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| Reprise (10 Blu-ray Discs)
Archives ••••• Picture •••• Sound ••••• Extras ••••• |
The Canadian-born, California-entrenched singer/songwriter has followed his muse down any and every rabbit hole he desires, embracing all genres and styles with the commitment of an artist willing to express his creativity in whatever form he chooses. The message: Join me or don’t; it doesn’t matter. I’m still going. But far from being an exercise in esoteric navel-gazing, Archives is the Holy Grail — a fine reward for the patience, understanding, and loyalty of his followers, and a truly comprehensive chronicle of the first phase of his epic career. From the evidence on Vol. 1, it’s a digital love letter to Neil Young fans, one that’s wholly worth the wait in ways heretofore only imagined.
First, the facts. Vol. 1 is a 10-disc boxed set available on Blu-ray Disc and DVD — listed at $349 and $249, respectively, but selling for $299 and $199 at neilyoung.com. And as Young says in “A Message from Neil,” which pops up after you click on the Archives skyline button at his site, “You will see that Blu-ray is what you want for the utmost in quality, variety, and versatility . . . Don’t say I didn’t tell you.” I’ll second all of that. Blu-ray is the only way you should experience this project. On BD, audio is ultra-high-resolution 192-kHz/24-bit PCM (mostly stereo), and video is 1,920 x 1,080 pixels. And yes, 5.1 fans, there is some surround sound to be found within; I’ll get to that in much detail later. The set includes a card that allows you to download all of the music tracks as MP3s. An eight-disc CD set ($99) is available, too. (In any format, nearly every disc can be bought individually from neilyoung.com.)
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And now: the Blu-ray Discs themselves, in their splendid art design by Total Media Group’s Toshi Onuki and their remarkable BD production by Ole Lütjens and the team at MX Entertainment. It would take roughly 30 hours to progress through all of the audio/video material that Young and his longtime film colleague, Larry (L.A.) Johnson, have collected here. Delving into each disc is like peeling a series of onions, as each song is presented in multiple layers. Clicking on Song Selection in the main menu opens the Steelcase filing cabinet that takes you to the individual song folders. Each folder can potentially house additional material under four labeled tabs at the top: Photos, Documents, Press, and Memorabilia.
You can click on the active tabs and peruse the information while the song plays. If you click on the arrow that’s underneath the tabs at the top left of the folder, you can literally watch a song play in real time on a format appropriate to the era — 45-rpm single, 12-inch vinyl album, reel-to-reel tape. Some songs will have even more options under separate Audio and Video Tape Logs on a partially obscured sheet that appears under the arrow and to the left of the track information. You might find Young discussing a song’s gestation in a radio interview or at a live gig.
ARE YOU READY FOR THE MUSIC?
We begin with Disc 0 (Neil being Neil, he of course couldn’t actually start the set with Disc 1), subtitled Early Years (1963–1965). It’s made up almost entirely of unreleased mono recordings from Young’s stint with the Squires in Winnipeg, as well as some of his earliest solo tracks. “Aurora,” the B-side of the Squires’ first 45, is the song that opens the whole shebang, and it’s classic, twangy, instrumental garage rock that sounds cleaner than you might expect. The A-side, “The Sultan,” follows, complete with gong flourishes. When you click on the arrow, you get to see the needle drop on the original 45 as it spins on a vintage cabinet stereo system, and you’ll even be able to observe the floating turntable bounce. You’ll also see the corners of Neil’s handwritten scores — which have been placed on top of the cabinet’s controls to the right of the ’table — furl and unfurl along with the music.
Stereophiles will enjoy noticing all the gear that pops up. Among the goodies: a General Electric AM/FM transistor radio, an RCA Victor record player, a Concord 550 reel-to-reel tape player, a Teac A-6100 2-track master recorder, and an Emerson Mustang turntable.
It’s worth noting that Disc 0 also contains the earliest reading of “Sugar Mountain,” a 1965 demo that shows the budding songwriter was already well on his way to painting vivid interpersonal stories. (Follow the song’s evolution with a previously unreleased stereo master on Disc 2 and an acoustic live take on Disc 3.)
