About the Live Aid event, Boyd contends that “Crosby, Stills Nash, and Young were hardly memorable on a day that also included the cream of the era’s superstar rock-‘n’-roll talents. CSN&Y’s set was particularly horrendous.” I’m personally glad that Boyd addressed this issue, because I was at Live Aid, and my memory of those Young-involved performances are indistinct, though I do seem to recall some pitchy moments from America’s reconstituted counterculture idols of the ’80s.
Speaking of the ‘80s, the less said about the albums Trans and Everybody’s Rockin’, the better, perhaps, but Boyd gamely and discerningly rummages amidst the details of the David Geffen years—when the head of the label infamously sued Young for breach of contract for failing to serve up any actual “Neil Young records.” Condensed drive-by reading is fine with me, though. It leaves more time to explore the nooks ‘n’ crannies of some particular Neil Young faves, afforded by going into-the-black of the bolt-from-the-blue Rust Never Sleeps, and the stellar Live Rust, which contains a groove-worn sequence of back-to-back powerhouse tracks (I think they comprised a whole side on LP): the evocative “Powderfinger,” the provocative “Cortez the Killer,” and the propulsive “Cinnamon Girl.” Hey hey, my my.
Moving on in our Journey Through the Past (page 124), Boyd gratifyingly provides a chunky chapter—“There Was a Band Playing In My Head and I Felt Like Getting High” – to 1970’s After the Gold Rush, the bestselling precursor of sorts to the even bigger blockbuster Harvest. The author examines one of Young’s “more naïve attempts at a political statement,” the controversial “Southern Man,” with its “blunt, and perhaps somewhat misguided, lyrical bombs.” The song notoriously triggered the ire of the understandably indignant Lynyrd Skynyrd, who aimed back with “Sweet Home Alabama’s” trenchant rebuke that, concerning Mr. Young, “southern man don’t want him around anyhow.” What may not be as well-known is that, while familiar with the fact that vocalist and lyricist Ronnie Van Zant was a Neil Young fan, I hadn’t known the tidbit that Van Zant – who died in a fiery plane crash in 1977 with two other members of the band – was buried in the same “Tonight’s the Night” T-shirt that he wore on the disquieting flame-lined cover of the Dixie stalwarts’ posthumously released Street Survivors album.
Also included in the chapter is an astute and fascinating analysis and speculation—Boyd’s and others’—regarding the of the haunting and inscrutable but beautiful title track—which has implications touching on the fate of Crazy Horse guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter Danny Whitten, whose 1972 death from a heroin overdose inspired the bleak but brilliant Tonight’s the Night. Jarring fun fact: Whitten was the writer of the song “I Don’t Want to Talk About It,” popularized by Rod Stewart!







Article comments
1 - theusername
better to have been there. just buy the albums, download the boots.
2 - Greg Barbrick
Great review Gordon. And to the erstwhile Rockologist: Come back, all is forgiven!
3 - Glen Boyd
The Rockologist is always here, Greg. Hell, he is everywhere. By the way, call me, will ya'? I've been trying to call you, but the line is always busy. Social life picking up, eh?
-Glen
4 - Gordon Hauptfleisch
Thanks, Greg-- I appreciate it.
5 - Glen Boyd
Thanks for the nice review Gordon. I enjoyed reading this a lot, and found it interesting to be on the "other side" of a review for a change...LOL. Seriously though, appreciated this a lot. Thanks again!
-Glen
6 - Jimmy Nelson
Just bought this on Amazon. Unfortunately, as talented a writer as Gordon Hauptfleisch is, even he can't paper over the poorly conceived, even more poorly executed mess that this book is.
First off, it's sadly obvious that Glen Boyd is as close to his subject as anybody else who bought the albums -- and no more than that. He provides no new information, having clearly gathered what little he knows from elsewhere on the internet, from liner notes and from previous books on Young.
Secondly, and far more disastrously, his writing is hackneyed, repetitive, and sometimes confusingly constructed. I worried, going in, that he'd composed the book in an episodic fashion because he was too scattered, lazy or distracted to adequately make any salient points. All of my worries bore fruit.
My only frequently asked question, as I completed Glen Boyd's book was: Why did I buy this?
7 - mellenhead
I was about ready to order this book when I found this. Whew, thanks for saving me some money, Jimmy!