Song: Cortez the Killer
Album: Zuma
Released: August, 1975
Alas, I’ve reached the end of the road in this ‘Forever Young’ year,
2014, which included 48 blog entries centered on the music of Neil Young. Along with the 2 ‘Gem Music Video of the
Week’ (GMVW) entries from ~ six years ago (GMVW # 32, August, 2008 and GMVW #
67, April, 2009), that’s an even 50, which is the same as what I did for the
Rolling Stones in 2012 (the ‘Stepping Stones’).
It’s been fun. It’s been
real. But there is a lot of other music
out there, much of which has been set aside for an entire calendar year (a
pretty substantial chunk of time to dedicate to one artist if you think about
it). And so it is time to move on.
I have dug deep into the music of Neil Young this year, which was the
intention from the get-go. This musician
is one of a handful who I have determined to be on my top shelf, and therefore
deserving of a broader connection in these weekly musings than my earlier
writings. The original GMVW series (100
in all) focused on a different musician practically every week. Those entries were centered on the linked
videos (hence the title of the series) - much of which was concert footage,
some MTV-like - and the thoughts those videos stirred up in me. The intent with ‘Stepping Stones’ and
‘Forever Young’ (and hopefully future series centered on the Who, Bob Dylan,
and the Beatles) is to flesh out my broader interest in these musicians through
all of their albums, allowing me to build new thoughts, old memories and deeper
insights upon. I hope that has come
across in the writing.
So, what did I learn
from this ‘Forever Young’ year? Well,
I’m more convinced than ever that Neil Young marches to the beat of his own
drum more than any other musician I enjoy listening to. This has led to an amazing diversity of
sound. For example, other than the
vocals, it can be difficult to connect the guy who penned Speakin’
Out with the guy who penned Walks
Like a Giant or Transformer Man
or People on the Street or Powderfinger or the entirety of
‘Greendale’. Yes, this singer/songwriter
is all over the map. I don’t believe he
has ever been swayed by the critics or his fans. In many respects, this is what defines an
artist. Rock and Roll needed this
attitude to help it climb to the pinnacle of respectability: It needed Neil Young even more than Young
needed it.
In 1986, Rolling Stone Magazine aired a 20th
anniversary documentary on prime time television. It was an excellent program with a number of
high profile musicians interviewed for it.
This was the heart of the 80s and many of the interviewees, including
Mick Jagger and David Bowie had the period-piece fluffed up hairdos. Neil Young on the other hand (as well as Jerry
Garcia) made no fashion statement. He
didn’t even attempt to look presentable, and was actually slouched his whole
interview, with a ragged, shaggy look about him. But his comments were clear, concise and
riveting. I was drawn in. I’m sure a number of future grunge-band
leaders were too.
Neil Young is a very personal writer, but I believe this is the
case because he feels his life relates to all of us and that it’s his duty to
make as strong of a connection as he can with the gifts he has been given. The ‘ditch trilogy’ of the early 70s (‘Time
Fades Away’, ‘On the Beach’, and ‘Tonight’s the Night’) alone bears this
out. There is dissolution and despair on
the music of these albums that is palpable.
But somehow, it’s all reassuring because it’s all so human. This had me coming
back for more to that period throughout the year despite the downcast mood and
subject matter. The fact that Neil Young
stuck with this mood (or was stuck with it) for a good half decade is
impressive; he lay prone on that psychiatrist couch until there was nothing
left to say. He faced his (and his 60’s
contemporaries) demons head on, so that by the time ‘Zuma’ was released, there
was a natural feeling of uplift. Any
premature attempt to do this would have likely sounded contrived. Thankfully, we will never know that sound.
Neil Young has done a lot of great work with a lot of great
musicians, but I believe it’s his band Crazy Horse that has emboldened him
most. Perhaps it’s because 2014 was the
Chinese Year of the Horse, but I
found myself turning to the Crazy Horse albums when I needed a bit of creative
spark in my writing from time to time. That
simple, driving, relentless beat of this faithful band can be hypnotizing. I’ve had the opportunity to see it live on a
handful of occasions (most recently, 2013) and this year I finally dedicated
time to listen to their deeper cuts. I
was not disappointed. Heck, T-Bone was the centerpiece to one of my
‘Forever Young’ blog entries. That alone
should be testament enough to my admiration.
A few songs in Young’s catalog hit me like a ton of bricks this
year. There was Lookout Joe off of ‘Tonight’s the Night’, and Truth Be Known off of ‘Mirror Ball’ and Love and War off ‘Le Noise’ and the title track off ‘Time Fades
Away’ and Barstool Blues off ‘Zuma’. These songs stared out at me in the past, but
they entered another level of my consciousness this time around. I got the same boost with a number of Rolling
Stones songs several years ago. It’s a
bonus to this intense process I suppose.
