Thursday, March 28, 2024

Neil Young Spring Part One: Expecting to Fly

Part of the trick of a series like this is periodization, but in Young's case his first phase is pretty easy to divine: before Crazy Horse and after Crazy Horse. Even if he doesn't play most of his albums with the Horse, that's the moment when he went from being a member of a band to the leader of a band. His songs also picked up more confidence in that period. Young's early efforts show someone who, in the words of a song of this era, was "learning to fly."


Buffalo Springfield, 1966

When I was putting this series together I realized something that made Young different from Springsteen and Dylan: he had recorded with multiple groups. I decided not to limit this series to his solo records, since I think his time in group settings is really revealing. Young performed songs from his Buffalo Springfield days for years after so I think they should be included here. 

In the aftermath of the British Invasion the garages of North America exploded with rock bands trying to find a sound. Most of them cut a locally-released single or two then faded into obscurity. One of those bands was the Mynah Birds, Young's group after The Squires, a pre-Invasion surf rock band. He then famously moved from Canada to LA and met up with Stephen Stills to form Buffalo Springfield. Along with Love and The Doors they were part of a formidable scene that moved beyond garage rock into something more complex and profound. 

Buffalo Springfield would grow even more with their next album, but their debut puts them miles ahead of their contemporaries. "For What It's Worth," their big single (added to later versions of this album) is still used today as a shorthand for the 1960s in films and TV to the point of cliche. There's something spooky about this song and the Springfield's other best tracks on this record, like "Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing." Not every track is killer, but this is a strong first effort overall and a harbinger of what's to come. 

Rating: Three and a half Neils


Buffalo Springfield Again, 1967

Things come together much better with this album. Evidently the band took their time recording it, and it shows. It starts with "Mr Soul," an absolute barnburner where Stills and Young craft a killer twin-guitar attack. "Bluebird" contains a similar energy that pushes the song to the bursting point. I tend to like those rockers best, but there are a couple of moody, grandiose pieces by Young that point to something else: "Expecting to Fly" and "Broken Arrow." There is a painful longing in these songs that will go on to define some of his best subsequent work. Here, when he is so young, it verges on sounding adolescent and petulant. Even so, this is a fantastic record. If the band had managed to hold together I bet it would be their music, not the Eagles, all over classic rock radio for decades to come. While I would have been glad to have been spared The Eagles, we got CSN, Poco, and Neil Young's solo career out of the breakup, which is far better. 

Rating: Four and a half Neils



The Last Time Around, 1968

The last Buffalo Springfield album was mostly thrown together and Neil Young has disowned it, but I like it. There's a relaxed, hazy vibe I find appealing. "On the Way Home" and "I am a Child" are great Young compositions. Some of the songs stick out too much and others are half-baked but it's an enjoyable listen all around. The country touches point to how Richie Furay and Jim Messina would go on to form Poco, an unjustly forgotten country rock pioneer. Again, Buffalo Springfield could've been The Eagles, but better. Their three albums add up to a helluva greatest hits record, one everybody should own. 

Rating: Four Neils


Neil Young, 1968

Neil went solo with a self-titled record, a statement of independence. Believe it or not, I had never listened to this one all the way through before starting this series. It's been described as "uneven," and that's a fair assessment. The sound is very raw and moody, with Young not quite in control of the tone. "The Loner" is the key standout, one of the best songs he ever wrote. (I also used the "unplugged" version of this as a sort of personal anthem in my anti-social teenage years.)  These early records show an artist tapping into something unique and special, but he has not yet figured out to give it proper shape and definition. 

Rating: Three and a half Neils



Sugar Mountain Live At Canterbury House, recorded 1968 and released 2008

Now we are getting into Young's "archives" releases, which have more than paid off on their promise. Young had talked about it for years, building up high expectations and for once the hype was worth it. The production on his first record doesn't work for me; these solo live recordings give the songs the air they need. Young's links to what he later called "the old folkie days" are here. The eponymous song, which was later shunted off as a B-side, is one of his most beautiful. He wrote it as a 19-year old, already sad about childhood's end. I first heard it at 17 when I was having similar emotions and the song zapped me like few others ever have. This recording is interesting as a document, since it includes some hippie stage banter and a window into a lost world of folk music clubs. Young's voice and playing are top-notch and the emotions come through strong. Listening to this I can hear the seeds of the success that Young will soon harvest. (Yes, I intended that pun.)

