The 500 - #330 - Tonight's The Night - Neil Young

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: # 330

Album Title: Tonight's The Night

Artist: Neil Young

Genre: Blues-Rock, Country-Rock, Pre-Grunge

Recorded: Multiple Venues (Live from the floor - No Overdubs)

Released: June, 1975

My age at release: 9

How familiar was I with it before this week: One Song

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes - #302 (Up 28 spots)

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: None - Neil recently pulled his music from Spotify to protest the platform's decision to continue broadcasting conspiracy theories and Covid misinformation, particularly on The Joe Rogan Experience podcast. (Updated: December, 2024 - Neil is back on Spotify - Tonight's The Night added

How do you process grief?

I have been fortunate. I have not experienced much grief, yet we all know we are subject to deep sadness as we travel through life. And the older we get, the more evident that fact becomes. Personally, in my mid-fifties, I try not to think about such morbid matters and focus on the moment -- the present.

As a kid, I'd imagine making it to 100 years of age. I was optimistic that technology would advance to the point where most of the population born post World War II would easily reach that milestone. I suppose I still could. However, I hadn't factored in potential grief. A long life means having to say goodbye to loved ones and then living without them.

Tonight's The Night, the sixth studio album by Canadian musician Neil Young, was an album born of grief. Two close friends of Young, guitarist Danny Whitten and road crew member Bruce Berry, died of heroin overdoses around the time Young was doing preparations for the recording of this record. Whitten’s loss was particularly painful because Young had dismissed him from the studio on the night of his overdose. As the story goes, Whitten was so absorbed by his addiction that he was unable to play his guitar. Young "fired" him from the gig, telling him to go home and get better. Instead, he left and purchased the heroin that would kill him that night.

The recording was completed in the summer of 1973, mostly on the evening of August 26, but its release was delayed for two years. However, in between, Young released a live record, Time Fades Away, and another studio album, On The Beach, which was recorded in 1974.

The reason for the delay is unclear. Some speculate the record company chose to shelve it in favour of the live recordings. Others  believe it was Young's choice to keep it, temporarily, for himself as a way of dealing with the raw emotion of Whitten’s death.

A cryptic note from Young is included in the liner notes of the record. It reads, "I'm sorry. You don't know these people. This means nothing to you." This apology was to the listener who would not know Whitten and Berry -- the "people" that inspired many of the songs on the record.

The book, Neil and Me, written by his father, Scott, suggests that there are even darker versions of these recording sessions stored in Neil's private archives. All, I would suspect, was part of Young's grieving process.

Upon release, it met with little commercial success, but was lauded by music critics. Rolling Stone Magazine writer Dave Marsh summarized the album as follows:

"The record chronicles the post-hippie, post-Vietnam demise of counterculture idealism, and a generation's long, slow trickle down the drain through drugs, violence, and twisted sexuality. This is Young's only conceptually cohesive record, and it's a great one."

So, how does one process grief? I'm not sure how effectively I do it. I suppose I go through the usual stages outlined by the Kübler-Ross Model - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and, ultimately, Acceptance.

I suspect I will write regularly while working through the first four stages: A way of focusing to process the pain. I suspect this might be something Young and I have in common -- aside from being fellow Canadians -- healing through the power of creativity.

The Tragically Hip... in my hometown

Tonight, The Tragically Hip perform in my hometown of London, Ontario for the last time. I don’t have tickets. They proved too hard to secure through Ticketmaster and then, when made available through secondary providers like Stub-Hub, were far too expensive. That’s okay. I’ve seen them several times and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) will be broadcasting their final show live on August 20. Fittingly, it will be performed in the band’s hometown of Kingston, Ontario. Lead singer and lyricist Gord Downie was diagnosed with glioblastoma  - a terminal form of brain cancer  earlier this year. Consequently, this 2 month tour of Canada will be the band’s swan song.

I have always been a fan of “The Hip”. They were pure Canadiana and the riff-heavy “New Orleans is Sinking” was a staple on numerous mixed-tapes I made in the 80’s. However, over the past few weeks, I have been reminded how significant they were in the soundtrack of my 20's & 30's. I like a lot of music and my tastes are eclectic. Since escaping the tunnel-vision mindset of my youth, I have lived by the mantra that all music has value. (Well, all music that is made earnestly and passionately is of value.) Consequently, I listen to everything with an open mind and I don’t participate in Kanye, Nickleback or Bieber bashing. I simply gravitate toward the things I like most and The Hip has always had a place within that inner circle.

My first encounter with The Hip was entirely forgettable. It was the late 80’s and they were playing at a London bar called Call the Office. I was there, visiting with a friend who was about to board a train to Toronto. I paid no attention to them at all (a great regret). It was only their memorable name and later success that informs me that the event even took place. I vaguely remember wandering past the stage to use the bathroom. I am pretty sure they were playing a cover song - but, I cannot remember which one. I even left early - probably before the first set was completed.

It would be 1996 before I saw them again. I got tickets to the show at Cobo Hall in Detroit, Michigan. This would be the performance that was recorded for their live album “Live Between Us”. It was a fantastic show that was overshadowed by the theft of my wallet. I had placed my jacket under my seat, not realizing that there was access to it from the walkway behind me. It was frustrating but, not costly. I was out about $100. This was pre-9/11, so I breezed back into Canada without any identification. Simpler times. Now, when I listen to that live album I find myself preoccupied with the thought - “Was it during this song that the jerk took my wallet?”

In the last 20 years, I have only managed to see them a couple times more. I guess, like many, I assumed that I could always catch them on the next summer tour. Like warm weather, flip-flops, girls in sundresses and Dave Matthews - they are a mainstay of July and August in Canada.

I've always been a lyrics guy and Gord's poetry was, and is, a treasure for me to discover - again and again. It will always remain a gift that continues to give. I am still unwrapping rich, new substance in his words. From the haunting simplicity of Wheat Kings to the layered complexity of Nautical Disaster and even the clever humour of Poets, Gord created a tapestry of words that were both accessible and capacious. I loved that there was so much Canadiana in his writing. Gord found touchstones of my beautiful country in both familiar and obscure references that, for inexplicable reasons, resonate profoundly with me. Bobcaygeon, Bill Barilko, David Milgaard, Millhaven Maximum Security - Gord transported me to a place or time in Canada where I had never been and yet, felt like I knew.

I’ve been revisiting a lot of the band’s catalogue in the past few months. Gord’s lyrics take on a special power and significance when viewed through this current, tragic lens. I keep coming back to the song Ahead by a Century from the 1996 album Welcome to the Hen House. Twenty years ago, when I (foolishly in retrospect) felt like an old man, this song resonated in a powerful way. Today, the lyrics take on new significance in light of the situation in which I find myself - watching a gifted performer and writer say goodbye.

"First thing we'd climb a tree and maybe then we'd talk,Or sit silently and listen to our thoughts.With illusions of someday casting a golden light,No dress rehearsal, this is our life."

Thank you Gord.

May the road ahead be kind to you.