These gems now stand hand in hand with other Neil Young songs that were
already masterpieces to me, including Ordinary
People, Harvest, Walks Like a Giant, Long May You Run, Powderfinger, Someday,
Wrecking Ball, Horseshoe Man, Razor Love and Change Your Mind. When you
feel a song to the degree that I have felt these songs, you know there is
something special there. For that feeling
alone, which hit me blindside on these handfuls of occasions, I believe this
process was worthwhile.
Where Neil Young seems to take his biggest risks are in his
experiments with sound. 'Trans', 'Le
Noise', 'A Letter Home' and ‘Landing on Water’ are all pivotal albums in this
regard. I tried explaining what I heard
in this music, but occasionally it got difficult. The echoing sounds of 'Le Noise' in
particular brought me somewhere I could not put my finger on despite repeated
listening. I kept on thinking of Howard
Blake’s Walking in the Air (from The
Snowman), but the feelings I get from that are just as fascinatingly mysterious. Several times I felt close to interpreting
the feeling, but then it would wisp away in a flash. As Iris Dement once sang, sometimes you just
got to let the mystery be. Most of the
time however, I think I got what I was looking for in word.
I found this year a bit more challenging than when I wrote about
the Rolling Stones. When I wrote about
the Stones, I had a chance to bounce around some, seeing as my interest is
almost equally divided among its members, present and past. For the most part, Neil Young is known as a
solo artist, despite the fact that he has accompaniment on most of his songs,
and so topics and themes took a bit more effort as the entries mounted. Perhaps I should have stopped at 30, although
I believe I had a pretty good stretch there near the end that could have been
missed otherwise. Anyhow, this will also
be a challenge for Bob Dylan, but that’s a subject for another time.
Neil Young has done an amazing job of avoiding hubris, which has
brought down many in his field. This is
the key reason for his longevity. Young
was 34 when he toured ‘Rust Never Sleeps’.
In that footage, he looks as if he is 24. He’s svelte and wiry. By that time, many of his generation were
looking their age and then some. Neil
Young is no angel and has consumed his fair share of substances. But everyone who looks younger than their
years has some secret. For Young, it’s
his ability to sidestep pride. As is the
case with Leonard Cohen, who just released a fantastic album at the age of 80,
Neil Young could be producing quality for many years to come for this very
reason.
A general rule of mine with these blog writings has been to stay
on the positive side of the ledger, but with Neil Young and his passion for singing
about hot ticket items like contrived wars and global warming and racism and inequity,
there was no avoiding my dipping into these issues. It was somewhat easy to do, since I
sympathize with most of Young’s protestations, but it still broke me out of the
mold. But like I said to my Mom a month
or so ago, you can’t ignore what’s gnawing at you. It’s got to come out. So I wrote on these topics here and
there. Considering the central figure,
it would have been a sham not to have.
A few potential entries will be left on the vine. I flirted with songs like Stringman and Touch the Night and My Boy
and Hitchhiker and Philadelphia and The Loner, but nothing beyond a few sentences ever materialized out
of these. They are all magnificent songs,
as are so many others in Neil Young’s catalog that I had to pass on. However, I believe the 50 songs chosen
represent the broad swath of what this musician brings to the table.
I’d like to thank everyone for their support, particularly my
wife Nancy and my brother Fred. Laying ones
thoughts out on the line can on occasion feel as if you are out on a limb, so
the support is much appreciated. I’d
also like to thank my good friend Jeff Strause, who gives me insights to the
times that preceded my own formative years (late 60s and early 70s) as well as to
what is happening now (I don’t know of
anyone that comes close to having attended the number of shows Jeff has in his
lifetime). And also Chris Brady, who sent me some great
live Neil Young music, which definitely helped to stimulate ideas throughout
the year.
And finally, I’d like to make another nod to Bob Bouvier, who
opened the door to my deeper interest and insights into Neil Young’s music, and
to whom this ‘Forever Young’ series is dedicated to. Cortez
the Killer is chosen as the final entry with Bouv in mind (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-b76yiqO1E
) . Back
in 1986, when I attended my first Crazy Horse show with Bob, it was this song
that captivated us the most. The
self-dubbed “3rd best Garage Band in the World”, were immersed in
piped-in ‘fog’, and Young came “dancing” out of it. One could almost picture Cortez making his
way on to North American soil for the first time, Montezuma awaiting, not yet
realizing the implications. Young blends
history, myth and love into this song (“and
I know she’s living there, and she loves me to this day”). This can be said for many other songs in his
catalog, (i.e. Southern Man, a story
about lynching, which includes “Lily
Belle, your hair is golden brown”). It’s
never simple with Neil Young. There are
always multiple levels and numerous possible entry points.
I’ll close with the ending set of lyrics in Thrasher:
But me I'm not stopping there,
Got my own row left to hoe
Just another line in the field of time
When the thrashers comes, I'll be stuck in the sun
Like the dinosaurs in shrines
But I'll know the time has come
To give what's mine.
Neil Young has always
set the bar high for himself, which comes through in these lyrics. I hope that I followed his lead this year
with these ‘Forever Young’ blog entries.
-
Pete
