Artists head through a cycle of dependable popularity, out-there deconstructions of their own work, and then acceptance from an audience to do just that. Neil Young has done the latter two options for most of his career. Even in the 1980s, when he was stuck in a dispute with his record label, he created music that could challenge, though not as effectively as the fan favourites. He rarely lost the truth that gives his voice such power, and the status of legend which Young now receives means that most of his albums are, at the very least, well-received. You would have to head back far into his discography to find a time when the audience was wholly against him, and even then, Young was on their side but couldn’t say as much. Greendale is in the post-Geffen Records fallout, two decades removed and almost ten years on from using Pearl Jam as a backing group. Incredible moments which reinvented what we know about Young. Greendale tries to blur the sentimentality with the staggering blows brought on by his grunge rock sound.
What has Greendale fall short is the ambitious choice Young makes in writing and recording a story as he goes. No direct clue for where this story would go, but a vision of success in pursuing it. Opener Falling from Above doesn’t hint at this story too much, that doesn’t quite become clear until a second listen. So subtle it’s absent, these storytelling moments. It could be said the commentaries are a little short-sighted given what we know of mass media and consumption Young and Crazy Horse comment on here, but nobody was to know how much innocence would be shattered in the years to come. Young has once more subverted the expectation, but he does so this time with a long and winding story which doesn’t seem to have much of a conclusion, or even a clearer point than the usual themes used on his other records.
Greendale is somewhat weak when we think on how extraordinary Young and Crazy Horse can be as instrumental innovators. Young sounds focused on telling a story with no resolution or conflict apart from that which he can remember to plant in. Much of Greendale feels plodding as a result, even with the consistent instrumental strengths of Crazy Horse and Young collaborating once more. Carmichael has a delightful lead guitar to it, but this is lost to a story that just doesn’t pan out. It feels more like broad strokes of poetry intertwined with some general storytelling, but Greendale never feels like a remarkable tale or an instrumentally satisfying piece. It’s worth a listen, it’s Neil Young and Crazy Horse after all, but it’s a long way off what it could have been. Having said that, Bandit is a tremendous moment, a diamond in the rough. His ability to write up a gut-punch of a song is still there.
Young tries to present a multimedia project with a film, an album, and a story entwined with poetry, all in one. He cannot make any of it work but it’s not because he isn’t talented enough to do so. Greendale feels far too rushed, not enough time is given to figure out the nuance and subtleties which Young wants to impress with. Sun Green features a megaphone, the tool of great protest, though it’s shocking to hear how little Young is saying when he spends nearly an hour building to this message to tie this project together. It never quite comes, though it’s still an entertaining listen for those who like the rambling song style, the steady instrumentals Young has always provided are intact. A shame about the story, though, something that runs out of steam long before the album is over.
