Before I start in on this next review, a moment of contemplation for Christine McVie, who died this week at the age of 79. McVie had a grace that transcended age. It is hard to know she is gone. While Steve Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham got a lot of the attention, McVie was the heart and soul of Fleetwood Mac, and if you look back on my reviews you’ll find I often reference her contributions as some of my favourites. “Wish You Were Here” and “Over My Head” are sublime and “Songbird” is one of my all-time favourites.
Good travels, Ms. McVie. If there is a heaven the choir just got a whole lot better.
Disc 1604 is…Homegrown
Artist: Neil Young
Year of Release: 2020, but recorded in 1975
What’s up with the Cover? A farmer and his dog. And some corn, which is clearly the crop Neil is singing about on the title track, and not in any way another plant.
This dog has his tongue hanging out and looks mighty stupid. Being a cat person, dogs generally have the look of dullards to me, and even the smart ones like border collies appear more eager than brainy.
The farmer isn’t doing much better and appears to be eating raw corn which is not the greatest. That said anyone who can grow cob of corn as long as your arm, as is depicted here, definitely has something going on between the ears. Get it? Get it?
How I Came To Know It: I have a lot of Neil Young and while I don’t buy everything he releases these days, I give most of them a listen before I decide. “Homegrown” easily cleared the bar and so…here it is, taking up precious space on my shelves.
How It Stacks Up: I have 21 Neil Young albums and have reviewed two others that I since parted with. “Homegrown” is in the middle of the pack. I rank it at #13, nestling it nicely between “Comes a Time” and “Sleeps with Angels”
Ratings: 3 stars
Over the last few years Neil Young has been digging into his back catalogue and releasing albums he never put out at the time of recording. The fact that he has several is testament to what a prodigious songwriter he is. “Homegrown” is one of these and should have come out in 1975 (he instead released “Tonight’s the Night”, reviewed back at Disc 422). The articles I’ve read that get into such matters suggest the songs were too intensely personal for Young to share back then (they relate to a relationship breaking down).
I try to judge art on its own terms not situated in a biography, but there is no denying that “Homegrown” has a weary, heart-worn quality. It isn’t maudlin, but instead has the dulled-out feeling you get from a combination of stress and sadness. It is suffused with a fuzzy, absent-minded melancholy.
The opening track is the best example. “Separate Ways” is a song resigned to the fact that happier times are in the past, still within view, but no longer within reach. As breakup songs go, it is sad but non-accusatory. The slow meander of the bass line and the whine of the pedal steel in the background combine to remind you that sometimes bad shit just happens to good people. The best you can do is write a song and try to remember the good times.
Of course when feeling bad, many escape into altered states, and that’s the title track in a nutshell. This song is at odds with the record’s overall tone, with Neil’s crunchy guitar jauntily dancing along underneath a song that celebrates marijuana. The song is an earworm, and singing along I almost drove Sheila mad. Fortunately it can be cleansed in the same way as all other ear-worms. Simply sing the tune to “Hockey Night in Canada” a couple times (the original – not whatever the CBC has replaced it with). It’ll wipe away the song stuck in your head, but not permanently replace it. Try it – it works.
Another ear-worm is “Love is a Rose” made famous by Linda Ronstadt but written by Neil and appearing here as originally intended. I heard this song on AM radio too many times as a kid, and while it is a beautiful melody, I didn’t love it.
Instead, the record’s treasure lies in its understated, mournful tunes. “White Line” is mid-seventies Neil at his best. The melody meanders like a country road cutting through fields of wheat, his voice high and quavering. You can feel yourself on that road, white strips rolling by with the reassuring anonymity that travel can bring.
The album is only 35 minutes long, but there are still elements that feel directionless. “We Don’t Smoke it No More” has a directionless blues feel that makes you wish the title were true, but the “overstayed its welcome” jam session feel tells you that the title is ironic. Also bad is “Florida” which is just Neil Young describing a weird event in a detached way like he has been smoking a bit too much homegrown. The story features hang-gliders and dead babies and yet still manages to be uninteresting.
However, other than these two tracks the record is solid, and benefits from that golden age of Neil Young’s mid-seventies sound, where he perfectly melds the folksy elements of his early work with a greasy electric guitar. It might have a folk veneer, but the songs are made out of rock and roll.
Not everything Neil has been “rediscovering” of late is worth your time, but “Homegrown” is a time capsule back to a magical part of his career, full of weed and love that is beautiful in its freedom, even when it is withering on the vine.
Best tracks: Separate Ways, Homeegrown, White Line
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