It’s not as if any such reaffirmation was really necessary at the time, but 1990’s Ragged Glory (released 9/9/90) proved Neil Young’s return to form the previous year on Freedom was no fluke. The 1989 album was grounded in the acoustic/electric dichotomy the Canadian had long since mastered and effectively concluded a decade of experiment, misconception and downright aberrant behavior on the part of this willful iconoclast (to be fair, most of it deliberately aimed at label honcho David Geffen). And, in case anyone might miss the point, he book-ended the dozen tracks with a version of “Rockin’ in the Free World” in each style.
Less than a year later, Young reunited with Crazy Horse, seeming fully intent on evoking the spirit of their original bonding in 1969 on Everywhere Knows This Is Nowhere. The late Danny Whitten played guitar and sang on that seminal release, while in the quartet’s subsequent incarnation (following the latter’s tragic demise), guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist Frank ” Poncho” Sampedro appeared to reignite an altogether similar chemistry on 1975’s Zuma. Following Live Rust, predating Weld and more than fully living up to this record’s title (political implications aside), Neil and the reconfigured ensemble continued in that simple yet effective, cacophonous vein with Ragged Glory, absolutely reveling in how deeply they relished playing together.
In fact, the four-way simpatico is such the quartet doesn’t have to think too much about what they’re playing for the musicianship to radiate a gleeful spontaneity. The informality no doubt explains why two cuts extend past the ten-minute mark, “Love To Burn” and “Love And Only Love,” with another one over eight, “Over And Over,” while the opener, “Country Home,” goes just past seven. And there’s no wandering aimlessly either, as layers of distortion, combined with the feedback that ends many tracks, almost but not quite camouflage the country twang with which the electric guitars permeate “White Line.”
But even apart from the din emanating from the two fretboards, there’s no mistaking this forthright rhythm section either. Bassist Billy Talbot and drummer Ralph Molina drive home the points the bandleader/songwriter is making in original material here like “Mansion On The Hill” and “Days That Used To Be.” “Mother Earth” is a glaring exception to that pithy unself-conscious rule, though, as the quasi-anthem foreshadows Young’s often overweening environmental concerns of recent years. Fortunately, that cut’s placed at the very end of the track sequence, so it doesn’t interrupt the preceding clamor, but even so, the joyous garage band stomp of “Farmer John” fully compensates for the topical faux pas by offsetting its sanctimony with a loopy tongue-in-cheek air.
True to an independent spirit dating back to his days in Buffalo Springfield, Neil Young would continue to range far and wide in the years subsequent to Ragged Glory. But the sound and spirit of this watershed album would function something like ground zero for him as he again befriended Crosby, Stills & Nash circa Living With War, conceded to the mainstream with Harvest Moon and, in 2015, found some new comrades by the name of Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real.
Yet even as that precocious latter group supported Young in the studio and on the road as of The Monsanto Years, their rambunctious soul evoked nothing so much as Neil and Crazy Horse at their finest; is it much surprise the latter foursome got together again for some off-the-cuff shows in 2018 (recruiting long-time compadre and early CH member Nils Lofgren in place of Sampedro), then made a record (Colorado) the very next year?
Yet, before that abrupt (sic) sequence of events, through works from the era slightly prior, including Psychedelic Pill and Americana, Young and The Horse became virtually synonymous with each other (notwithstanding internal friction that arose between their collaborations). The chord the foursome struck in 1990 so fully captured the resonance of their initial formation, in fact, that it won the acclamation of notable members of the burgeoning grunge scene of the time, a mutual admiration that resulted in-studio and live collaborations with Pearl Jam (see Mirror Ball) as well as an elegy for the late Kurt Cobain, Sleeps With Angels. Based on this period of his career alone, Neil’s (perceived) credibility remains stable even today, his integrity informing work far less substantial than, or purposeful as, Ragged Glory.
