It's easy to get buried in the past

Didn't really intend to take the better part of a week off, but things just worked out that way. Life has a way of sneaking up and determining what's actually important instead of what we think is important. As a result, priorities get shifted. Forever.

Until they get shifted back.

Sort of like how everyone vowed how 9/11 was going to change us for the better. Never would we let pettiness and trivialities sidetrack us again. And this time we really mean it. That lasted about a week. Much like this little break. Regardless, I've spent far too much of the past week listening to Neil Young, which seemed somehow fitting.

Pretty much anything he did in the 70s is essential for any serious music library. But for my purposes of late, I've been focusing on his "ditch trilogy". So named because after having the biggest hit of his career (Heart of Gold) he found himself which in the middle of the road. In order to survive, he "headed for the ditch" and made a series of albums coping with unwanted fame, too many drugs, too much death, the failure of the hippie dream and pretty much everything else that critics wet themselves over.

The three albums within this trilogy (Time Fades Away, On The Beach, Tonight's The Night) contain some of the most honest, raw moments of his entire career and are anything but middle of the road. The songs themselves are, for the most part, fairly conventional. There are no 10-minute feedback excursions and the arrangements are usually simple. The instruments used are the rock and roll basics of guitar, bass, piano and drums.

The performances are what separates these releases from anything else in Young's catalog and probably helped ensure they remain forgotten by the public at large. Here, the pleasant harmonies and professionalism of "Heart of Gold" were replaced by sloppy playing, off-key vocals (sometimes painfully so) and a general atmosphere that suggests sober moments were at a premium. Little wonder fans stayed away. But somehow, Young transformed what should have been career suicide into perhaps his defining moments. Ragged glory, indeed.

One of the most annoying and ridiculous critical cliches is the lavishing of praise on the tortured genius or drug-addled musician. The notion that somehow these problems are worthwhile, even desirous, since they produce great "art." is beyond absurd. Of course, the critics weren't the ones actually suffering through these moments of despair. And I strongly suspect most, though not all, of the so-called "tortured genius" set would gladly trade their moments of greatness for sanity and contentment. I've known several families affected by such despair and have yet to find one that found some nobility in their predicament. Perhaps I just travel in the wrong circles.

Yet occasionally some good does come out of these moments. I suppose it is the truly great that are able to take such moments and make them universal. Young's "ditch trilogy" is as effective as any in rock history in doing just that. There's nary a moment of sweetness and light to be found there. If anything these albums are the musical equivalent of the old adage: the light at the end of the tunnel is the oncoming train. Moments to which everyone can relate, not just strung out musicians. For whatever reason, often times they are more capable of expressing these feelings than others. That's probably why when my ebbs are lowering these are the records to which I return. More so than albums that I actually probably enjoy more. (On The Beach excepted--it is among my all-time faves.)

Which is not to say I do not enjoy these albums of their own accord. Taken as individual songs, these are among the best of Young's career. But they resonate with me on a more emotional level than some of his other work. For whatever reason, these albums always seem to creep back in when I need them.

Bleak though this trilogy is, there is the hopefulness of not going through despair alone. Even if that message is buried somewhere deep beneath all the tequilla, pot and pain that informed these sessions, it is there. Sometimes solidarity is the best for which we can hope.

**I should state for all concerned, current listening aside, I'm in good spirits. If I wasn't, I can assure you I wouldn't write about it here. Just been on a Neil Young kick of late and thinking about these albums quite a bit. I could write volumes on them so anytime insomnia strikes, get in touch.