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Nick Morgan and crew
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Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
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NEIL YOUNG
Hammersmith Apollo, London, March 14th 2008 |
| Neil
Young has something of a reputation
for being a truculent performer – but he’s
certainly not reluctant. Tonight was supposed to
have been the first of a two-night stint at the
Hammersmith Apollo, but such was the demand for
tickets that four more nights were squeezed in here
(all sold out I believe) between trips to Edinburgh
and Manchester. Such is the appeal of a timeless
elder statesman of rock, who has of course only
recently survived a brief encounter with mortality.
But despite his rather (possibly contrived) shambolic
demeanour he doesn’t look (or sound) the worse
for it. And by his own standards he’s very
engaged with the audience, enjoying a sort of grumpy
badinage throughout the two halves (acoustic first,
electric second) of a three -hour-plus set. Maybe
that’s because long time collaborator Tim
Pope is here making a film. Or maybe that’s
just how he likes it. |
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| The
stage is decked out like a film studio, and at the
back roadie and sometime artist Eric Johnson is
working on a series of canvases (apparently it’s
‘conceptual’). There are film crew everywhere,
and I’m glad not to be seated too close to
the front of the stage where their presence is clearly
unavoidably intrusive. But Mr Young is protected
from them, and the audience, by a comforting circle
of instruments, seven guitars and a banjo. There
are at least three Martins and a couple of big twelve
strings. As he moves in and out of the circle to
the pianos on either side of the stage he does that
thing which all people do if you have guitars in
the house, which is just run your thumb along the
strings close to the top of the fret board. It’s
a gesture of affection as much as anything else,
because guitars are more than just guitars, they’re
friends. “You’re not listening”
says Young to a song-calling crowd as he strokes
the twelve strings, each in a different open tuning.
“You’re not listening. These guitars
are getting on real fine” He picks up one
of the Martins, “Now this one really turned
on me last night…” and plays (as I recall)
‘Love art blues’ before returning the
guitar to its stand with a caress of real affection.
He’s just as fond of his pianos, slowly stroking
the side of the ‘psychedelic’ baby grand
before playing a haunting version of ‘A man
needs a maid’. |
| It’s
a wonderful hour and a half: starting with ‘From
Hank to Hendrix’ and finishing with ‘Old
man’, he delivers in between a thoughtful
selection of his moving (‘Don’t let
it bring you down’) and sometimes funny (‘Old
King’) songs. His harmonica playing is exceptional
and his voice achingly vulnerable – if the
passage of time has done anything to his singing
it’s made it a better vehicle for his songs
than it was. The audience are loving it –
this is what the majority of them have come for
– and even the song-shouters give up their
griping towards the end. Indeed I note that a number
of the crowd leave after this first set –
no doubt because they know only too well what to
expect in the second. I can see that those who don’t,
who have somehow managed to keep the Neil Young
of Crazy Horse out of their minds, are frankly shocked
as the second half begins, with Johnson introducing
each song – music hall style, with a canvas
on the right hand side of the stage, and Young launching
into some mayhem guitar on his old black Gibson
Les Paul. |
Les
Paul Classic |
| It’s
not quite Crazy Horse, but with Ralph Molina on
drums, Rick Rosas
on bass, and Ben
Keith on guitars it’s close enough (Young’s
wife Pegi, who opened the show, joins occasionally
on vocals and glockenspiel, as does Anthony Crawford
on vocals and keyboards). Molina is awesome, but
I imagine that having played with Young for so long
he’s always able to second guess where he’s
going, particularly during the frequent and prolonged
denouements to each song. Young’s guitar playing,
I wrote in my little black notebook, ‘combines
gravitas with a barely concealed adolescent fury’
particularly during his lengthy solo on ‘No
hidden path’, much of which is spent facing
up to a huge yellow light on the right of the stage.
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| It’s
a wonderfully hit and miss style, fuzzy and feedback
fuelled, it’s raw, raucous and thoroughly
self-indulgent, just the sort of stuff we’d
all like to play in our living rooms if our neighbours
would let us. And although it is loud, it’s
nothing like the volume of his set with Crazy Horse
at the Fleadh seven years ago, when I swear I thought
it was impossible for so few people to make so much
noise. But everything gets the noise treatment,
even if there are some delicate moments –
‘Too far gone’, ‘Powderfinger’,
it’s noise all the way through to encores
‘Cinnamon girl’ and ‘Tonight’s
the night’. |
| Did
I mention the ovation that Young got when he took
the stage at the start of the show? It was huge
– almost overwhelming I would have thought.
It was even bigger when he left about three and
a half hours later after an almost flawless performance
(bearing in mind, of course, that flaws define Young’s
approach to both recording and performance). |
He’s
playing in continental Europe later in the summer,
and will be back for some festivals in the UK
– so should you have a chance I would urge
you to go and see him. Forget what the cynics
say about ageing rock stars – here’s
a man at the top of his game. - Nick Morgan
(concert photographs by Kate)
Kate's
gig photo album 
Music:
Neil Young's MySpace
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Check
the index of all reviews:
Nick's Concert Reviews
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