Before getting to the rest of the gold rush, I should mention the interactive Timeline that can be accessed under the More header on each disc’s main menu. Besides enabling you to find hidden audio tracks by clicking on white pushpins, the Timeline is where the capabilities of BD-Live are expected to be put to good use. Whenever material not already on the Blu-ray set becomes available — photos, songs, video clips, reviews — a virtual sticky note from Neil himself will appear on the front of the filing cabinet, and a blue pushpin will appear in the appropriate Timeline zone. The first round of BD-Live additions has surfaced: another 1963 Squires recording and unseen photos of Buffalo Springfield.
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In fact, the Blu-ray sonics had me relishing detail I hadn’t noticed on songs I thought I knew by heart. On Disc 2, Topanga 1 (1968–1969), I was able to zero in on the character of each female backing vocalist on “I’ve Loved Her So Long” (from ’68’s Neil Young), the harmonies between Neil and his Crazy Horse mates and Billy Talbot’s fat bass line on the formerly sludgy “Down by the River,” and Ralph Molina’s sibilant cymbal rides on “Cowgirl in the Sand” (the latter two from ’69’s Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere).
The tone shifts somewhat on Disc 3, Live at the Riverboat (Toronto 1969) — which, by the way, though never released until now, is earmarked as Vol. 01 in Young’s separate, already growing line of historical CDs, the Archives Performance Series. This disc culls tracks from
a few nights in T.O. on an early solo tour, and the vibe is decidedly coffeehouse all the way. It’s a purely honest appearance, right down to the bum notes as Neil picks out the chords to “Expecting to Fly.” (Tip: Be on the lookout for the “Le Hibou” Easter egg.)
Disc 4, Topanga 2 (1969–1970), encompasses a fertile period. The handclaps on “Cinnamon Girl” (also from Nowhere) resound with their patented on-the-beat punch, and I got a chill hearing “wooo” exclaimed in the left channel as the storied guitar solo began its gallop. The precision on Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s threatening-to-be-ragged “Sea of Madness” (from the first soundtrack to the 1969 Woodstock festival) is refreshing, as Graham’s tenor and Neil’s vocal shout blend nicely above Neil’s organ lines.
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Another phase of Young’s ever-evolving career is displayed on Disc 6, Topanga 3 (1970). Bill Peterson’s flugelhorn solo sounds beautiful meshing with Neil’s piano on the title track of After the Gold Rush. I got a kick watching the LP-playback option for “When You Dance, I Can Really Love” (from the first pressing of Gold Rush), which shows a close-up of a dusty black tonearm with a Pickering DAT 2 needle. (When you spin vinyl, I can really love . . .) The David Crosby solo track “Music Is Love” (from If I Could Only Remember My Name) features Young on vibes in the right channel, a nice complement to the song’s layered acoustic-guitar jangle.
Disc 7, Live at Massey Hall (Toronto 1971), was also released before (in 2007 as Vol. 03 in the Performance Series). It’s Neil’s solo-acoustic unveiling of many songs unheard by audiences to that point. Besides the already issued 8mm footage of most of the show, the real gems here are the Video extras found in the More section. Two performances from the Johnny Cash on Campus TV special come from Nashville on February 7, 1971, complete with Cash doing a taped offsite introduction to Young performing “The Needle and the Damage Done” at the Ryman Auditorium. Young himself intros the song with a just-say-no drug caveat and the prescient assessment, “A lot of great art goes down the drain.”
Then comes Disc 8, North Country (1971–1972), which cultivates the Harvest period. Particularly tasty is “Heart of Gold” and the sweet harmonies of Linda Ronstadt and James Taylor on the last verse — especially Ronstadt’s upward lilt at the end of the final line, “I’ve been a miner for a heart of go-o-old.” And the detail evident in the London Symphony Orchestra’s arrangement of “A Man Needs a Maid” primed me to hear further classical treatments on Blu-ray.
Disc 9 — which, remember, is Neil-speak for the set’s 10th and final disc — is given over to the film Journey Through the Past, seeing its first release in any form since its 1973 theatrical debut. Directed by Young under his preferred nom de lens, Bernard Shakey, it includes music in DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, though we really get it only in increments, as none of the songs in surround is complete or even uninterrupted.
