Damn you, Neil Young. To paraphrase Silvio Dante quoting Michael Corleone, “Just when I thought I was out, he pulls me back in.”
Neil has just released the third volume of his Archives project, which was launched in 2009. This new set covers the period of 1976 – 1987. I have the first two Archives volumes but thought I might take a pass this time around. However, I could not resist the lure of previously unreleased material from the late ‘70s. Missing out on a transcendent live version of “Like a Hurricane” or “Cortez the Killer?” Nope, can’t do that.
And by the way, after all these years, I think it is only proper for me to call him “Neil,” since I discovered his music through Neil’s membership in Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young when I was 13. More so than the other members of that group, Neil spoke to me, in a high-pitched quavery voice.
While not crossing the line into hoarder territory, Neil does tend to hang onto stuff. Much like Hunter Thompson saved copies of all his correspondence from 1955 until his death (check out The Proud Highway and The Gonzo Letters), Neil has scrupulously and obsessively kept and cataloged damn near everything he has ever recorded. The guy is, if nothing else, prolific, with hours of unheard music in his vaults.
Prior to Neil’s Archives project, the only way to hear this buried treasure was to buy bootlegs. And there were plenty of them, with content ranging from live shows to studio outtakes and demos to comprehensive anthologies like the four-disc set Rock ‘n’ Roll Cowboy. These “recordings of indeterminate origin” confirmed the fact that, for whatever reason, Neil had chosen not to put out some of his best stuff.
But back to the just-released Archives, Vol III. It’s quite the doorstop, with 17 CD’s of audio and five Blu-Rays full of video. Oh, and there’s a hardback book included as well, with plenty of photos and detailed personnel listings for all of the recordings. Plus a poster and (ha!), for those of us who pre-ordered, a bonus CD containing a distillation of the massive set. And did I mention the lapel pin?
Alright, enough effing around. How does it sound? Unsurprisingly, since Neil is all about fidelity and pristine sonics, the material has been lovingly remastered, and it couldn’t sound better. With regard to content, the late ‘70s stuff is tremendous, as expected. But what about some of that batshit-crazy stuff Neil turned out post-1980?
On balance, I can report that I am happy with my $449.95 purchase. (Despite the fact that Neil’s merch page is called “The Greedy Hand,” he didn’t charge me for shipping.) A casual listener might wonder why some cuts (particularly those from 1983’s Trans — an album that reflected an obsession with computers and the use of the Vocoder to modify vocals – are here. But these songs tell a significant part of Neil’s story, reflecting a period when he was experimenting with technology as a way to communicate with his son Ben, who was nonverbal and faced severe physical challenges due to cerebral palsy.
During those troubled times, I saw a show that, for the first hour or so, featured Neil in all of his “Down by the River” glory. Then things got seriously strange. After a few selections from Trans, Neil’s faux rockabilly / R&B material from his work with the Shocking Pinks (yet another side project) was trotted out, with the musicians clad in pink western-cut suits. By the end of the show, half of the folks had gone home. Not that Neil gave a shit.
Archives Vol. III effectively recreates that concert experience, though at much greater length. No one bats a thousand, but it is fun to hear what happened when Neil said, “Hmm. Let’s try this.” For example, check out Neil’s unlikely collaboration with Devo on “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black).” The song is played with a punk sensibility, much faster than the recorded version we are familiar with and right on top of the beat.
So what’s good? Damn near everything on the first ten discs. Live performances with Crazy Horse in 1976, duets with Nicolette Larson, Neil’s brief partnership with a California band called the Ducks and his historic solo concerts at San Francisco’s Boardinghouse in 1978.
So what’s bad? Well, unsurprisingly, a few CDs could have been excised from this set with no complaints. By 1980, Neil was beginning to run out of steam and / or inspiration. Hawks and Doves was rather “meh,” its follow-up, RE-AC-TOR, even more so. And then there’s the previously mentioned Trans material. The rockabilly songs from Everybody’s Rockin’ do not, in fact, rock, and the tunes from Neil’s country foray, Old Ways, are mostly a snooze. The only post-1980 cuts that exhibit much spirit and fun are from the International Harvesters, a western swing-ish group that Neil assembled in 1983.
If you’re not a big-time Neil Young fan, this is not for you. Stick to Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, After the Goldrush, Harvest, Comes a Time and Harvest Moon. All of them are lovely albums that present Neil’s most accessible work. But if you want to get weird with Neil, this is your ticket for that ride. If you love whacked-out masterpieces like Tonight’s the Night, On the Beach and Zuma, this is your jam. And if you go even a step further and dig the shambolic Time Fades Away, so much the better.
Have I listened to all 17 discs and watched all of the Blu-Rays? No. Will I ever? Maybe not. But probably, at some point. Hey, it’s a lot of Neil.
It is perhaps a tribute to Neil’s maverick spirit that, a couple of years after former colleague David Geffen signed him to his new record label in 1982, the mogul brought legal action against Neil for producing “unrepresentative” albums. In essence, Geffen sued Neil for not sounding like himself. Neil countered by taking a substantial pay cut and proceeding to ignore Geffen. In a 2012 New York Times interview, Neil said, “I’m not here to sell things. That’s what other people do. I’m creating them. If it doesn’t work out, I’m sorry; I’m just doing what I do. You hired me to do what I do, not what you do. As long as people don’t tell me what to do, there will be no problem.”
Neil has turned into something of a cantankerous old cuss in his later years, exemplified by his beef with Spotify over the fact that right-wing nut job Joe Rogan provided content to the same streaming service as he did. “You can have Rogan or Young. Not both,” was his message. The whole kerfuffle was eventually resolved, but it serves to remind us once again that Neil has never been afraid to put his money where his mouth is.
If he had permanently pulled his songs from Spotify, estimates are that the action would have cost him around $2 million a year. A rugged individualist, a free thinker and – sometimes – a pain in the ass. Quirky, but rarely boring. Would that there were more like him.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2024.
