Neil Young Albums (38)
What The Critics Say
It somehow is fitting that Fork in the Road arrived in stores a week after President Barack Obama announced his bail-out plan for the American automobile industry: it's Neil Young's one-man campaign to remind everybody what cars used to mean and what they should be again. Neil always has had a soft spot for cars -- he drove a hearse from Toronto to Los Angeles, immortalizing the vehicle in "Long May You Run" -- so this album-length motor manifesto couldn't be called unexpected, nor could its palpable, ever-flowing undercurrent of nostalgia be a surprise for a man who owns a toy train company. Plus, romanticizing the classic years of Detroit is natural; those big boats were gorgeous, so unlike the colorless, characterless sedans that rule the road these days. Neil knows this and knows that dependence on oil is crippling the culture, not to mention the environment, and is enough of an evangelist to cobble together his own green machine, putting an electric engine in a 1959 Lincoln Continental, driving the car to Washington and writing a whole album about the vehicle and its downtrodden times. Fittingly, Fork in the Road is like his Lincvolt: it has a new engine in an old body, so it has all of the classic contours but runs a little differently. The Lincvolt might be smooth and efficient, but Fork in the Road is charmingly clunky, a side effect of its quick creation and Young's hard-headedness. Neil might be writing records as quickly as a blogger these days but musically he's stuck in the past, never letting go of his chunky Les Paul and candied folk harmonies, embracing his status as an old crank so enthusiastically he happily presents himself as a crazy old coot on the album's cover. At times, he certainly does sound like the resident codger, snarling about the fading economy and how everybody's been downsized, good naturedly sneering "big rock star/my sales have tanked/I still got you/thanks" on the title track. Despite the undercurrent of auto nostalgia here, Young isn't living in the past and he's keenly aware of the present. This blend of dreamy thoughts of yesteryear, spitting fury over the present, and planning for the future gives Fork in the Road a bit of a kick that propels it through a few songs that aren't much more than a garage groove, but the whole thing benefits from its messiness; the loose ends make it feel alive. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In a move that deliberately echoes the rush release of "Ohio" in the wake of the Kent State shootings, Neil Young bashed out his 2006 protest record Living with War in a matter of days, sometimes recording songs the day they were written, and then seized the opportunities of the digital age by streaming the entire album on his website only weeks after it was recorded, with the official digital and CD releases trailing several days later. It's the best use yet of the instant, widespread distribution that the Web has to offer, and it also hearkens back to the days when folk music was topical, turning the news into song. But if the ballads of the 19th century were passed along gradually, growing along the way, or if the protest tunes of the folk revival of the 1950s and '60s grew in stature being performed regularly, gaining strength as singer after singer sang them, Living with War captures a specific moment in time: early 2006, when George W. Bush's approval ratings slipped to the low 30s, as discontent sowed by the Iraq War, Hurricane Katrina, rising gas prices, and much more turned into a general malaise in the country (or in political shorthand, it was the moment when George W. turned into Jimmy Carter). To some, the specificity of Young's writing on Living with War will forever date it, but that's a risk with any topical folk, rock, or pop, from "We Shall Overcome" to "We Are the World" -- or "Ohio," for that matter. Young is aware of this and embraces the allegedly short shelf life of his songs for Living with War by directly addressing the political turmoil in the U.S.A. in 2006 and the real human wreckage it has left behind. As such, it will function as a vivid document of its era, as much as any journalism of its time, but Living with War isn't rock-as-CNN: it's a work of art, and it's a canny one at that, with Young drawing on familiar words and music to create both historic and emotional context for his songs. It's not merely clever that "Living with War" quotes "The Star Spangled Banner," or that "Flags of Freedom" consciously reworks Dylan's "Chimes of Freedom" -- it helps tie Young's work to the past and gives his new work greater resonance. And nowhere is that more true than on "Let's Impeach the President" and how its melody recalls "The City of New Orleans" to help underscore what was lost in the