The King of the one-note solo reigns supreme in my book. I was enthralled with the show Neil put on at the United Palace in mid-December: the two-set theatrics were well worth the triple-digit ticket price, and I wouldn't normally endorse cashing a Ben Franklin for entry to a rock concert.
But Neil is a different story: I wish I had seen all six nights at the opulent Harlem venue (okay, maybe just three, but one outing with Mr. Young was clearly not enough). The first set featured Neil wandering around the carefully-cluttered stage amongst his musical toys, a set of keys on each side of the stage and a ring of guitars hovering in the middle.
Acoustically, he delivered some unexpected favorites of mine such as the poignant and political Campaigner (inserting George Bush for Richard Nixon in the latter half of the song), the pure acoustic perfection of Out On The Weekend, and the epic A Man Needs A Maid.
Each song was announced with the arrival of a piece of art on the side stage, featuring the song's title rendered in a painting, a theatrical touch that enhanced the magnificence of the set he played in. The second set featured some heavy rock numbers made all the more raucous by a clearly liberated and perhaps inebriated frontman, with a particularly lengthy (bordering on extenuating) jam during No Hidden Path. Electric highlights included Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, and I was personally humbled to hear Oh, Lonesome Me warbled to perfection, as well as the awesome ditty Winterlong. See the clip below to see a segment of the second-set Cortez Jam complete with propeller fan, Neil's heavy-footed jam-dance, and that unmistakable tone that simultaneously hammers and sheers notes with its raw energy:It was an honour (Canadian spelling in honour of NY, y'all) to hear the 2007 renditions of these songs from the beautiful, ragged pipes of Neil at 63: the messages of his songs are eerily still relevant, which at once thrills because of his acuity in penning such gems, and yet chills because many of the haunting warnings of his words have still not been heeded. His songs are timeless, his shakey-shakey voice is peerless, and he is a living legend of rock n' roll.
p.s. Because I said I would blog-tattle, I might as well follow through: it should be noted that a certain Relix staff member had the audacity to counsel me to avoid the lengthy bathroom lines by "leaving during the jams", and further, his advice was delivered while drinking a can of Coca-cola--with a straw! Whatever happened to rock n' roll, I ask you! I think you can be fired for those sorts of things. Not that I'm going to name names, here...
