You know you're
at a Neil Young concert when the queue for the gents snakes back into
the bar. Here is an audience of geezers of a certain age, all full of
beer and desperate to get rid of it before the great man takes the
stage.
It's been five years since Young played London and the anticipation is
feverish. I had it on good authority that no drinks were to be allowed
in the auditorium because he did not want that.
Stern warnings were broadcast about the use of mobile phones. Young,
however it may have seemed at the time, was never an old hippy.
The first part of his set was performed solo on acoustic guitar and
keyboards. There was a man in the background painting pictures, but we
might as well draw a discreet veil over that. Young said nothing to the
audience yet managed to dominate the stage with his presence.
He played a sensational version of A Man Needs A Maid in the style of
Phantom Of The Opera. A girl shouted: "How's Stephen Stills?" The
silence was deafening.
Finally, Young managed to say hello and admit that it was nice to be
back. He rambled on about meeting Jesus Christ last time round, but
swiftly redeemed himself with a scorching take on Cowgirl In The Sand.
He is a curious performer, a big man with all the grace of a lightly
stunned bear.
Surrounded by a choice of instruments, he looked like a faintly
bewildered man in a guitar shop. After a decent interval, Young picked
up an electric guitar and started to play.
He may not have the most extravagant technique in the world, but this
man knows how to extract pain and longing from a piece of wood. Down By
The River is a song about murder and mayhem, and by the time he has
finished with it, you feel like giving yourself up to the nearest
policeman.
Having started with the plaintive notes of an acoustic guitar, Young
began to test the acoustic limits of his audience with some profound
meditations on the delights of feedback and distortion. When he has a
black Les Paul in his hand, he is the devil. Powderfinger laid waste to
the front rows.
Cinnamon Girl, a deceptively cheery ditty, wound up in a nuclear
reactor. Just so that everyone would go home happy, he finished with
Like A Hurricane. Which was like a hurricane.
This was not a concert without blemish, although it did pass off without
the political comment which characterised his last London shows. There
were songs that should never have been included, and songs that were
carelessly omitted.
On a brighter note, opening the entertainment was Pegi Young. It's
always nice when your wife supports you.