government's bungled reaction to Katrina's devastation to the legendary American city. With a grandstanding title like that, along with its George W. soundbites, "Let's Impeach the President" is the flashiest song here, and it crystallizes what's good about the album: sure, it pulls no punches and it's angry, but it's not just ranting; it's artfully written and effective, as is Living with War as a whole. It's not perfect, but it has a vitality lacking in Young's recorded work of the last 15 years or so, and its blend of Greendale's loud, meandering guitar rock and the bittersweet mournful, aging hippie vibe of Prairie Wind is not only appealing, it's better executed than either of those good yet flawed records -- and that execution not only applies to the ragged glory of the recording, but to the songs themselves. They manage to be unified in a way that Young wanted Greendale to be but didn't quite pull off, yet they also stand on their own and are, overall, more memorable than those on Prairie Wind. And that's the reason why, politics aside, Living with War stands as a very strong, effective Neil Young album that will continue to have a punch long after the George W. Bush administration has faded into the history books. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Since Prairie Wind is a return to the soft, lush country-rock sound of Harvest; since Neil Young suffered a brain aneurysm during its recording; since it finds the singer/songwriter reflecting on life and family in the wake of his father's death; and since it's his most cohesive album in a decade, it would seem that all these factors add up to a latter-day masterpiece for Young, but that's not quite the case. Prairie Wind manages to be less than the sum of its parts and the problem isn't a lack of good songs (although it does have a few more clunkers than it should) or a botched concept. Young's decision to revive the country-rock that brought him his greatest popularity never feels like a cynical move -- the music is too warm, comfortable, and friendly to feel like anything but Neil playing to his strengths. However, since he cut this in Nashville with a bunch of studio pros including legendary keyboardist Spooner Oldham, it feels just a tad slicker than perhaps it should, since the smooth sound inadvertently highlights the sentimentality of the project. It's hard to begrudge Young if he wants to indulge in rose-colored memories -- a brush with death coupled with a loss of a parent tends to bring out sentimentality -- but such backward-gazing songs as "Far from Home" feel just a hair too close to trite, and the easy-rolling nature of the record doesn't lend them much gravity. There a few other songs that tend toward too close to the simplistic, whether it's the specific invocations of 9/11 and Chris Rock on "No Wonder" or the supremely silly Elvis salute "He Was the King," which are just enough to undermine the flow of the album, even if they fit into the general autumnal, reflective mood of the record. But since they do fit the overall feel of the album, and since they're better, even with their flaws, than the best songs on, say, Silver & Gold or Broken Arrow or Are You Passionate?, they help elevate the whole of Prairie Wind, particularly because there are some genuinely strong Young songs here: the moody opener "The Painter," the gently sighing "Fallin' off the Face of the Earth," the ethereal "It's a Dream," the sweet, laid-back "Here for Your," the understated "This Old Guitar" (there's also the sweeping "When God Made Me," recorded complete with a gospel chorus, one that will either strike a listener as moving or maudlin -- a latter-day "A Man Needs a Maid," only not as strong). This set of songs does indeed make Prairie Wind a better album than anything Young has released in the past decade, which means that it's easy to overrate it. For despite all of its strengths, neither the recording nor the songs are as memorable or as fully realized as his late-'80s/early-'90s comeback records -- Freedom, Ragged Glory, and Harvest Moon -- let alone his classic '70s work. Nevertheless, it's the closest Young has come to making a record that could hold its own with those albums in well over a decade, which means it's worthwhile even if it's never quite as great as it seems like it could have been. