Effing Genius

Neil Young, Maria McKee - New York Palladium, September 5/6 1989

by Harold De Muir

The venue was horrid, the audience was a fright and the performance was substandard. But it didn't matter, because Neil Young is an effing genius who, even on an off-night, blows the pants off any number of pseudo-gritty johnny-come-latelies with pretentions to sincerity.

Now, in the wake of several disappointing LPs and a bizarre foray into Reaganist nationalism, Young is in the midst of what appears to be a substantial artistic rejuvenation. His forthcoming LP 'Freedom' is the best thing he's done in ages, returing him to the combination of introspection and fatalistic garage rock that's produced his best, and best-selling, music.

Trouble was in the air from the start of Maria McKee's opening set. Accompanied only by a keyboard player and her own acoustic guitar, the former Lone Justice chanteuse was afforded a golden opportunity to show off the raw talent and innate star quality that was often stiffed during her former combo's brief, hype-ridden lifespan. Unfortunately, for much of her 35-minute set, McKee was outshouted by the still arriving bridge-and-tunnel crowd. None the less, while still an unproven commercial quantity in the US, McKee managed to elicit a surprisingly enthusiastic response from Young's pothead audience. Not surprising, since while McKee has yet to make a record that does her justice, she invariably sings her heart out in a live situation. What stood out more than the serviceable material was the image of the scrappy McKee toughing it out and winning over an audience that's in the habit of hassling support acts in sports arenas.

Neil Young, on the other hand, is in the habit of ignoring his fans' expectations and maintaining his rock-star status anyway. Though his recent record sales have paled as his artistic direction has temporarily foundered, Young remains a consistent draw on the arena circuit,and his current acoustic solo tour offers the chance to catch the artist minus the gimmicky stances that he regularly uses to keep himself and his audience on their toes. With his radio guitar and mic allowing him to slither sullenly around the stage, the temporarily reborn folkie mixed still-potent oldies with stunning new material, tossing in the occasional rarely-performed oddity like 'Winterlong' and' Pocahontas'.

Two long time Young cohorts, Ben Keith and Frank Sampedro, joined on Dobro and mandolin respectively for several numbers, but it was Young whose unusually sullen demeanour dominated the evening. Though he seemed preoccupied and distractedby the cameras that were taping the show for a cable-TV special (at one point he stopped the set to demand that the camera crew turn down the house lights), he remains a weirdly compelling stage presence. Despite the artist's bad mood and the audience's predictable reaction (the "getting high" line in 'After The Gold Rush' received the biggest response), hoary old AOR war horses like 'Sugar Mountain' and 'Heart Of Gold' still pack considerable psychic punch. But it was the new stuff, from the bleak urban landscapes of 'Rockin In The Free World' (which he inexplicably performed twice) and 'Crime In The City' to the poignant introspection of 'Someday' and 'Too Far Gone', that reminded us why, alone amongst his Woodstock contemporaries, Neil Young remains an Effing Genius. Long may he run.