HARVEST

I wrote this a couple months back when I had a bellyful of booze and a deep reverence for the genius of my favorite Canadian troubadour: Neil Young. I tipped my bottle, opened a fresh one, pressed play on the player, and set to it. It's like Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs said in that movie, "just to fucking write." My tippy tappy typist fingers couldn't keep up with my racing mind but nonetheless, the following resulted.

“See the lonely boy out on the weekend.” A young man who “can’t relate to joy,” can’t express his feelings, “can’t begin to say.” Only one man could say it so eloquently, so curtly. That man is Neil Young. Accented with plaintive steel guitar and his ever present acoustic, strummed so subtly, Mr. young creates a sense of longing in his listener. Punctuated by harmonica solos, ‘out on the weekend’ remains a country-folk staple and a reminder to the youth that their dream may not always lay in wait around the corner.

“I was almost there at the top of the stairs.” Examine this line. What does it mean? The singer instructs us to “dream up, dream up with the promise of a man.” What, pray tell, are we to dream? A more prosperous future? Contentment? Peace and wellbeing, perhaps? Either way, one can’t help but tap their foot to this simple rhythm. Though “I see you give more than I can take, I only harvest some.” Yet again, more questions than answers as Neil’s song leads us to further analyze the lyrics we’ve just heard as the next verse presents itself. The feeling of loss and helplessness are further hindered by the driving beat, devoid of busy and hard-to-follow percussion and instead complemented by simple, cro-magnon beats that force the listener to give in to his inner caveman. Shun the cymbals, damn the hi-hat, and pay heed to the tribal thumping.

The old man, presented a view of his past through the eyes of a young man, is likely overwhelmed by the change in times. Such is the case of this banjo-permeated treasure from Mr. Young. We’re reminded that everybody needs somebody to love, old or young; love conquers all. The quest for companionship rules. Neil’s song reminds us that an old man’s death is never a tragedy.

A heavily orchestrated song fades out with the plucking of a harp and leads us to ‘Alabama,’ an electric guitar-driven number that calls to mind such forgotten institutions like confederacy and slavery. Bad mojo.

The applause gives way to a lone guitar, backed by a piano, a bass, and a set of drums. The guitar part itself is subdued, seemingly restrained from its full glory and withheld from its utmost capability. Following the first verse, which speaks of hard, agricultural labor and the struggle to survive, the instruments begin feeding off each other before climaxing in subdued glee. It’s as if a tired farmhand, weak from his toil in the fields, is letting loose his inhibitions, however weary he may be. Though the piano is the foundation of the song, the heavy-hand-picked electric guitar fuels the fire, cultivating the song’s crop and helping to reap what Neil Young has sown. This song made me cry once.