perspective. His show begins
with a recording of Jimi Hendrix's screeching version of "The Star
Spangled Banner," followed by the Beatles' "A Day In The Life." Then
Young himself appears---atop a huge mock amplifier at the back of the
stage. He begins with a 40-minute-long acoustic set, wandering about
the stage with a cordless microphone, accompanying himself on guitar.
Intermission is marked by eerie tape announcements from the 1969
Woodstock festival. When Young reappears, it is for a deafening
hour-long electric set with his longtime backup band Crazy Horse:
rock'n'roll at it's most primal and powerful.
The effect is at once nostalgic, sobering and
celebratory: Young is
paying homage both to staying young and moving on. When he says simply,
"It's about American rock'n'roll, the whole trip, not just a stage show
but a history of shows," he is not being presumptuous. Except perhaps
for Bob Dylan, Neil Young at 32, is the most consistently compelling
figure in American rock; certainly no one else has covered so much
musical ground---folk, country and rock---with such originality.
His songs are deceptively uncomplicated: stark,
crisp guitar work(he
is even more primitive at the piano); evocative, cryptic lyrics; a
nasal, wistful, thoroughly distinctive voice that either grates or
mesmerizes. His sound is easy to imitate; his spirit is not. Whether
he is singing sweetly about love gone awry or angrily about a friend's
death, brutally loud or quietly tender, Young aims straight for the
heart.
Just now, he is in a summing-up mood. It began
last year with the
release of "Decade," a three-album retrospective of his work that showed
just how much of it there is, and included a rare bonus: pithy
autobiographical reflections in the form of handwritten liner notes.
The tour itself---Young has just finished playing 25 of the country's
largest arenas and may shortly resume performing---is an uncommon
reaching out; Young usually opts for more intimate settings. And now
there is the release of "Comes A Time," his first clearly commercial
album since 1972's "Harvest." In just a month, it has outsold each of
his six intervening solo albums. "It came out outward, clean and
appealing," he explains. "It's the first record I've released where I'm
actually facing the audience on the jacket and smiling. I think of it
as a presentation you would make of yourself if you wanted to open the
door to further conversations."
Congenial:
He chuckles; Young is well aware of his
reputation as a
recluse and a perpetual bad boy---the sort who used to cut concerts
short after 40 minutes when the audience made too much noise. So when
he finally agrees to an interview, you expect the worst. As usual, he
defies expectation. Far from a snarling, spacey loner, he turns out to
be warm, wry, relaxed and congenial. "I don't mind getting recognized
for what I've done and I like when people ask me to do interviews," he
explains. "But what's hard for them to understand is that it's really
not advantageous for me to do them. "I don't want to be there. I'd
rather be noted for my absence."
Certainly his work speaks for itself. First as a
member of Buffalo
Springfield, the brilliant California folk-rock band that he joined in
1966 (after moving to Los Angeles from Canada) and then as a fourth
member of Crosby, Stills and Nash. (Note: This is Newsweek's mistake,
not mine. But I prefer to remain true to the article and not make my own
changes. I'm sure there are more.) Young was a pivotal figure in the
musical ferment of the late 1960's. He made his mark with "Everybody
Knows This Is Nowhere," a melody-rich hard-rock album recorded with
Crazy Horse in 1969. A year later, he reversed field with the gentle,
introspective "After The Gold Rush." "Harvest," the country-tinged
follow-up, included the only No.1 single of Young's career, "Heart Of
Gold." His typically perverse reaction to that success is included in
the liner notes for "Decade": This song put me in the middle of the
road. Traveling there soon became a bore so I headed for the ditch. A
rougher ride but I saw more interesting people there."
Out of Tune:
Just as mainstream rock was softening
at the edges,
Young began turning out a series of bleary, muddy-sounding, technically
primitive albums. Most extreme was "Tonight's The Night," recorded soon
after "Harvest" but not released until 1975. Inspired by the drug
overdoses of two friends, including Crazy Horse guitarist Danny Whitten,
the album is a depressing tribute---out of tune and repetitive, but
hauntingly memorable. It is also Young's favorite album. "When I
handed it to Warner's, they hated it," he says, grinning. "We played it
ten times as loud as they usually play things and it was awful. I mean,
can you imagine listening to it at 1:00 in the afternoon in some
corporate office? Well, I wasn't trying to make a masterpiece. I was
trying to capture a moment. I didn't want to clean it up. I don't want
the Carpenters to play "Tonight's The Night."
