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HOME BEFORE DARK


Photoshop work by Ian Shults
July, 2008 - It's been a couple months since I first picked up Neil Diamond's latest album, Home Before Dark'.  It's taken that long to come back to it trying to find a nugget of solace.

The album's title can really be reduced from three words to one: Dark.  And then it can be re-composed back to three words: "Dark, Dark, Dark".
 
NEIL DIAMOND'S CAREER
This was Neil's second collaboration with Rick Rubin. The first, 2005's Twelve Songs, was a masterpiece that even won over some of my friends who detest Neil Diamond in every way.  Forced to sit down in front of a mic with a guitar, Neil wrote some incredible songs dripping with experience and a certain sense of futility carefully mixed with the hopeful charges of a budding relationship. 

With all of the sideshow bells and whistles and sequins stripped away from the music, the heart of Neil's music shined through: his songwriting.  The guitars were understated, and epics like 'Hell Yeah' 'Oh Mary' and 'Evermore' all rise above the normal pop standards but mix well with the pop glaze provided by Brian Wilson's backing vocals on 'Delirious Love'.  The album was a throwback to his earliest and most successful work, the late 60's and early 70's, when he was still known as a songwriter with a keen eye for a deadly cover (Both Sides Now, Mr. Bojangles, He' Ain't Heavy). 

Of course, his early hits struck a real pop chord - Cherry Cherry got him out of the gates in true 60's pop fashion, and his I'm a Believer followed suit to help pay the bills, but at the heart of Neil's music is an undeniable sadness and longing.  Solitary Man, despite its pop beat, holds true to the title, while his follow up hits all struck a depressing tone - Love on the Rocks, Song Sung Blue, You Don't Bring Me Flowers, and Red, Red Wine (not the horrible reggae 80's cover, the original where Neil desperately prays, "make me forget I still need a soul"). 

For an example of intent in his songs, check out Forever in Blue Jeans.  In that original, the song can be seen as more of a plea to avoid a breakup than the reckless joy of his upbeat, live version, complete with all the horns and overblown production that made half of America forget about the real Neil Diamond.

Of course, none of those songs touch the sheer existential angst of I Am I Said, which features a lonely Neil shouting out against the world, and not even a chair will hear his words.  That song alone balances out the empty pop drivel of Sweet Caroline and Cracklin' Rosie, as well as most of his over produced schlock of the 80's and 90's, where his art was deeply compromised by bad ideas, his live persona, and a loss of self awareness. 

Truly, Neil's artistic path is one of a quest to find true love and the unnerving realization the world is an awfully lonely and cold place without much sympathy.  Got all that?  Good, this whole story gets more interesting, and we haven't scratched his new album yet.
 

 

BILLY JOEL
Lately, I've been inundated with Ian's obsession with Billy Joel.  I've included a reference to this bizarre pop star in both comic books I've written so far as an in-joke and nod to the ridiculous times we've shared watching old videos and breaking out the wrenches for an impromptu sing-a-long to Uptown Girl

Through all of the steady nights of listening to the music, and especially watching the videos (Tell Her About It, It's Still Rock and Roll, Keeping the Faith, A Matter of Trust), you can see an undeniable longing to be in a different place and time, with the innocent and ever hopeful outlook that music and art can have a great effect on the world.  Most of Billy Joel's songs are about the chase, convincing himself and his lover that they can truly be happy.  In Chuck Klosterman's haunting article the Stranger, which is a must read, Billy Joel is shown to lead one of the most depressed lives out there.  Unable to attain happiness and true love with even Christie Brinkley, Joel is still out there today - unhappy, jealous of being disregarded by the music world, and unable to create anything. 

I think his depressive state is a truer artistic hole than the one Rothko painted himself into.  While Rothko started with minimalism and never grew out of it, Joel recorded heart breaking after heartbreaking album with the dream of finding true love for over thirty years, and even though he still performs his pop tarnished hits in concert, can't write anymore and can no longer see past the futility of the world. 