Rating: Four and a half Neils



Live at the Riverboat 1969, released 2009

Here's another show from the Archives series from the same winter of 1968-1969. I had not heard this one before doing this project. A lot of the tracks are similar to the Sugar Mountain release, but the stage banter feels edgier in this one. The sound quality is not quite as good, but apart from that it's about the equal of the prior release. Both show that Young was maturing and ready to truly take flight. 

Rating: Four Neils

Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Introducing Neil Young Spring

I have mostly been writing over at my Substack and have been neglecting this more venerable space. Over there I wrote about the joy of reading Ulysses and the sorry state of social trust after COVID. I have been searching for a series to keep me writing over here, where I am more likely to let my freak flag fly. In the past I used full run-downs of Dylan and Springsteen albums to inspire me, and this year I figured I would devote spring on this blog to Neil Young.

Why Neil Young, apart from him being another legacy classic rock artist with a massive catalog? Well, Neil has been in the news. He is back on tour with Crazy Horse, and he has also ended his Spotify boycott. With his music more available again, I thought it would be great to give it all an evaluation. If I get a chance to see him live, this would be especially fruitful. 

I also want to add that I am one of the weirdos who subscribes to Neil's Archives site. This site allows you to hear his entire catalog of music with vastly improved sound and access to stuff you can't get elsewhere. I appreciate Young's independent-mindedness and his genuine desire to put out streaming music that sounds better. than what we get now. This also means that my series will cover EVERYTHING. I'm on break now, so get ready for the first installments to drop!

Thursday, March 7, 2024

Shadow Show, "On a Cloud" (Track of the Week)


One thing that both thrills and depresses me is that there is an unending stream of amazing new music coming out every day. The embarrassment of riches is thrilling, but the fracturing of the listening audience is depressing. It's often hard to find this new music, and when I do, it's hard to find other people digging the same thing. When the encounters do happen it's amazing. A few weeks ago I was at a record store in Hoboken and the clerk was playing an album by the Sundays, a band I've recently returned to. I enthusiastically let her know this, and later when I bought a Ween live album she returned the favor by gushing about it. 

I thought I would share some new music today so the world has a slightly better chance of hearing it. I get a lot of my new music from New Jersey's freeform station WFMU. The other day as I drove to the train station I heard a song come out of my speakers that blew me away. When I stopped at a light I immediately turned on Shazam so that this nugget would not escape me. 

The guitars shimmered and jangled with pristine, pure beauty. The tight harmonies lifted me up further, ready to face my day ahead. The song in question is "On a Cloud" by Shadow Show, which I listen to multiple times a day. I know almost nothing about this band, other than I want a way to hear this sublime sound forever. 

Falling in love with a song and a band isn't that different from falling in love with a person. The desire can be persistent, insatiable, and even maddening. I remember when I became a Bowie-head in the late 90s. I bought practically his entire back catalog on CD in less than two years (and I was broke.) It is amazing to me that I can still get that crazy feeling of connection with a band that I used to have as a teenager. It's less fun, however, if you can't share it. I recommend that you go and tell people about your favorite new song the way you did in high school. I think it will make the world a better place. 

Sunday, February 25, 2024

Ween, "Transdermal Celebration" (Track of the Week)


Life has been busy recently and I have been neglecting this blog and not cross-posting my Substack stuff. I wrote a primer on what I call "baby politics" about simple narratives low information voters have and how to address them. I also wrote about Inside Llewyn Davis and the dismal nature of February. Little did I know that things would get even worse!

Death took a relative and a colleague this week, and I took my own advice to wallow in my negative feelings a bit. After a few days I've come out on the other side and am ready to talk about the things that have been pulling me through.

One of them has been the music of Ween. They were a band I did not rate much in the 90s and early 2000s when their profile was highest. They seemed like a joke band and purveyors of the kind of deep hipster irony that I just didn't get as perhaps an overly earnest young person. My biggest encounter with them was hearing that "push the little daisies" song on Beavis and Butthead and the college radio station in grad school spinning "Bananas and Blow." 

It's fitting then that I would finally "get" Ween by hearing them on the radio. One of my favorite DJs on WFMU likes to spin them, and after loving every song he played I realized that I actually really enjoy Ween. It might be that I have started listening to lots of Zappa and Beefheart and so crave the weirdness. It might also be that I am not so earnest anymore and need to mock the world around me instead of trying so hard to fix it. Ween's irreverence has been a welcome addition to my life in a trying time. 

