Barn by Neil Young & Crazy Horse
Barn, the latest album by Neil Young and Crazy Horse, was recorded in the Rocky Mountains in a restored 19th century barn during a full moon, as is Young’s preferred method. The title also points back to comment Young once made when he was listening to a playback outdoors with his house wired as one speaker and the barn as another; when he wanted it louder, Young yelled “More barn!’
History is important to Young. He first recorded with Crazy Horse on 1969’s Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. In five decades of musical peregrinations the band has remained his North Star. Multi-instrumentalist Nils Lofgren first joined Crazy Horse for the band’s 1971 debut album; the previous year he played on Young’s After The Gold Rush LP, also joining Young several times over the years. Two years ago, with the retirement of guitarist Poncho Sampedro, Lofgren rejoined Crazy Horse.
That chronicle is important to Barn for a few reasons. Lofgren is again the “new guy,” adding a spark to a group long-in-the-tooth, while his musicianship provides Young a sparring partner to bounce ideas off.
In “Welcome Back,” Young croons, “I’ve been singing this way for so long.” It is the sound of four musicians (including drummer Ralph Molina and bassist Billy Talbot) who, thanks to decades of playing together, have developed a way of communicating, in real time, that is second nature. “The shade is just you blinking,” Young sings as the music melts into a gauzy dream of feedback and echo.
The 10-song album succinctly touches all the bases from gentle acoustic guitar and harmonica songs to raging rockers. Mortality has never been far from Young’s mind; from “The Old Laughing Lady” on his debut to his best album Tonight’s The Night (a wake for friends who died from drug overdoses), to Sleeps With Angels, the Kurt Cobain requiem.
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Barn’s “Song of the Season” gently resigns to change, buoyed by Lofgren’s accordion melody. “Heading West” finds Young recalling his late parents with childhood memories of growing up in Canada. It’s Horace Greeley with a singalong chorus, recalling “Livin' in a western town, mommy got me my first guitar.” On cue, Young deftly slides into a peal of melodic distortion.
Nature has been another running theme in Young’s music. “Change Ain’t Never Gonna” is a cautionary tale that references his own experiences with alternative-fueled vehicles and the absurdity of modern life, delivered in a lazy, honky-tonk groove. “They Might be Lost” is a haunted minor key saga with the narrator laying it on the line, “Well, the jury is out on the old days, you know. The judgement is soon coming down, I can't quite remember what it was that I knew.”
“Human Race” is an unabashed warning of mankind’s sprint to a potential apocalypse told from the vantage point of a grandfather who saw the potential of the counterculture turn into a world that sees diminishing returns for future generations. The anguish is legitimate; a group of 70-year-olds shouldn’t be able to rock this hard.
Politics, personal and otherwise, also get a nod. “Canerican” moves back to electric mode with Crazy Horse’s stomp. Young straddles his heritage, born in Canada and becoming a millionaire in America. The travelogue is a three-minute autobiography of someone whose gratitude and patriotism runs deep, yet at the same time has no problem questioning the decisions made to affect the natural and social world around him. “Shape of You” is simply a mildly buzzed, funky love song built around a bar-room piano.
The accompanying documentary to the creation of the album, Barn–A Band–A Brotherhood, gives a fascinating glimpse behind the curtain of the chemistry and friendship that Young, Crazy Horse and their crew have developed.
To call Young the Orson Welles of Rock would not be inaccurate and it may not even be a compliment. Yet here he is, overseeing his sprawling archive projects well in advance, not taking any chance that someone else will tell his story. He continues to write and release new material and is relevant enough to do battle with the likes of Spotify for enabling COVID-denier Joe Rogan.
And when Young is gone (and Dylan and for that matter), who will take the place of the outsider who cast himself in Panavision and tried to stay one step ahead of the bloated music industry? Dave Grohl, Thom Yorke, Jeff Tweedy? Not likely.
