Wednesday, September 22nd 2010

Reviews:  Neil Young

Neil Young’s Reflective Revival

By Johnny Firecloud

A modern-grit reflective masterpiece wasn’t exactly what Neil Young had in mind when he sat down to write Le Noise, but the greatest creations never seem to fit their intended mold.

This eight-song album is a collaboration between the Rock icon and Grammy-winning producer/songwriter Daniel Lanois, known for his work with U2, Bob Dylan, Peter Gabriel, Brian Eno and many more. The title is an obvious wink to Young’s new recording partner, whose nuanced expressions in production – whether through looped vocals, electronic enhancements or instrumental character wizardry – played an elemental role in the album’s powerful flavor.

The duo’s musical relationship has been forged over the course of many years and many music events, but Le Noise marks the first time the two have recorded together. Laid down at Lanois’ home in the hipster mecca known as the Silverlake area of Los Angeles, Le Noise features Young on uniquely designed acoustic and electric guitars with Lanois’ trademark sonic coloring, resulting in an intensely captivating sound. There is no band, there are no overdubs – just “a man on a stool and me doing a nice job on the recording,” as Lanois puts it.

A specially-designed hollow-body Gretsch electric is the primary tool throughout Le Noise, sporting a growly tone not far from Mirrorball‘s punky rawness (Angry World is a clear-cut comparative, as is Sign of Love – a track completely owned by the mean-fuzz downstrokes of the guitar). The four-dimensional sound is a fascinating feature for a (somewhat) acoustic guitar, a rich, beautiful low end without the typical bleeding fuzz. A tremolo amplifier and an intensified bass response on the lower two strings fills out the bottom, while a pickup that re-creates the sound of the human voice allows it to loop and echo through the track.

“Neil was so appreciative of the sonics that we presented to him,” Lanois tells Billboard. “He walked in the door and I put an acoustic guitar into his hands – one that I had been working on to build a new sound. I wanted him to understand that I’ve spent years dedicated to the sonics in my home and that I wanted to give him something he’d never heard before. He picked up that instrument, which had everything – an acoustic sound, electronica, bass sounds – and he knew as soon as he played it that we had taken the acoustic guitar to a new level. It’s hard to come up with a new sound at the back end of 50 years of rock and roll, but I think we did it.’

The resulting sound is fantastic, a fullness that serves as the train on which we’re taken to a place of renewed vitality from a man known for his searing meditations on planetary ruin and the quest for true love’s compassion in a sea of empty hearts. Staying true to the emotion of the moment was crucial to the recording, which took place over the span of four full moons.

In the following inspiring making-of video,  Lanois explains the mindset, atmosphere, work ethic and emotional snowballing effect that the experience produced on record:

The revitalization of focused purpose is immediately apparent in opener Walk With Me, a high-stepping yet prickly love song where the tenderness is more of a scar than an entry point. At the three minute mark, just before the song dissolves into a beautifully dissonant mess of loops, blips and reverb, you can hear Young lament, “I lost some people I was travelling with, I miss the soul and the old friendship”. Bereavement is the subtle flavor here, the ever-shifting cloud beneath the water’s surface that gives Le Noise a subtle poignance.

The stark vulnerability to the album evokes Dylan’s magnificent Time Out Of Mind, determinedly moving forward despite the lingering pain of cruel reality. The weight of mortality is far more than a mere dramatic device; within the last year, two of Young’s closest friends and collaborators died – filmmaker Larry “L.A.” Johnson and multi-instrumentalist/producer Ben Keith. Keith’s death leaves a hole in Young’s touring band that’s forever altered the icon’s live performance.

“There is about 70 percent of my repertoire that I will never do again (with a band),” Young tells the Chicago Tribune. “There is no sense in trying to redo what was already great. There’s no payoff in that. That’s not what I’m about. I’m thankful to have known Ben and played with him for 40 years. He was one of my best friends and I miss him very much. I don’t see myself playing those songs with a band in the future. I can play them by myself, but I can’t play them with a band. I just don’t think I could handle it. I don’t know anybody who can do what he did. It closes a door on a period of my life, and it also opens up a giant space for me to be creative in the future.”

Love and War evokes a naked vulnerability, a bald attempt to understand his creative responses to life, admitting that he doesn’t actually know what the hell he’s singing about, but he’s trying to capture the feeling of the returning themes of love and war he’s seen over his many years. With shades of Spanish overtones and a riff that hints briefly at Hey Hey, My My, the song is a disarming study on the juxtaposing stars under which our existences unfold.

The riff of Someone’s Gonna Rescue You is classic, captivating Neil through and through, one of several clear-bell indicators as to why Pearl Jam has designated “Uncle Neil” as their lo-fi godfather inspiration. Another beacon, the brilliant narcotic confessional Hitchhiker was written back in the ’70s, but an official recording never saw the light of day until now. Rife with candidly reflective drug retellings (“You didn’t see me in Toronto when I first tried out some hash / smoked through a pen and I’d do it again, but I didn’t have the cash”), the longing for the carefree simplicity of chasing the adventure rings painfully true. Tales of paranoia and chasing the dream to California guide him through the hard living of white drug immersion, while alternating riffs – one potent and energized, the other chorus-baiting open strumming – indicate the old man’s energy countering his youthful self in conveyance.

Cash or Dylan may have turned to a final verse to sum up what the past has done to him, counting the toll of his reckless experimentalism. Young, however, doesn’t hold a shamed candle for his mind expansion, but rather closes by counting his appreciations for what he has now, free of pining for an era gone by. The psychedelic vocal-pulse ending gives a final gravitas to the story before the gorgeous, clean opening of album highlight Peaceful Valley Boulevard.

Every so often you’ll hear a song that immediately plants a flag of permanence, a new impression upon our concepts of greatness. Peaceful Valley Boulevard is one such song, a devastating acoustic feat of storytelling with a gorgeous riff progression, anchored by a full, warm bass end. Somber and contemplatively crushing, it’s a desert hymnal for our modern ruin, a damning chronicle of America’s brutal and reckless rise to power. The depth of despair is conveyed through a hauntingly captivating solo before asking, “Who’ll be the beacon in the night? Who’ll be the one to lead this world? Who’ll be the one to lead the nations, and protect God’s creations?” Desperate to believe, aching for a sign of sanity in the asylum city, Neil finds none.

And so he returns to his personal quest for redemption in the closer, Rumblin. Full of questions on learning how to listen, give back, to heal, it’s a yearning, pensively optimistic tune that would deliver just as powerfully on a raw acoustic. The increasingly confident build suggests that he’s finding the trail, picking up the scent of the direction of his own personal evolution. A fantastic way to end, and on repeat, Walk With Me kicks off the album once more, and fills the heart with self-affirming confirmation that he’s well on his way to some of those answers.

It’s roughly once a decade that Neil has upped his own ante, from his sophomore album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere to 1979′s punk-rooted Rust Never Sleeps and 1989′s Freedom. Gripping, raw and perfectly seasoned with Lanois’ restrained color, Le Noise takes Young’s familiar sound and adds an entirely new testicular fortitude. The album’s got balls to match the honest heart, and will be celebrated as a late-career highlight for the revitalized icon.