In those last years at Reprise Records, Neil Young sounded a little off-key. For all the goodwill which began this relationship between record label and recording artist, the pair never clicked. Neil Young and Geffen Records would have a relationship which would see out genuine contempt, lust, and independence of one another. It had the same tension and intensity as a pre- and post-used disposable barbecue and a middle-aged man who had caught a glimpse of the cloudless sun. Young committed not to quality but to exploration, which sometimes offers quality but not as much as repeating your hits. Hawks & Doves, then, is both Young and Reprise Records tiring of one another. A lucrative contract and freedom to create would tempt Young away, though not before releasing this album in 1980. It is a criminally underrated offering. An album which strips Young of the rock and roll, focusing on his folk acoustics at a time when it could not be further from the popular norm.
When has Young ever cared for that, though? He spent much of the Geffen Label days trying to redefine not himself but the expectations and interests of his dissipating listeners. What he began with in the final years of Reprise Records, though, was a continuation of the charming sounds heard on Comes a Time. Opening song Little Wing is a beautiful, short opener backed by the heartfelt, heavy tone of The Old Homestead. Comfortable, soft recordings which are ripped from this session or that. Whether it is a chance to purge the archives of excess or a false sense of security for Geffen Records matters not. What does matter is the context of why this project feels so unbalanced. Care for his recently born son detracts from the studio. Even without the focus, which was associated with Young at his peak, there is still much to love about Hawks & Doves.
There is a delicacy in these A-sides which, while disconnected from one another, are tied together through their folk roots. Those charming tones, that slight underwater effect on Lost in Space or the recollection of storied sailors with Captain Kennedy, are some of the very best songs Young would offer in the 1980s. The bar may be low, but we can only vault the line ahead. Young turns to country fundamentals, the swing of piano and politics on the B-side. It is a change which continues to this day, though the subtleties of his music, which was limited to begin with, have degraded rapidly. Stayin’ Power is a nice and loose knock at the world around him, shedding the hippie hopes of the past for a jaded and angry view of the world. Unfocused, absolutely, but in the blur of cymbals and fiddle is a clear emotional appeal. Union Man is a bit of a sloppy experience though lingers on the suggestion THAT those organisations are not doing enough for the working man.
Even with a lack of focus for Hawks & Doves, Young sounds as though he forgot to attach an end to this album. His penultimate Reprise Records release is a remarkable one if we suspend everything we know about the rocker. It pales in comparison to what precedes it, but becomes a beacon of quality when lined up with what was to follow. A rough album, sure, with no end in sight. The title track just stops, the needle lifts, and it is back to reality, a crashing back to Earth which was surely not intended. We can cut Young some slack given his mind was, understandably, elsewhere. It is perhaps also the reason some of the writing throughout Hawks and Doves has a lingering confusion. If it is the case here, what is the excuse for Lets Roll Again?