Early TV footage of Buffalo Springfield miming “For What It’s Worth” and “Mr. Soul” on The Hollywood Palace, shot on January 20, 1967 (and aired 3 months later), is in stereo. (This appearance can be seen in full via the Video Tape Log in the “Mr. Soul” folder on Disc 2.) It’s interspersed with Young’s visit to a Nashville radio station for an interview with DJ Scott Shannon. When the scene changes to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young at the Fillmore East on June 5, 1970, surround sound is engaged with a sweeping audience roar.
“Quiet now, quiet; shhhh,” intones Graham, and the din in the rear drops off; you’ll soon hear other audience members taking his cue and calling out in the back for silence. Acoustic guitars usher in “Find the Cost of Freedom,” with Young’s chordal pickings dominating the left front and surround channels, and Stephen’s lead lines the two rights. CSNY’s all-channel a cappella harmonizing begins sweetly, but it gets relegated to a supporting role as the onscreen action morphs to a man backstage who, gulping down a beer, disparages capitalism and the escalating price of concert tickets. Suddenly, the sonic gears shift smack into an in-progress “Ohio,” where both Young and Stills spit out electric leads in the center channel on their Gretsch White Falcons.
The film’s “Southern Man” segment is the most ferocious CSNY outing, with Young sneering through the lyrics front and center while he strangles his guitar, trading solos with Stills while Crosby’s electric 12-string comp lines do their duty in the rear. In-barn rehearsal footage of Young and the Stray Gators working through Harvest material begins with crickets chirping all around, serving as the opening act for “Alabama,” which features Ben Keith’s razor-sharp pedal-steel dominating the middle. With “Words (Between the Lines of Age)” providing the full-channel accompaniment while a hardhat-clad Young tromps through a crushed-car-strewn junkyard in Nashville, the line that comes immediately to mind can only be “Look at Mother Nature on the run in the 1970s.” And the subwoofer finally gets a workout as a fire in a sawdust burner crackles and roars while Young works through “Soldier” on piano at night.
Surround sound is also deployed for some music-free scenes. Wind whips through the rear as a bruised, bearded graduate in a black gown is dumped from a black Mercedes limo in the desert outside Las Vegas. Cresting surf comes from behind, too, as another bearded man listens to his self-propelled red Chevy truck talk back to him as he walks next to it on the beach.
AND THAT’S THE WHOLE TRIP
Do I have to come right out and say it? The gauntlet has been thrown. There is only one King of Annals atop the Blu-ray mountain. Boasting 10 discs packed with hour upon hour of high-def A/V enjoyment, Archives Vol. 1 is the benchmark by which all future retrospectives will have to be measured. You owe it to yourself to reap the rich bounty of Neil Young’s crowning archival achievement. It’s a Blu Harvest of the highest order.
WHAT’S NEXT FOR NEIL?
By Ken Richardson
When it’s finally completed, Neil Young’s Archives is expected to fill five volumes, each encompassing roughly a decade. Vol. 2, then, will cover 1972 to 1982, says Young’s manager, Elliot Roberts, who adds: “It will be ready in 2 or 3 years. We’re preparing it now; we have people working on it full-time. We believe there should be a 2- or 3-year bridge between each volume, so that you can appreciate the work.”
And the only way to really appreciate the Archives, according to Roberts, is on Blu-ray Disc. He first previewed the project during a panel discussion at this year’s South by Southwest Music Festival in Austin, Texas: “I think you’ll understand why Neil waited so long to put this out on Blu-ray. It’s not just the navigating ability, but it’s the sound, the way he always envisioned it in his head. When you get older, you start thinking about your legacy. Neil wanted to do something that would stand the test of time. And he felt, now that Blu-ray is here and has won the high-def war, he wanted his sound remembered in the best possible way, and he wanted his films and video material seen in the highest possible resolution. For Neil’s legacy, Blu-ray is just the best format that exists right now.”
Meanwhile, of course, Neil keeps releasing new records, such as April’s Fork in the Road and September’s expected Toast — an album that Sound & Vision exclusively “previewed” way back in 2001 when Young was touting his previous fave high-rez format, DVD-Audio. Those albums will likely find their way into Archives Vol. 5. And when exactly will that, and thus the entire Archives, be finished?
“Oh, it won’t be in my lifetime,” Roberts says. “I mean that literally.”