At least ten years down the road from when they made their breakthrough recordings, by 1975 four songwriters who had done more than most to articulate changing social attitudes since the early 1960s, were confronted by new challenges to inform the subject matter of their latest albums.
For Bob Dylan (‘Blood on the Tracks‘) and Paul Simon (‘Still Crazy After All These Years‘), creative instincts were fired by divorce, while on ‘The Who By Numbers‘, Pete Townshend, through the vocals of Roger Daltrey, commented on the contradictions of being a rock star at the ripe old age of 30. At the same time Neil Young wrote and sang, often in anguished terms, about how utopian ideals of the counter-culture had floundered amid death and delusion – later describing the dark themes explored on his 1975 release as ‘The price tag for the freedom of the ’60s and free love, drugs and everything.’
The songs Young presented in 1975 were raw and emotive, the mid-point of the 1970s an appropriate place from where to contemplate how the Woodstock generation had found dead ends rather than deliverance. It appeared 30-year-old Young had picked exactly the right moment to write up his observations on how peace and love had given way to greed and self-gratification, particularly as others in the songwriting field were beginning to feel the same way.
But while his sixth studio album ‘TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT‘ (June 1975) appeared virtually at the mid-point of the decade, Young, as so often the case, was ahead of the game – the tracks having been recorded two years before only to sit for 22 months until he sanctioned their release.
When they were committed to tape during the late summer of 1973, Young – the most enigmatic and powerfully innovative figure among the proliferation of L.A. based songsmiths to have emerged from the late-60s – was wracked by grief and in the process of putting a torch to his career.
Canadian-born Young (Toronto 12/11/45) had come to prominence with seminal L.A. folk-rockers Buffalo Springfield in 1966. On moving to California in search of fame, he became reacquainted with a twenty-year-old Stephen Stills, their paths having previously crossed on the folk circuit of Canada and East Coast of the United States.
Time spent in Buffalo Springfield marked them both out as two prodigious talents. Over the course of two albums, ‘Buffalo Springfield‘ (1966) and ‘Buffalo Springfield Again‘ (1967) – a third ‘Last Time Around‘ (1968) was released after the band had split up – Young gained renown for ambitious compositions he would deliver in a distinctive quivering vocal style, supplemented more often than not by his arresting guitar work.
Upon leaving the group following a series of personality clashes, primarily with Stills, Young cut an intriguing if overlooked 1968 self-titled debut set, that he followed 12 months later with the audacious ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere.’ Leading a hard-rocking troupe known as Crazy Horse, his frenzied electric guitar sound and feverish vocals were captured in all their rampant glory by producer David Briggs.
Poised on the cusp of a fruitful career in his own right, Young then made a sideways shuffle to realign with Stills, who along with David Crosby and Graham Nash had scored big with their 1969 debut album. Joining in time for the era-defining ‘Deja Vu‘ album (May 1970), CSNY quickly attained the status of ‘spokesmen for a generation‘, although amid clashing egos more often than not were barely speaking to each other.
Before the year was out this loose aggregation had become four solo artists of which Young was easily the most formidable, borne out by his momentous ‘After the Gold Rush’ release (September 1970).
Such were the rave notices and huge sales, Young acquired the mantle of preeminent singer-songwriter of the day, yet from this point onward, either through circumstance or plain old cussedness, the picture became blurred. Eighteen months were allowed to elapse before the eagerly-awaited ‘Harvest‘ (March 1972), a collection critics decried for its leaden country-rock but customers sent into high chart placings around the world.
Never slow to exhibit a sense of the perverse, Young reacted to the spectacular commercial success of ‘Harvest’ by instigating a succession of crashes mainly of his own making. Lifted from the album to become a major hit single, Young later said of ‘Heart of Gold‘:
‘This song put me in the middle of the road. Travelling there became a bore so I headed for the ditch – a rougher ride but I saw some interesting people there.’
His initial step from mainstream to the margins was the first album in what became known as the ‘ditch’ trilogy. ‘Time Fades Away‘ (October 1973) was a live set comprising eight previously unheard songs recorded for the most part during a U.S. tour during the early weeks of 1973 and featuring musicians who had played on ‘Harvest’, this ensemble becoming known as The Stray Gators.
Slapdash and indulgent, although not without the odd moment of magnificence, the record reflected his erratic approach to this series of concerts. Young was in beleaguered state of mind due to the death of friend Danny Whitten from a heroin overdose on November 18 1972 – the Crazy Horse guitarist fired 24 hours earlier from the band Young was putting together for the ‘Time Fades Away‘ tour due to his drug dependency.
