Neil Young’s first studio album of original music with Crazy Horse since the so-so Greendale experiment nine years ago is also his second release of 2012, following the Americana covers record back in June. Giving up drugs has obviously improved Young’s work ethic: he’s also just released his 512-page autobiography, Waging Heavy Peace. Psychedelic Pill is a double CD collection, albeit with just nine songs, but buyers certainly won’t feel short-changed as it clocks in at close to the hour-and-a-half mark.
When it comes to epic rock songs, nobody does them quite as well, or as long, as Young, with three of the nine tracks weighing in at a combined length of over an hour. Even Bob Dylan’s recent attempt, the 14-minute ‘Tempest’, feels like a throwaway punk rant compared to the 27-plus minutes of opener ‘Driftin’ Back’, which is longer than some bands’ whole albums (Slayer, I’m looking at you!).
But is it any good? Well, yeah, it’s a cracking helping of classic Young: serrated guitar, fuzzy melody, country overtones and a laidback, mid-paced shuffle, complete with the kind of yearning rawk that made you fall in love with ‘Like A Hurricane’ the first time you heard it. It does feel a bit like sitting through the Apocalypse Now director’s cut in slo-mo, though, with maybe five or six too many guitar solos for all but the most hardened fanatics of Old Shakey: HP managed to make dinner, feed the cat and hoover the kitchen all before the song had run its meandering course. But then, the gnarly Canadian has never felt the need to conform to expectations. Wilfully contrary, there are even two, minimally different, versions of the stomping glam rock title track: it’s good, but not that good, Neil.
These are minor quibbles, however, as Psychedelic Pill is Young’s most essential work for years. Clear-eyed reflection obviously suits him, as the lyrics are his finest in ages, whether it’s casting his eyes over a life well lived (‘Ramada Inn’) or the music he loves (‘Twisted Road’). Plus, when Crazy Horse are in this form, they’re the best rock band in the world, from the country hoe-down of ‘Born In Ontario’ to the down-home hippy-fest that is ‘For The Love Of Man’, the instantly familiar chug-a-lug of ‘She’s Always Dancing’ or the apocalyptic ‘Walk Like A Giant’. This is the sound of Neil Young and Crazy Horse falling in love with rock again and ‘dreamin’ bout the way things sound’. Here endeth the lesson.