INTO THE BLACK: NEIL YOUNG

Neil Young is an enigma when it comes to musical categories. He’s often been classified as part of the mellow singersongwriter school of the early 70’s, probably a direct result of his association with Crosby, Stills & Nash, as well as his flirtation with commerciality on Harvest which produced his only No. 1 single, “Heart Of Gold.” Young brought a much-needed hard rock edge with him when he added his Y to CS&N, and it’s especially evident in retrospect that his material stands out as that conglomeration’s best work. (I mean, when was the last time you listened to David Crosby’s “Almost Cut My Hair”?) Years later, when Stephen Stills was picking a fight with Elvis Costello in an Ohio bar, Neil Young was telling Newsweek: “I dig the punks. What’s healthy about them is they know it will piss off the Eagles. It’s so healthy to take pot-shots at music that’s supposed to be anti-establishment and isn’t anymore.” And yet Young continues to be embraced by folk and country rock purists as one of their own.

Of course, Young has produced some of the finest post-Dylan folk rock around. He’s perfectly comfortable with an introspective, sensitive ballad, and he continuously returns to the stylistic confines of country and folk. On the other hand, I know several “folkies” who went to see Young during his 1978 “Rust Never Sleeps” tour, and they were totally flabbergasted by what took place. The “Rust Never Sleeps” show was the monumental one in which Young attempted to put rock ’n’ roll and its pop culture aspects into a grand perspective or panorama (“It’s about American rock ’n’ roll, the whole trip,” he told Newsweek), and featured such brilliant little absurdities as Coneheads and Star Wars Jawahs dancing across the stage as Young and Crazy Horse wailed through “Cinnamon Girl.”

And wail is exactly what this band did, presenting some of the hardest rock to ever hit a stage, every bit as primal, raw and abrasive as the music of the new punk rockers who had just arrived on the scene. It was especially fitting that Young wore a Jimi Hendrix button on his guitar strap during these shows, since his guitar style owes a great deal to at least one aspect of the Hendrix legacy. In fact, his dynamic “Like A Hurricane” features feedback techniques that seem to be lifted directly from Hendrix’s version of “All Along The Watchtower.”

Young uses high-pitched harmonics, obtained by turning his guitar up as loud as he can and standing as close to the amplifiers as possible. Above the gut-wrenching, LOUD backbeat of Crazy Horse (his “rock ’n’ roll band” since 1969, which has included Nils Lofgren and former Phil Spector pal, Jack Nitzsche), Young’s guitar weeps screeching, distorted phenobarbitol riffs, almost heavy metal-like in nature. The excessive, often “sloppy” sound is both exhilirating and gloom-filled, a perfect complement to Young’s lyrics which generally encompass an ambivalent cynicism and hope. What better than a screeching guitar to reflect Young’s central themes of romantic despair (“Like A Hurricane,” “Cowgirl In The Sand”), the decay of rock ’n’ roll and its loss of innocence (Tonight's The Night, “Out Of The Blue And Into The Black,” the latter which both celebrates and laments rock music), the death of the American Dream and/or Woodstock Nation (“Ohio”) and modern alienation (“The Loner”)?

The term “survivor” has been one of the most over-used cliches of the last decade, but if anyone deserves the title, it would certainly be Neil Young. Decade, a three-album retrospective of his work released in 1978, fully demonstrated what an extraordinary career his has been, beginning in the mid-60’s with the Buffalo Springfield, one of L.A.’s finest bands. (Prior to this, Young played in a Torontobased band called the Mynah Birds, which included current Motown sensation, Rick James.) Although Buffalo Springfield is probably best remembered for Stephen Stills’ “For What It’s Worth,” Young actually composed some of the band’s best material with classics like “Mr. Soul,” “Burned” and “Broken Arrow,” the latter of which was his first use of the rock lifestyle and disillusionment as a major theme. As diversified as they come, Young can float between the folky, commerciallyappealing Harvest (which he once described as his attempt to make a record ‘“the quality of...Everly Brothers and Roy Orbison records”) and Tonight’s The Night, which dealt with the drug-related deaths of two close friends, and stands with Lou Reed’s Berlin as one of the most depressing albums the rock genre has ever produced.

With Reed, Bruce Springsteen and perhaps Elvis Costello, Neil Young stands out as one of rock’s last true romantics, trying to bridge the gap between the Utopian idealism of the 60’s and the bitter acceptance of 70’s harsh realities. If nothing else, it’s a gallant effort.