In the spring of 1973, after finishing his touring commitments, Young headed to Hawaii to once again join forces with Crosby, Stills and Nash when the possibility of a reunion would be up for discussion. But while there came news of another drug-related death from within Young’s inner circle, roadie Bruce Berry (who had also worked for CSNY along with Stills and Crosby separately), becoming another to succumb to heroin.
On returning to California, Young immediately put all other plans aside and rounded up producer Briggs, the Crazy Horse rhythm section of Billy Talbot (bass), Ralph Molina (drums), Stray Gator Ben Keith (pedal steel), along with 22-year-old ‘After the Gold Rush‘ veteran Nils Lofgren (guitar/piano) – making clear to Briggs his intention was to ‘Make some rock and roll.’
When initial sessions at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles failed to capture the immediacy he was looking for, Young had his cohorts move further down Sunset Boulevard to a rehearsal hall that according to one visitor, session drummer Bruce Gary, (who went on to find stardom with late-70s hitmakers The Knack), could be described as:
‘The size of a small night club. I remember thinking it was a strange decision to record there as the walls were not completely sound proofed. It was dark, there was a lot of booze consumed and the vibe was as spooky as the album sounds.’
Young had a batch of material, but in many cases they were rough outlines and half-formed ideas rather than fully developed songs.
‘We’d jam and play in this very bare-bones fashion,’ Lofgren told Young biographer Jimmy McDonagh, the title-track coming from an impromptu line Young sang at the very first session. ‘We started working on this thing,’ recalled Lofgren, ‘and the next morning Neil shows up with all these lyrics about Bruce Berry.’
With everyone present deeply affected by the deaths of Berry and Whitten, the recording process according to Talbot when speaking to McDonagh, ‘Took the form of an Irish wake.‘
As the tequila flowed so did the music, but even then Young was in no mood to compromise. ‘We were constantly asking Neil if we could fix this or that part, but he wanted it as it was,‘ reflected Lofgren. ‘The intention was to let people see how a record is before it is polished. Emotion was the important thing.’
The emotional resonance arrives with the opening title-track and never leaves thereafter, not least because the song bookends the record.
Dedicated to Danny Whitten and Bruce Berry, who according to the sleeve, (‘Lived and died for rock and roll‘), the latter is immediately evoked, the stark presentation in keeping with a lyric Young appears to deliver from deep into the shadows – the words tumbling out over a gritty folk-rock melody:
‘Bruce Berry was a working man/He used to load that Econoline van/A sparkle was in his eye/But his life was in his hands/Well, late at night when the people were gone/He used to pick up my guitar/And sing a song in a shaky voice/That was real as the day was long.’
Leading the outfit on piano with the electric guitar of Lofgren restricted to staccato bursts, as Young continues his narration there develops the sense of listening to key dialogue in a chilling film-noir:
‘Early in the mornin’ at the break of day/He used to sleep until the afternoon/If you never heard him sing/I guess you won’t too soon/’Cause people let me tell you/It sent a chill up and down my spine/When I picked up the telephone/And heard that he’d died out on the mainline.’
There are Fats Domino inflections in the piano chords that announce ‘Speakin’ Out‘, although for much of this thoughtful, poignant piece, Young sounds like he is confounding the instrument rather than playing it – the keys sounding confused as the man in charge seems happy to wing it from start to finish.
Neil reflects eloquently on his relationship with partner Carrie Snodgrass, who the previous year had given birth to their son Zeke, painting a scene of cosy domesticity at odds with the overhanging vibe of mourning and loss:
‘I’ve been a searcher/I’ve been a fool/But I’ve been a long time coming to you/I’m hoping for your love/To carry me through/You’re holding my baby/And I’m holding you.’
Decorated with the unrehearsed electric guitar work Young wanted from Lofgren, it has the essence of a one-take capture. In the final verse Young makes the rueful observation (especially so given he and Snodgrass would separate between the song being recorded and released), of ‘Oh, tell me where the answer lies/Is it in the notebook/Behind your eyes?’
The notion of a hearing a performance wrapped in spontaneity is emphasised when Neil announces ‘Speakin’ Out‘ over the final few bars, as if to inform his fellow musicians the title of the song they have just been playing.
