Still Young after all these years, Part 1

When I was a freshman in college, I was at a talent show on campus when a guy got up with his acoustic guitar and harmonica and performed Neil Young's "Heart of Gold." This became a defining moment for me. I was impressed. I'd never seen anyone play the harmonica with one of those harmonica holders; plus, the student's name was Homer, which would have made him cool even without the talent.

The next day I went to a music store, bought a G-harp and one of those holder things (is there a name for those?), and proceeded to spend hours in my dorm room learning to play "Heart of Gold." (I'd like to offer belated apologies to my roommate.) Over the years, I've performed that song multiple times at church and college events. If you mention my name to students who attended Cascade College, they probably won't remember much about my writing and literature classes. They'll be more likely to say something like "Oh yeah, he's the guy that always played Neil Young and Bob Dylan songs." I later added a couple of Dylan tunes to my repertoire that allowed me to leverage my investment in the harmonica and holder, but my skill level with the harmonica never progressed beyond those few tunes.

What did progress was my fascination with the music of Neil Young. His songs have been faithful companions to me over many years, stretching from my high school days until the present. If someone wanted to make a video of my life and times (no one's offered so far), the songs of Neil Young would make the perfect soundtrack. I can visualize it.

The story would begin with my life as a shy and awkward teenager looking for love ("See the lonely boy/Out on the weekend/Tryin' to make it pay/Can't relate to joy/Tries to speak and/Can't begin to say"); proceed to the birth of political and social awareness in my twenties ("Tin soldiers and Nixon coming/We're finally on our own/This summer I hear the drumming/Four dead in Ohio"); capture my growing environmental awareness in my thirties ("Oh, Mother Earth with your fields of green/Once more laid down by the hungry hand/How long can you give and not receive/And feed this world ruled by greed"); reflect my appreciation for friends and family in my forties ("We've been through some things together/With trunks of memories still to come/We've found things to do in stormy weather/Long may you run"); and highlight my growing religious progressivism and political liberalism in my fifties ("Was he thinkin' about my country or the color of my skin?/Was he thinkin' 'bout my religion and the way I worshiped him?/Did he create just me in his image or every living thing?/When God made me").



But enough about me. What I really wanted to write about is Young's music and explore why this singer/songwriter has been such an influential figure in my life. But I've realized that you can't really write about Neil Young's music without writing about Neil Young the person (or perhaps the "persona" that he's created with his music).


I'm no music critic, but I think it's safe to say with Neil it all starts with the voice--that unmistakeable, haunting voice. A Rolling Stone writer put it this way:



An engineer at an early Neil Young studio session told him, "You're a good guitar player, kid, but you'll never make it as a singer." But Young soon proved himself able to convey emotional truths with a sound no one else could produce — a quavering, lonesome tenor that works equally well over the crazed distortion of Crazy Horse and the acoustic chords of his ballads. "It's very difficult for anyone else to sing his stuff," says David Crosby. "You go somewhere when Neil sings — you definitely don't just stay in your seat." Says Lucinda Williams, "That voice summons up something. It's ethereal, spooky, soulful, and completely unique to him." 

I remember loaning a Neil Young album to a college friend who attended another Christian university. Next time I saw him, he said he loved the album, but his suite mates wouldn't let him play it. Apparently Neil's piercing vocals and guitar solos on "Down by the River" didn't fit well with the Christian soft rock preferred by his fellow students.

Speaking of guitar solos, Young's guitar playing, like his voice, is unique. Again from Rolling Stone:

If I was ever going to teach a master class to young guitarists, the first thing I would play them is the first minute of Neil Young's original "Down by the River" solo. It's one note, but it's so melodic, and it just snarls with attitude and anger. It's like he desperately wants to connect. Neil's playing is like an open tube from his heart right to the audience.

The above descriptions of Young's vocals and his guitar playing provide some helpful windows into his persona.  Three words are especially telling: lonesome, unique, and desperate. I'll cover those in my next post.  Until then, you might want to relive the 70s with a little classic Neil Young:

I want to live,
I want to give
I've been a miner
for a heart of gold.
It's these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
Keeps me searching
for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.