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Neil Young had been playing with Booker T & the MG's since the mid-'90s, touring heavily with the Stax house band, but the soul grooves on 2002's Are You Passionate?, the first album he cut with the group as a backing band, still comes as a surprise. It could be because that even when he assembled the Bluenotes for the proto-neo-swing This Note's for You, he never tried to be as warm, seductive and romantic as he does. That's right, the title is no joke - this is a romantic album, grounded with tight southern soul rhythms and dressed in Neil's signature fuzz tone Les Paul. No matter the topic of the song, the essential sound is the same: a lazy soul groove, built on what Booker T & the MG's did in the late '60s, vamping over Neil's three chords as he croons, usually in a falsetto but sometimes in a gruff lower-register, while kicking out a variation of the "I Can't Turn You Loose" (most notably heard on the opener, "You're My Girl," but rearing its head elsewhere). This is even true of "Let's Roll," a song inspired by the final words of Todd Beamer, one of the passengers on Flight 93 that helped overtake terrorists intent on flying a plane into Washington DC; though it's one of the first major post-9-11 songs, written by an artist notorious for his support of Reagan, it is neither reactionary nor all that moving - mostly, it just sounds like another mid-tempo groover on an album filled with them. And that's the main problem with the record - though it reads well on paper, and is certainly more ambitious than any Neil Young record in years, the songs aren't distinctive or developed, and, apart from the rather muscular Crazy Horse- backed "Goin' Home," they're all delivered in the same fashion, and all blend together. Instead of sounding like a refreshing change of pace, it's a muddled, aimless affair from an artist that's had too many middling efforts over the last decade. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'Road Rock, Vol. 1: Friends & Relatives'
Release Date 11/21/2000
Tracks 8
Label Reprise
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Neil Young's 2000 summer tour brought forth Road Rock, Vol. 1, a live album recorded on September 19 and 20 at the Red Rocks concert venue in Denver. The eight-song set features one previously unreleased track "Fool for Your Love"; other highlights include an 18-minute version of "Cowgirl in the Sand" and a duet with the Pretenders' Chrissie Hynde on Bob Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower." (The Pretenders served as opening act for several of the dates on Young's Music in Head tour.) Road Rock, Vol. 1 also includes rarely performed songs resurrected for the tour, including "Walk On," "Words," and "Motorcyle Mama" from his 1978 album Comes a Time. The album is being credited to "Neil Young Friends and Relatives," most likely a reference to the fact that his wife Pegi and sister Astrid perform as backup vocalists in the group, which also includes longtime associate Ben Keith on steel guitar, Booker T. and the MGs and Blues Brothers bassist Donald "Duck" Dunn, soul legend Spooner Oldham on keyboards, and session drummer Jim Keltner. ~ Zac Johnson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Silver & Gold went through a number of incarnations before it was finally released in the spring of 2000. The endless delays raised hopes for the album, as did superstition -- dedicated Neil Young fans believed he was creatively reborn at the end of each decade. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, Rust Never Sleeps, and Freedom added credence to this theory, but those records were knocked out quickly, appearing a year after their predecessors. In contrast, Silver & Gold appeared four years after Broken Arrow. During those four years, all sorts of projects were in the works for Young, including a 1999 reunion with Crosby, Stills & Nash. His three songs on their comeback Looking Forward were pleasant acoustic numbers that often seemed a little slight. It was easy to assume that Young was saving the real treasures for his solo record, but Silver & Gold doesn't confirm that theory. Instead, it's a continuation of his Looking Forward contributions, performed with the warm, amiable ramble of Harvest Moon. A pleasant sound, to be sure, but not exactly what Young followers were expecting. They also may be a little dismayed to realize that two of its best songs, "Silver & Gold" and "Razor Love," date from 1982 and 1987, respectively, suggesting that Neil may not be at the top of his game. Still, there are no truly bad songs here, although the light-hearted, light-headed reminiscence "Buffalo Springfield Again" treads close to the borderline. It's a low-key, charming, comfortable record, which is hardly a bad thing at all -- it just doesn't quite live up to the abnormally high expectations. Fortunately, those expectations fade upon repeated plays, and Silver & Gold reveals itself as a nice Neil Young record. Nothing particularly special, but nice all the same. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