But despite his quest for acceptance and coolness, he continues on, and even though he's not acting on his creativity, he still is curious to find out if his true love and happiness is out there. 
 

 
HOME BEFORE DARK
And somehow, all of this gets back to Neil Diamond's latest album.  Comprised of twelve songs, this album sounds great.  The songwriting is still the strongest part of the whole concept.  The songs are strictly the vehicle for Neil's darkest lyrics ever.  Carrying on the themes and outlook of 12 Songs, Home Before Dark feels oddly dressed up for some reason.  Despite the heavy acoustic guitars, it sounds like Neil felt he needed to add a few pop embellishments - backup singers on 'Don't Go There', Natalie Maines on 'Another Day', an attempted anthem in 'One More Bite of the Apple' - to prove to everyone he still had these tricks up his sleeve.  This lack of confidence betrays the songs, and creates a void on the album for a true pop song that glittered like 'Cherry, Cherry'. 
 
The lyrics are simply haunting at times.  Despite the newfound interest at this late stage of his career, Neil still confesses, "God knows it's lonely out there/ I made it once on my own/ and hardly anyone cared" in 'If I Don't See You Again', and his thoughts deepen: "There's nothing worse when you're lost/and you don't want to go home" then culminates with "Who am I kidding I'm going nowhere". "This could be the most expensive album that could've been recorded on a four track, but since Rick Rubin is involved, it cost ten million dollars." - Ian Shults, The Ends.

Some of the lyrics sound a bit clunky, and it feels like a lot of the songs drag on longer than they should - again, almost a case of Neil playing to his strength and overdoing the writing by 30%.  It's a terribly hard thing for an artist to be true to himself without going overboard and falling for that old art school adage, 'Doing one of anything is bad, doing 100 is art!'.  Where was Rick Rubin to reign in some of this?  Is his role as Neil's muse simply to sit him down and make him write, rewrite, mutter to himself, write some more, then pick up a guitar and record an album? 

I appreciate the efforts on the album, and 12 Songs seemed primed to usher in Neil's Golden Age - a return to his strengths and roots, and the follow-up album was long anticipated, but sadly, it falls short of delivering the goods.  It's an interesting path, but sometimes, we get lost in the dark and don't realize it soon enough.
 

 

TYING IT ALL TOGETHER
So what does this whole rambling, insignificant post mean anyway?  It's been churning around in my head for months, and I think it comes down to the path of the artist.  Despite the best intentions or most solid planning available, I think true artists are thrust down a path they have no idea where it'll end up.  People can point and tell them what works and what doesn't, but ultimately all of that is irrelevant.  The artist has to run through his own fields, for better or worse, and trip and fall along the way.  Despite their sensitivities and desires, I think a true artist is the person that is endlessly creating things, and the analysis comes at the end of the road. 

At the same time, its hard but very necessary for the artist to take a look at his work with a very thorough and critical eye, but even the best artists have a blind spot that has them chase down shadows and dead ends from time to time.  It's the hope that the experience of those misleading clues helps solidify their main body of work, and it'd be a fantastic but unrealistic conclusion to think every artist finds their way and ultimately is able to paint, compose or sculpt their masterpiece.

Both Billy Joel and Neil Diamond have their own tendencies, like all artists, and I think are truly filled with the longing and desires of a real artist.  It's hard to balance commercial appeal and pop sensibilities with earnest emotions and thoughts.  Popular artists - Monet, Van Gogh and Picasso among them - all are derided a bit by contemporary artists because their work is emblazoned on every coffee mug, mousepad, and totebag from museums across the world, yet their work does possess a vitality and richness that is much more encompassing than most of their audiences every realize. 

I believe in Neil Diamond, and to a lesser degree, Billy Joel, and honestly believe they are two of the most interesting American artists of the past fifty years.

 
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