The album was recorded very high on tequila," Young
continues, "and
we did the same thing when we went out on the road with the "Tonight"
tour. For me, it's very much like being an actor. I try to live the
songs in my mind. "Tonight's The Night" was a story of death and
dope.[Young insists he has never used hard drugs himself.] It was about
a sleazy, burned-out rock star just about to go, about what fame and
crowds do to you. I had to exorcise those feelings. I felt like it was
the only chance I had to stay alive."
to be continued...
That intense urgency can be heard even in Young's mellower,
more
polished albums, including "Harvest," "After The Gold Rush" and, now
"Comes A Time." "Folk music can be as authentic as rock'n'roll," he
says. "It's the in-between that bothers me. Soul and depth matter
most. After five or six albums going in one direction, my feelings
demanded that I really craft an album." Forty musicians played on
"Comes A Time," ten engineers had a hand in it and it was recorded in
six different studios. Young took three months just to decide on the
sequencing and then delayed the release several months because he wasn't
satisfied with the first pressing of 200,000 albums. "Musically, I get
crazy when it's not right," he says. "The record company said, 'Fine,
we'll redo it, and we'll mix the first 200,000 in with the rest later.'
I said no, but to make sure I bought all the faulty records back." It
cost him $200,000. "People say I'm crazy, but that's OK. Now I'm happy
with the album."
Not Giving Up:
He should be; it's a confident, full bodied
work, rich
with exuberant melodies and wry touches("Let me bore you with the
story/How my lover let me down"). "The album doesn't forget those
things that are sad about love," says Young, "but it doesn't dwell on
them either. To me it's more about travel. I traveled a lot when I was
recording it, and it's about not stopping, not giving up, keeping
going."
That's the message of this tour, too. "Our motto is 'Rust
Never
Sleeps.' The thing is to constantly fight the decay that is going on.
When I play the Woodstock announcements, I want the audience to be aware
that something really did happen, that we started something back then.
Musically the promise of the '60s was that we were going to put out.
Now, most of the people who were really capable of delivering are just
rusting out. I'm saying, don't do your greatest hits. That's digging
your grave and jumping in." To drive his point home in concert, Young
introduces one new song---a tribute to punk rock---at the end of his
acoustic set and then repeats it in an electric version.
Both ways the message is stirring:
"There's nothing underground or rebellious about rock
anymore," says
Young. "That's why I dig the punks. What's healthy about them is they
know it will piss off the Eagles. It's so healthy to take potshots at
music that's supposed to be anti-Establishment and isn't anymore. I've
always felt that I could rise above everything with music. It's getting
off on what you do best."
So Neil Young keeps moving. He recently married a second
time, and he
and his wife, Peggy, divide their time between the 75-foot Baltic Trader
he rebuilt last year and docks off Fort Lauderdale, a lavishly equipped,
wood paneled Trailways bus that he lives in when he's on the road, and
his 1,200-acre ranch outside San Francisco. Wherever Young goes he
remains extraordinarily prolific. In little more than a decade, he has
released twelve solo albums and collaborated on seven others. In
addition, he estimates he has enough recorded but unreleased material
for several more albums. He is also at work on a second feature-length
film(the first was "Journey Through The Past" in 1972) that he calls "a
musical comedy with black moments."
Next year, Neil Young will reach what he considers a
milestone. He'll
turn 33 and one-third, and by any rock standard that will make him a
genuine long playing record. He plans a big celebration. Others may
have doubted Young's capacity to survive and grow, but he never did.
Back during his darkest period, he wrote a song called "Walk On" as an
answer to his critics:
More on Bob Dylan and Neil Young's music, styles and career changes. Also, more on Rust Never Sleeps album, film and concert tour.
Oh, ho, hi, hi, rock'n'roll will never die.
The king is gone but not forgotten.
This is the story of Johnny Rotten...
It's better to burn out than to fade away.
I hear some people been talkin' me down...
I can't tell them how to feel.
Some get strong, some get strange.
Sooner or later it all gets real.