Hearing more of their music I also realized they have some truly heartfelt songs, and that the ironic front gets dropped in surprising and effective ways. I have been digging the Quebec album the most for that reason. I am not sure what "Transdermal Celebration" is even about, but it has a kind of joy of living beating inside it. That's a feeling that I think we could all use. Put it on and turn it up. 

Sunday, February 11, 2024

Taylor Swift Is a Welcome Distraction at America's Most Dismal Public Event


It's Super Bowl Sunday, and this is the first Super Bowl I can remember whose discourse is dominated by someone who will be merely attending the event instead of playing or performing at halftime. There's already been a secondary discourse about why the hell conservatives seem so upset at Taylor Swift. I am not here to participate in that, but to proclaim that I welcome how she has added something new and welcome to the Super Bowl mix.

The Super Bowl is by far the most dismal event in American life, and that is saying something. It is supposed to be the championship game of a sport proven to turn its participants' brains into mush, a sport defined by the American dysfunctions of violence and commercial breaks. At this point, however, the Super Bowl is not really a football game. Half of the game's viewers probably have not seen a full football game this season. They are watching because it has become a media spectacle, one of the few that exists anymore that people from the entire broad social spectrum can participate in. It's also just another excuse for the excess consumption of tasteless lite beer and garbage food. It happens on a Sunday evening to boot, making work the next day even more miserable than your average Monday.

A significant chunk of the audience is watching just for the commercials. Is there anything more dismal than advertising being turned into entertainment? The structure of football itself makes this easy, considering that it has frequent breaks, and the ball is barely in play. Famously, there are only eleven minutes of action in a broadcast that lasts over three hours, and a lot of that action is boring two yard runs up the middle. The Super Bowl thus represents the triumph of capitalism where the advertising at the game ends up being more significant than the game itself. 

Even though I can't tear my eyes away, I've long felt that the Super Bowl sucks. It's certainly appropriate that due to changes in the NFL's schedule that it is played in mid-February, the most depressing, wretched time of the year. This year, Taylor Swift's presence has led to Super Bowl backlash for all the wrong reasons from the world's most irritating reactionaries. I, on the other hand, welcome her participation. She will give something to bond with my daughters over, who are normally lukewarm on this event. Swift is a cultural phenomenon on the level of Beatlemania right now, and like Beatlemania it's a lot of fun to participate in. Certainly a lot more fun than three hours of commercials. 

Sunday, January 28, 2024

The Glory of Magazines

I was recently in New York with my children. At one point they asked to go a newsstand to see if they had a copy of the Taylor Swift cover of Time magazine (my daughters are dedicated Swifties.) It struck me in that moment that magazines occupied a very different place in their life than mine, more collectors' items than an essential part of life. 

I owe a lot of who I am to magazines. For years people would compliment me on my the breadth of my knowledge and my ability to recall random facts. I am less impressed by this than others, but I learned a lot of this stuff from being an avid magazine reader in my youth. In junior high I would walk to the public library every day after school and just raid the magazine section, which was the part of the library where I would wait to get picked up. I was not too discriminating. I read Time the most since it was the consensus news magazine at the time, but dipped a toe in Newsweek and US News. I would get intrigued by both The New Republic and The National Review, unaware of their rival ideological perspectives. In a lighter mood, I would peruse People and Life.

At home I had a prized subscription to Sports Illustrated. It gave me a far deeper understanding of the sporting world than I was getting from my daily doses of Sportscenter. I got it every Thursday, the same day my sisters and I went to piano lessons. I always finished first, then would sit on my teacher's basement floor and read the magazine. It was always such a welcome moment of solitude and discovery. At the public library I would branch out and read the now defunct Sport and Inside Sports (for some reason there was no Sporting News.) I also had a subscription to MAD magazine, a publication that greatly attuned my young bullshit detector and allowed me to look at my surroundings with a clearer eye. 

Magazines served me well later in life, too. In high school I would scour the reviews in the back of Spin magazine and use them as a guide to find the kind of indie rock albums they did not play on the radio in my neck of the woods. As a college student I did competitive debate, and to prepared by reading as much of The Economist as I could. In my off hours between classes I would go to the campus library and pick up and read magazines, recreating those middle school moments. Afterwards I had low wage jobs as a gas station and library clerk, and in both cases reading magazines at the counter helped me pass the time in that pre-cell phone world. Once I had my first real job and could afford creature comforts I immediately subscribed to the New York Review of Books and the New Yorker. As often as I could, I would pick up issues of Mojo and Uncut at the bookstore. Some of them were so dense with insights that I've held on to them through multiple decades and moves. 

