Tag Archives: Karl T Himmel

Homegrown – Neil Young

For some reason, I missed Homegrown when it was released in the summer. I think I felt like I’d had enough new music by singer-songwriter icons for a while after Dylan’s Rough and Rowdy Ways came out, and figured I’d get back to it sooner or later. It took six months, but I finally sat down with it for the first time on Friday.

My reaction is, I have to admit, one of mild disappointment. It’s not fair to the music to judge it against the myth that has become attached to it, but Homegrown has built up a legend as a great lost masterpiece, something too emotionally powerful to have been released while its author was still in the thick of the events it describes. Even Young himself has talked it up as “the missing link between Harvest, Comes a Time, Old Ways and Harvest Moon“.

Leaving aside the fact that Old Ways doesn’t really belong in that list (I think it’s trying to do a different thing, something more country qua country, rather than country rock), I find it hard to hear Homegrown as fitting in that lineage. It seems truer to place it as a part of the run of smashed, bummer albums that included Time Fades Away (recorded on tour Feb-Apr ’73), Tonight’s the Night (recorded Aug-Sep ’73) and On the Beach (recorded Feb-Apr ’74). It’s more acoustic than On the Beach and Tonight’s the Night, less defiant and more tenderly wounded, but it doesn’t have the smoothness implied by Young’s sales pitch for the record.

What I will say for Homegrown is that it starts and ends well. Separate Ways, the opening track, is a little sketchy (Levon Helm sounds like he’s hearing the song for the first time; Tim Drummond’s timing is off for a substantial chunk of the song), but it’s a really fine piece of writing, with a couple of killer changes.

The four-song run that finished the album, meanwhile, is killer. White Line has something of the devastating simplicity of Neil masterpieces like Heart of Gold and Don’t Let it Bring You Down, and for me is only a narrow notch below both of those. Vacancy spits fire like an outtake from Everybody Knows this is Nowhere, although Karl Himmel’s drum fills are several orders of complexity above anything Ralph Molina ever attempted. The delicate, childlike Little Wing is another heart-sore ballad, in this case one that surfaced in 1980 on Hawks and Doves. Young’s chunky acoustic rhythm guitar is one of my favourite sounds in recorded music, so this one is made for me, as is Star of Bethlehem, which adds Drummond and Himmel, as well a guesting Emmylou Harris on harmonies and Ben Keith on Dobro.

It’s not all at that level, sadly. We can discount Florida, a shaggy-dog spoken word interlude in which Young talks about rescuing a baby after its parents are killed in a freak hang-gliding accident, but the first side of the record just doesn’t grab me other than Separate Ways and Kansas. I’ve never really felt that warmly towards Love is a Rose, which first appeared on Decade and was also recorded by Linda Ronstadt, while Homegrown is a lightweight goof that doesn’t have the desperation that underpins, say, Roll Another Number for the Road from Tonight’s the Night. Mexico is a sketch, albeit a pretty one. Try is just meh.

As I say, no record could live up to the expectations that big Neil Young fans had for Homegrown. Off the back of reading Shakey, Jimmy McDonough’s biography of Young, I expected it to be epochal. Instead it feels to me like a 7/10 record with a couple of songs that would get full marks or something close.

Worth hearing for Separate Ways, Vacancy, White Line, Little Wing and Star of Bethlehem, but don’t expect it to be at the level of On the Beach quality wise, or stylistically of a piece with Harvest or Comes a Time.

Neil Young, some time in 1974