Song: Ambulance Blues
Album: On the Beach
Released: July, 1974
A month ago, my son Peter wrote a fantastic essay on the World War I
book ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ focusing on the stages of emotion that a German
soldier, Paul
Bäumer, goes through; from patriotism to
disillusionment to despair. Peter used
song lyrics to get many of his points across (a requirement), primarily quoting
the songs of Eminem. I reviewed the
essay before he handed it in and I must say it was a learning experience. First off, Eminem is a bit deeper than I had
given him credit (though unlike many of my contemporaries, I’d like to think I
had some genuine respect already, based on both the movie ‘8 Mile’ and Peter’s
admiration for this rapper’s music). The
bigger insight for me however was that, like myself, Peter was gaining valuable
lessons in life through music. Has he
been reading my blog?
It’s been a treat witnessing Peter connect with his musical interests
beyond the superficial entry point. I’ve
never really pushed my own tastes on my children, although long drives on vacation
trips and the like have called for us all to comprise and listen to one
another’s selections on occasion. Ultimately,
however, music is specific to the times it was written and experiencing that
period oneself (or experiencing the period soon after) is important to make the
connection. To expect another generation,
before or after, to relate with the music of your times can be a futile
quest. Not impossible, mind you, but at
the very least an uphill battle. Besides,
I believe what we really want to see is our kids making their own discoveries
within the context of their times, no matter how great we think our music
is. That’s what Peter has done with
Eminem and a handful of other musicians.
And yet, there are artistic statements out there that not only immerse themselves
within the times they were created but also transcend beyond those times. These
works, be they a book (i.e. ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’), a movie (i.e. ‘8
Mile’), or any other art form, are truly meant for any generation. In these blog pages, I have made several
attempts to explain the power of a great album in comparison to an individual
song or a compilation of songs (i.e. “greatest hits”). Albums are the only way a musician can
achieve this lofty achievement of immersing within and transcending beyond a
time period. Songs are simply not all-encompassing
enough, and compilations are often too contrived.
‘On the Beach’ is one of these albums that can speak to all of us. It is a period piece for sure, of the
mid-70s, with references to Patty Hearst, Charles Manson and the Woodstock
aftermath. The general vibe is all 70s
as well, including the powerful rhythm section of Levon Helm and Rick Danko on Revolution Blues (at their ‘Last Waltz’-period
peak) and the album cover, one of
Neil Young’s best; a beach scene full of symbolism, including a Cadillac supposedly
having sunk deep in the sand (all that is exposed is the rear fin) and a
newspaper with the headline “Sen Buckley calls for Nixon to resign”. Yes, for those of us familiar with the 70s,
this is the real deal.
But ‘On the Beach’ is not stuck in its times. On the contrary, it is far reaching. The album does this with an overriding
theme: That of coping - carrying on,
dealing with difficulty, starting with the opening harbinger, Walk On.
We can all relate to these emotions.
One could argue Bob Dylan may have taken note with the release of ‘Blood
on the Tracks’ just six months later, which dealt with similar themes. Neil Young was turning a corner with this
album. ‘On the Beach’ has a feel that
Young was in it for the long haul, albeit far removed from his 60s blind-faith glory
days. He comes to terms with this new
reality here, but in doing so, he stands true to his principles. After listening to this album again for this
entire week, it is not surprising to me that Neil Young is one of the few 60’s
musicians still creating in any meaningful way.
Read between the lines, with the knowledge we have now about this man’s
career, and longevity is all over the place on ‘On the Beach’.
The central coping theme in the songs on this album is a response to
personal loss and generational disillusionment, though it’s the latter that
gets the mother lode of focus here. But
Young does not abandon his generation.
Rather he admits to being part of its failures and shows solidarity with
his peers by rejecting the alternative paths of prior generations. The final cut, Ambulance Blues collects all of this together – the times, the
coping, the comparisons to other generational norms - in brilliant fashion. One verse in the song is particularly
poignant:
“You’re
all just pissin’ in the wind
You
don’t know it but you are
And
there ain’t nothin’ like a friend
Who
can tell you you’re just pissin’ in the wind”
Many have read into these lyrics.
From my perspective this is referring to a comment made by an elder
Torontonian to Neil Young at a farmers market.
This catches Young at a low point, but other lyrics respond to this
comment, including a seeming response to a first responder’s attitude toward
hippies (at Woodstock perhaps?):
“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”
…and a reference to the Nixon scandals at the end of the song:
“I never knew a man could tell
so many lies
He had a different story for every set of eyes
How can he remember who he's talking to?
Cause I know it ain't me, and hope it isn't you”
Although Neil Young has moved on from certain songs in his vast
catalog, he remains connected to this one despite its first-listen time stamp
feel. An outstanding rendition of Ambulance Blues is on the 2009 Neil
Young documentary ‘Trunk’: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7LiA_rvemE
Reconnecting with my initial comments about Peter’s essay, there’s a link there
to ‘On the Beach’. Neil Young went
through a transition from enthusiasm to disillusionment in the early 70s, but
unlike some of his brethren (and the protagonist in ‘All Quiet on the Western
Front’), he never succumbs to despair.
This speaks to a positive take from the 60s that lasts to this day:
Openness. The Beatles, Neil Young and
others of that era showed us all that we could be far more transparent than
earlier generations. Perhaps there was more
of a need for secrecy in the eras prior (i.e. WWII memories) but this did not
have to carry over to the Baby Boomers and we made sure we broke the mold. The 60s allowed the 70s and beyond to play
out this way, and I personally benefitted from it. Some of the highlight moments of my
friendships over the years have been frank and open discussions on life, love
and faith. Heavy one-on-one conversations
with Pat, Dave, Luc, Rocco, Kurt and others come to mind when I think of how I
have been blessed by this generational characteristic. I can thank the 60s era for this.
With that said, what I really gained from that learning experience of reading
Peter’s essay was a sense of a continuum that appears founded in the blues;
from Bob Dylan to Neil Young to the Clash, to Nirvana to Green Day to
Eminem. Many rock and roll musicians
espouse upon the influence of blues music to their own success. For the longest time, I could not make the
connection, but in recent years I’ve begun to see the light. Blues music is rooted in bare-bones openness,
no matter the revelation. Ambulance Blues has this in spades. It’s aptly named: A raw, naked song that cuts straight to the
soul.
-
Pete
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