As Neil Young's second double live album of the '90s, Year of the Horse could seem a little redundant. After all, Weld was useful since it appeared ten years after the release of Live Rust, Young & Crazy Horse's first double live album, and it captured them at their peak. Year of the Horse, however, appeared merely five years after Weld, and in between those two records, Young had only released two albums' worth of material that suited these high-voltage, improvised performances. These factors didn't matter since Young decided to allow Jim Jarmusch to make a film documentary about his 1996 tour, and Year of the Horse is the album that was released to coincide with the movie. (It's not really a soundtrack, since these performances don't appear in the film.) Many of the songs here haven't made Young's previous live albums, and there are enough strong moments to make Year of the Horse worthwhile for die-hard fans. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In many ways, Broken Arrow follows the same path as Neil Young's other '90s albums with Crazy Horse. Broken Arrow floats on waves of lumbering guitars and cascading feedback, ebbing and flowing with winding solos and drifting melodies. In a typical display of artistic perversion, Young has front-loaded the album with three epics with a combined running time of just over 25 minutes. Following the three epic-length songs come four concise tunes that range from the country-rock stomp of "Changing Highways" to the reflective "Music Arcade." Like the three songs that preceded them, these songs are uneven, with hazy melodies and underdeveloped lyrics. Finally, a long, live workout of Jimmy Reed's "Baby, What You Want Me to Do" -- which sounds like it was taken from an audience recording -- is tacked onto the end of the album. Although the song is a standout, it raises the question: what is the purpose of Broken Arrow? The album floats from song to song, with the guitars drowning out the sound of Young's voice. There are some fine songs buried amid the long jams, but the album is directionless, and that lack of direction never manages to develop a consistent emotional tone. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Even within the unpredictable Neil Young discography, this qualifies as one of his most unpredictable efforts. This soundtrack to the Jim Jarmusch film Dead Man is entirely instrumental, with the exception of some poetry read by Johnny Depp (who stars in the film) and a bit of dialogue. What's more, these untitled instrumental passages are dominated by subterranean guitar rumbles that manage to sound both grungy and subdued. Young also takes care to vary his approach a bit, switching occaionally to pump organ, detuned piano, and acoustic guitar. The results not only evoke the hostile, desolate landscapes of the film's Old West, but work on their own terms as ambient mood music for the non-new age crowd, creating an atmosphere of restless disturbance with subtlety and grace. It's not necessarily for the typical Neil Young fan (whoever that might be), but it's certainly one of his most successful experimental efforts. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Neil Young uses Pearl Jam on Mirror Ball much as he has used his perennial backup band Crazy Horse, looking for feel and spontaneity. At the start of the record, he can be heard instructing them: "No tuning, nothing," and the take of "I'm the Ocean" is an obvious run-through that became a master take. But Pearl Jam is not Crazy Horse; in place of the latter's primitive, nonswinging sound, the former boasts spirited rhythms and dense guitar interplay that Young makes excellent use of in a series of songs built out of simple, melodic rifts. Those songs come mostly in pairs: "Song X" and "Act of Love," the first two tracks, both seem to be about abortion, especially in its religious aspect, each containing a reference to "the holy war"; "What Happened to Yesterday" and "Fallen Angel" are song fragments on which Young plays the pump organ; and "Downtown" and "Peace and Love" find Young addressing the musical and philosophical concerns of hippies and contain name checks of Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon, and Led Zeppelin. The songs also share highly imagistic lyrics that are allusive and frequently just obscure. At their best, notably on "I'm the Ocean" and "Scenery," they provide intriguing portraits of the artist -- "People my age/They don't do the things I do," Young sings in "Ocean" -- while "Scenery" is one of his bitter denunciations of celebrity. Such subject matter is not new for Young, and Mirror Ball is typically uneven. But it is always interesting musically, suggesting that he has found another catch-up that works. Probably due to the commercial power of Pearl Jam, the album became Young's highest charting record since Harvest 23 years earlier, though it had a relatively short chart life. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
