Rock and roll is here to stay
The sound of Neil Young with Crazy Horse is unlike that of any other band. There’s a magical meeting of minds when these men get together with their guitars.
Three days and plenty of pilsners into a stay in Berlin, finally it was Sunday at the Waldbuhne, out on the western perimeter of the German capital, just near the Olympic Stadium.
It’s a pale grey evening. Not that we can see it, but the sun is slowly setting.
Two mates and I arrive at 19:00. Is that Los Lobos we can hear through the trees? You bet your David Hasselhoffs it is.
It’s still grey, but it’s getting brighter as the evening draws in. Weird.
I’ve checked my pocket for this evening’s ticket stub about a dozen times already. Twelve years ago, the NEC stewards took our ticket stubs off us - the whole of our ticket stubs! I’m still bitter about it. Why did they do that? And why did we say ‘Yes’ and just give them up?
When Shakey steps on stage it’s as bright as it’s been all day. No words, straight into Ragged Glory’s ‘Love And Only Love’, a mainstay of this – possibly the last – of Neil Young’s international tours with Crazy Horse.
At the Waldbuhne, the two-hour set has 14 songs. Three songs are from the new Psychedelic Pill album, but they do account for a whopping and some might say overly-noodling 40 minutes of that set.
Neil Young’s recent autobiography sheds fresh light on what we’re hearing and witnessing when we see them live: there’s a blinding focus on living in the music for the freshness and uniqueness of each moment. It’s a healthy obsession with the right now.
‘Walk Like A Giant’ is a damn good song. It’s a grower? The Waldbuhne, they love it! They yell along like it’s an age-old anthem, passed down through the generations. It’s a fantastic sound, but it’s not exactly ‘Walk Of Life’, is it. So it’s all the more eerie when the sing-a-long fades as the song descends into Jurassic jazz power-chords and death-march drums that seem to evoke an obsidian prehistoric apocalypse.
Back in June 2013, there’s still daylight and this is Berlin. Surely there’s one song that’s as guaranteed for this setlist as the bulge at the back of the net that comes with every German penalty against an English goalie?
“Doesn’t it ever get dark here?” asks Neil Young at around 21:30.‘Cinnamon Girl’, ‘Mr Soul’ and ‘Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black)’ are highlights in the second half of the set.
The encore is ‘Like A Hurricane’. We’ve been duped. The whole evening was in fact one extraordinary psycho-jazz-folk jam session of preparation for this aching squall of perfection. How can anyone make this kind of sound? Where does it come from?
When they leave the stage, finally it goes dark.
Nigel Watts