Magazines have alas fallen on hard times. There's talk that Sports Illustrated will soon be dead after years on life support. Newsweek's new ownership has ties to a cult. It's also been interesting to see that we just can't give them up. When Time announced Taylor Swift as their Person of the Year it dominated public discourse for days after. Evidently the editorial decisions made by magazines still matter to people, even if they were not as seismic as Time's "Is God Dead?" cover from the 60s (or Demi Moore's nude pregnant cover photo on Vanity Fair from the 90s, for that matter.)

Being the Luddite sentimentalist that I am, I have responded to this state of affairs by subscribing to magazines. I had let my New Yorker subscription lapse years ago, but immediately resubscribed the day pandemic lockdown began. Since then a friend gifted my a Texas Monthly subscription, which I enjoyed. I have subscribed to the Atlantic and Vanity Fair (it came free with my New Yorker sub and I've enjoyed it) since then. When I went to the newsstand with my daughters I picked up the most recent New Republic and was so impressed by it that I may indeed add another subscription. Who knows, maybe I will bite the bullet and get the meaty New York Review of Books back in my life (sorry Harper's, you've gone hack.) 

Not all of these publications are paywalled, but even then, it's worth it. The experience of reading a magazine online is so erratic and fractured. When I use my New Yorker app they keep pushing little web articles responding to current events to the top of the feed. I don't subscribe to the New Yorker for that, but for the voluminous studies of subjects that I didn't know I was interested in until I picked up the magazine. Just picking up the magazine is a great experience. It is not an agglomeration of links but a carefully considered product from front to back, the result of great effort and human creativity. (The French Dispatch is one of my favorite Wes Anderson films because it understands the aesthetics of magazines, which are not replicated anywhere else.) 

I am not sure how long paper copies of all the magazines I subscribe to will even be around, so I am trying to cherish them while I can. I also think there's just a chance that they will make a comeback. My daughters have long been intrigued by my copies of the New Yorker and like to formulate their own answers to the cartoon caption contest. They have a couple of subscriptions themselves, a love that I hope will blossom. At a time when the internet has increasingly become a cesspool of AI goop interspersed with popup ads and clickbait links, a well-composed magazine is a necessary antidote. Go read them while you can and maybe we can keep them around longer. 

Monday, January 15, 2024

Iowa Caucus MLK Day Thoughts


There's an irony to the Republican Party holding their first caucus on Martin Luther King Day. On the day we honor a man who demanded that the nation live up to its oft-proclaimed ideals of freedom and justice, we are seeing a wannabe dictator whose slogan is about reversing this country's gains since MLK's times about to trounce his opponents. Nikki Haley, who is supposed to be the "moderate" alternative, is a South Carolina conservative who refused to name slavery as a cause of the Civil War. The "party of Lincoln" has become the inheritor of the Lost Cause and is the political home of the people who fought so hard to stop the civil rights movement. 

This sadly should come as no surprise. King is so universally admired and claimed today that it is hard to know that he was a controversial figure in his lifetime. The FBI had him surveilled and used that information to blackmail him and in 1966 only 27% of white Americans said they had a positive view of MLK. Those people's political children (and hell some of the original bigots are still alive) are Trump's base. 

It's also hard to remember there was a time when King even getting a holiday was controversial. Jesse Helms, the avatar of Southern white racist migration from the Democratic to the Republican Party, tried to filibuster the bill establishing the day. Ronald Reagan, president at the time, implied in his public statements that he was holding his nose and voting for the holiday out of political considerations, rather than his own convictions. Some states like Arizona did not recognize the holiday (as Public Enemy famously denounced) while others used the day to celebrate both King and Confederates. Alabama and Mississippi still celebrate King and Lee's birthday on this day

Eric Foner called Reconstruction "America's Unfinished Revolution," and Dr King's efforts were part of a Second Reconstruction that also remains unfinished. The spectacle of Republican candidates clamoring to show their opposition to birthright citizenship and their support of banning Black history in schools is proof of this (if we still needed any.) While it might be depressing to face these facts 56 years after King's death, I want to use this day as a call to action. His death and the deaths of so many others who fought for equality should not be in vain. It's up to us to carry on their legacy and vindicate them. If anything else, the spectacle in Iowa today is a reminder of the stakes.