Young and Lofgren switch instruments for ‘World on a String‘, Young striking things up with a rumbling, electric guitar riff for an uptempo piece that contemplates not just the fickle nature of fame, (‘No, the world on a string/Doesn’t mean a thing‘), but how recent experience has shown that lives often dangle by a thread – the artist never more self-analytical when he adds, ‘It’s only real in the way/That I feel from day to day.’
In terms of personal disclosure Young is at his most revealing on the piano ballad, ‘Borrowed Tune‘ a deeply resonant cut recorded at his Broken Arrow home studio in Northern California rather than downtown L.A. Sounding drunk and forlorn, he is found questioning the validity of his career, putting himself in a scenario shrouded by uncertainty, ‘I’m climbin’ this ladder/My head in the clouds/I hope that it matters/I’m havin’ my doubts.’
Taking inspiration for the melody from ‘Lady Jane‘, a song on their 1966 ‘Aftermath‘ album, Young makes no attempt to hide the influence or his inebriation:
‘I’m singin’ this borrowed tune/I took from the Rolling Stones/Alone in this empty room/Too wasted to write my own.’
One of the departed souls who haunt the record is present on ‘Come on Baby Let’s Go Downtown‘ the track a collaboration between Young and Whitten, who sings lead vocal in a performance recorded during a Young/Crazy Horse concert at the Fillmore East, New York in August 1970.
Neil and his cohorts gallop through a fiery piece describing, by way of sad irony in this case, the circumstances of heading out to meet a drug dealer:
‘Sure enough/They’ll be sellin’ stuff/When the moon begins to rise/Pretty bad when you’re dealin’ with the man/And the light shines in your eyes.’
Having written a chilling depiction of heroin use by those around him, Whitten to be specific, in ‘The Needle and the Damage Done‘ from ‘Harvest‘, in the booklet that accompanies ‘Tonight’s the Night‘ Young, who has since lost this friend to addiction, is pictured with fellow musicians, Keith, Molina, Talbot and Lofgren. They are photographed on a stage in the rehearsal hall, but above Whitten’s name there is just an empty space.
Through an album of rough-cut vocals, side one closer ‘Mellow My Mind‘ is the roughest of all, Young singing this powerful folk ballad in a voice that ranges from creaking to over-stretched.
Reflecting on days passed when contentment was not so elusive, (‘Baby mellow my mind/Make me feel like a schoolboy on good time/Juggling nickels and dimes/Satisfied with the fish on the line‘), Young makes comparison to the present only to find little empathy in the way things are:
‘I’ve been down the road/And I’ve come back/Lonesome whistle on the railroad track/Ain’t got nothing on those feelings that I had.’
Side two opens with the country twang and sly humour of ‘Roll Another Number‘ (For the Road). The incisive pedal steel work of Keith contrasts with a resigned, world-weary vocal, Young not so much distancing himself from the counter-culture ethos as dismissing it altogether:
‘I’m not going back to Woodstock for a while/Though I long to see that lonesome hippie smile/I’m a million miles away from that helicopter day/No, I don’t believe I’ll be going back that way.’
Using a conversational vocal delivery, his intention in the next track is to find solitude, believing the place it can be found is ‘Albuquerque‘ (‘Well, they say that Santa Fe is less than ninety miles away/And I got time to roll a number/And rent a car/Oh, Albuquerque‘).
The overlapping electric guitar thrusts of Young and pedal steel incisions of Keith create an atmospheric platform from which the writer can reach the destination where he intends to take stock, (‘So I’ll stop when I can/Find some fried eggs and country ham/I’ll find somewhere where they don’t care who I am‘).
The shortest track on the record at just over two minutes ‘New Mama‘ is in part another touching ode to Snodgrass on the event of them becoming parents, (‘New mama’s got a son in her eyes/No clouds are in my changing sky/Each morning when I wake up to rise/I’m living in a dreamland‘), but also realisation the past needs resolution before the way ahead becomes clear.
The hushed tone of his vocal when pondering the feeling of content he is striving for (‘Changing times/Ancient reasons/That turn to lies/Throw them all away‘), takes the middle section close to lullaby. While Young (guitar/vibes) and Lofgren (piano) are the only two musicians to feature, Molina and Keith have a presence on backing vocals that have the rare distinction, where this record is concerned, in sounding arranged rather than ad-hoc.
Taken from a session with The Stray Gators in late 1972, ‘Lookout Joe‘ alludes to the end of the Vietnam war and what American soldiers may find on their return to the United States.
