WINNIPEG - Neil Young's latest hometown visit was a journey through the past — and the future.
The first show of the 64-year-old folk-rock icon's two-night solo stand at Centennial Concert Hall found him dividing his time between classic hits from his vast archive and new material apparently destined for his forthcoming Daniel Lanois-produced album Twisted Road (also the title of his tour).
If that sounds like the best of both worlds, well, most of the 2,300 fans at the sold-out show would probably agree with you — despite the fact that tickets topped out at a whopping $275, or about $3 per minute for Neil's 18-song performance. Nice work if you can get it. Of course, enjoying said performance in the comfortable seats and intimate setting of the Concert Hall wasn't so bad either.
Sporting a loose-fitting white coat and a matching hat — it could have be a fedora or a Panama; I couldn't be sure from the back row — Young took the stage to a standing ovation shortly after 9 p.m. He settled into a chair, flanked by his guitars, a line of small amps, a tiny table, several ancient-looking keyboards illuminated by giant swag lamps and old-style Hollywood soundstage lights. Behind him were a wooden statue that looked like a cigar-store version of an Aztec warrior and what appeared to be four giant papier mache pillars. Arming himself with an acoustic guitar and dunking his harmonica in a glass of water, he began with a trio of oldies: Rust Never Sleep's My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue), After the Gold Rush's Tell Me Why, and Helpless, from his Deja Vu album with old comrades Crosby, Stills and Nash. His playing was simple, clean and direct, his vocals still clear and strong for man of his years. "I love you Neil!" some doofus in the balcony yelled out right off the hop (and continued to bellow for much of the set).
The doofus was not alone. Had Young continued to stroll his back catalog for the duration of the evening, I suspect no one would have minded a bit. Except perhaps Young himself. Despite his recent penchant for nostalgic reissues, he remains one of music's most fearlessly prolific artists, churning out new material as if his life (or at least his creative self-worth) depended upon it. Hey, don't take it from me: Six months ago I was lucky enough to attend a Young tribute concert held before the Grammys in L.A. After watching a couple of dozen A-listers — including Elton John, James Taylor, Sheryl Crow, CSN, Wilco, Keith Urban and Elvis Costello — play his music, Neil took the stage and remarked: "I gotta write some new songs!"
Clearly, he wasn't kidding. Nearly half his show on Monday consisted of new material. First up was one of the more plaintive ones: You Never Call, a funereal acoustic-guitar ode to longtime friend and filmmaker Larry (L.A.) Johnson, who died of a heart attack days before that Grammy tribute. "You're in heaven with nothing to do," Young sang, standing up at a mic for this one. "And all we do is work, work, work."
Next came two more acoustic newbies: The haunting dirge Peaceful Valley chronicled the settling of the American West and the devastation that followed, its dark lyrics set to a flamenco-flecked guitar line that switched between a low spaghetti-western rumble and high notes that tolled like a bell. Love and War was a gentler number about two of the key subjects of Young's long career. "I sang for justice and I hit a bad chord," he warbled. "But I still want to sing about love and war."
And so he did. Young strapped on his sidekick Les Paul Old Black for a suitably grim, spare reading of Down by the River, and followed up with Hitchhiker, an autobiographical track about fame and drugs that dates back to 1992. He switched to a Gretsch White Falcon for a magnificent rendering of Ohio (its twangy licks had the crowd clapping along) and the newbie Sign of Love, a romantic number whose passion is matched by its gigantic, powerful chords.
Then it was keyboard time. Neil perched at a beat-up upright at stage right for the bouncy Leia, a ditty about parents watching a child play. "This one is for all the little people who aren't here tonight — because they're too little," he said by way of introduction. Responding to the umpteenth bellow of "Neil!" with what sounded like a mischievously skewed "I'm not really here," he moved to an equally dishevelled-looking pump organ in the rear for an intriguing interpretation of After the Gold Rush, alternating the organ's immense churchy chords with some jaunty carnival harmonica. Finally, he shifted to a grand piano at stage left for I Believe in You, his third and final Gold Rush cut of the night. (Personally, I would have preferred more Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, but hey, at least he wasn't doing Trans.)
Heading into the home stretch, Neil donned Old Black again for the environmental growler Rumblin', followed by two guaranteed showstoppers: A typically epic rendition of Cortez the Killer during which he tapped his strings and worked the whammy bar ("Did I just play that whole song? That's good to know," he seemed to mutter afterward) and a slow-burning take on Cinnamon Girl that had a few folks in the house chair-dancing. A quick note on the crowd: Aside from "I love you!" dude, everyone was exceedingly well-behaved, shutting up during songs to savour every note and generally limiting their enthusiasm to between songs. it probably didn't hurt that a cadre of diligently vigilant security guards were in the house to keep cellphone camerawork to a minimum. Actually, they were so diligent I couldn't even type notes in the hall, so if I've got something wrong, blame them and my faulty memory.
Thankfully, the encore was fairly memorable: An acoustic version of Old Man — Young had to strain a bit for those high notes in the middle, but you gotta give him points for trying — and the new electric love song Walk With Me, another juxtaposition of romantic lyrics and big chords cranked out of the White Falcon. Then, after 95 minutes on the dot, he was done and gone, leaving the crowd wanting more. Much more.
I can't blame them. Truth be told, despite the intimacy and overall momentousness of the occasion — it isn't every day, or even every decade, that you get to see Young in this setting — it left me wanting more too. I could have gone for another handful of songs, or maybe a couple of different numbers from the night before, or a few minutes of chit-chat — really, any sign that this wasn't just another night at the office for the guy. But hey, that's Neil. And Neil is always going to be Neil; difficult, uncompromising, mercurial, and undeniably, infuriatingly brilliant. All you can do is take him on his terms or leave him. And if you went home disappointed by the length of the show or the set list, well, all you can do is wait until the next tour and try your luck again.
After all, with Neil Young, the journey always continues.
Set List:
My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue)
Tell Me Why
Helpless
You Never Call
Peaceful Valley
Love and War
Down by the River
Hitchhiker
Ohio
Sign of Love
Leia
After the Gold Rush
I Believe in You
Rumblin'
Cortez the Killer
Cinnamon Girl
Encore:
Old Man
Walk With Me
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