Neil Young - SugarMountain: Live AtCanterbury House

Tue 24th Feb, 2009 in Music Reviews

When somebody pressed – œrecord’ on a November night at a Detroit theatre in 1968, history was being made, even if nobody there knew it at the time. It begins with a hilariously awkward introduction by the unnamed emcee (“I hope the waitresses got to you…we expected uh, ah, a lot less people”) and unfolds as a surprising and revealing document of a great songwriter before he attained greatness, an icon when he was still a hungry, up-and-coming contender.

Earlier that year, Neil Young’s first band Buffalo Springfield had imploded after a productive, if never harmonious, three year existence. This set rests heavily on songs from that band ( Mr. Soul, Out of My Mind, On The Way Home, Broken Arrow ) and exclusively showcases Young’s mellow, pastoral folk side as opposed to the righteous, free-wheeling rock he is also capable of producing, even when only accompanied by a battered acoustic.

The sense of resignation and world-weariness which would soon mark his output (think Old Man or The Needle and The Damage Done ) were not yet present. Instead his early work is characterised by a still, reflective mood which paired keening vocals with uncluttered, purposeful guitar lines. Of the songs here which would appear on his self-titled debut, the most notable is perhaps The Loner, which hints at his ability to craft mini-epics and his interest in the romantic myth of the outsider. Other familiar themes surface in The Last Trip to Tulsa, which shows a fascination with Native American lore.

A fragmentary version of Winterlong makes an appearance, before Young abandons it, conceding the song is unfinished. Later, there’s a light-hearted detour into Classical Gas, which is also scrapped within moments. “I never plan anything ahead,” Young says. He’s not kidding – the set is scattered with breaks for tuning, exploratory beginnings to songs and a general feel of unstudied improvisation.

Birds, on the other hand, is exquisitely polished – the sound dipping to barely-there guitar touches and whispered choirboy vocals. It’s one of his best songs of this period and an enduring work of frail beauty. The title track is also very fine, conjuring up a richly nostalgic feel and conveying a deep, pure yearning. Curiously enough, however, it was never to appear on an album proper, being relegated to B-side status for the single Everybody Knows This is Nowhere.

Unlike his recent Australian tour, this show finds Young in a talkative mood, self-effacing and a little goofy. Almost half the tracks consist of him telling lengthy anecdotes about an ill-fated spell as a constantly stoned bookstore serf, the joys of receiving songwriting residuals (“I didn’t know what that word meant until I got it”) and spending said residuals on a classic car. While the snippets of banter are arguably an indulgent touch, their inclusion means Sugar Mountain is complete as a historical artifact.

The best was yet to come, of course: the deserved commercial breakthrough of Harvest was three years away while artistic peaks such as Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, After The Gold Rush and Only Love Can Break Your Heart would be written in the coming months. Sugar Mountain is by no means a comprehensive look at Young the performing artist nor a career high. Instead, it’s an invaluable time capsule, a snapshot of an artist yet to reach the most heady heights. As such, it’s imperfect and a touch rambling, but absolutely fascinating and a must for fans.

Sugar Mountain: Live At Canterbury House is out now on Warner Music.