Moving with Stones-like propulsion, Young on electric guitar fires out a warning to the G.I. in question, (‘ Lookout Joe, you’re comin’ home/Old times were good times‘), as a supporting cast, Keith (slide guitar), Jack Nitzsche (piano), Tim Drummond (bass) and Kenny Buttrey (drums) warm to the task of presenting a track that would have slotted comfortably onto ‘Exile on Main St.’
Not so warm, however, is the welcome awaiting Joe, Young providing a somewhat sardonic glimpse into what he can expect:
‘A hip drag queen and a side-walkin’ street wheeler/Comin’ down the avenue/They’re all your friends/You’ll come to love ’em/There’s a load of ’em/Waitin’ for you.’
Listening to ‘Tired Eyes‘ creates the impression of eavesdropping on a rambling, barroom conversation that nevertheless demands attention – the crux of this one being an L.A. drug transaction to have ended in violent fashion.
As the story plays out over a funereal, country-based melody, (‘Well he shot four men/In a cocaine deal/They left them lying in an open field’), there are times when it seems the narrator is unsure of how events unfolded or who was involved, (‘I mean was he a heavy doper/Or was he just a loser?‘). The one actuality is how quickly things escalated to the point of being out of control, ‘Well, it wasn’t supposed to go down that way/But they burned his brother/You know/And they left him lying in the driveway.’
‘Tired Eyes‘ is an unsettling piece and followed by a second, slightly more tortured reading of the title-track that returns to close the record, this sombre collection closes in suitably disconcerting fashion.
After completing the album, but before it was released (January 1974 given as the provisional release date), Young and those he had most recently worked with went out on tour – when all his renowned willfulness reappeared in spades.
‘We basically performed the entire record, which nobody had heard starting and ending with ‘Tonight’s the Night‘, remembered Lofgren. ‘The audience in general was freaking out that Neil wouldn’t play any of his old hits.’
Ticket-buyers were left feeling bewildered and short-changed, while a section of the British rock press lambasted Young for his perceived self-indulgence when he crossed the Atlantic to appear (some nights the ‘Tonight’s the Night‘ tracks were played through twice) – the artist himself then showed just how contrary he could be, later describing the 1973 U.K. shows as ‘Fabulous, one of my best ever tours.‘
Once back in Los Angeles to begin the mixing process of ‘Tonight’s the Night‘, he began to think the time for these songs had momentarily passed and besides, there was a new batch of material to record. Young enlisted Levon Helm and Rick Danko from The Band, Keith, Molina, Stray Gator Drummond, Crosby, Nash and with Briggs again taking the co-producer role, they brought another potent collection to fruition.
Written from the perspective of political disillusionment and personal despair (the split from actress Snodgrass now permanent), ‘On the Beach‘, had its share of darkness and while not quite shrouded in the same emotional twilight as ‘Tonight’s the Night‘, was utterly compelling. When it appeared in July 1974 Young was out on tour with the reformed CSNY, ‘Mellow My Mind‘ from his now seemingly aborted record often featuring on the set-list, although the nuances evident in the original recording of eight months earlier were lost in the vast arenas the quartet were filling on a nightly basis.
By April 1975 Young had amassed enough new songs for his next album, label Reprise sufficiently encouraged by what they heard to begin hoping a record in similar vein to ‘Harvest‘ could be forthcoming. Not before time either as his commercial fortunes had been in steep decline for a couple of years.
But conforming to expectation had never been Neil’s thing – and instead he put out ‘Tonight’s the Night’.
Upon release critics applauded its uncompromising honesty. In England (where the album failed to crack the Top 40, while only reaching 25 in the U.S.), the New Musical Express wrote, ‘It documents the rock wastelands of the 70s in harrowing style without making any concessions to popular appeal.‘
Following on from ‘Time Fades Away‘ and ‘On the Beach‘, with ‘Tonight’s the Night‘ Young completed his ‘ditch’ trilogy, but for all the artistic merit, like its two predecessors, it returned negligible sales. The alternative album was a collection entitled ‘Homegrown‘ and it’s anyone’s guess how that would have fared instead.
It was destined to remain unreleased until 2020.
NEIL YOUNG – TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT (Released June 20 1975):
Tonight’s the Night/Speakin’ Out/World on a String/Borrowed Tune/Come on Baby Let’s Go Downtown/Mellow My Mind/Roll Another Number (For the Road)/Albuquerque/New Mama/Lookout Joe/Tired Eyes/Tonight’s the Night (Part II);
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