Neil Young’s Archives II is hardly the treasure trove its predecessor was, but then, leave it to the Canadian rock icon to come up with an unconventional and thought-provoking premise upon which to base further plumbing the depths of his vault. Rather than simply exhume a plethora of unreleased recordings within a designated timeline for this compendium, he’s collated a fairly small percentage of previously unavailable tracks (twelve), interspersed them with a somewhat larger number of familiar numbers (fifty) in alternate takes, then mixed those all in with readily-available material.
In so doing, the total one-hundred thirty pieces of music (combined with the voluminous detail within the enclosed booklet plus the custom graphics on each compact disc fold-out sleeve) comprise an alternate history of the man’s history from 1972-1976. Call it revisionism if you will, but there are purposes both honorable and self-serving at work here: this inveterate iconoclast not only proffers a more accepting and less confrontational self-portrait but also suggests he’s kept more great songs to himself than any contemporary musical figure this side of Bob Dylan.
Disc 1 (1972-1973): Everybody’s Alone – As is to emphasize the point about his newfound equanimity, Young immediately tenders well-known tunes familiar (at least to die-hard fans) from the confrontational period “Ditch trilogy’ period right alongside culls from his very first solo album. Yet, even as the negligible differences in versions of “Yonder Stands the Sinner,” “L.A.” and “Don’t Be Denied,” juxtaposed with “The Loner” and “Last Trip to Tulsa,” may undermine the value of this set (except for the most rabid Young aficionados), the grouping of material on this initial disc it stands as a reminder that, when it comes to the work of Neil Young, completism is an exercise in frustration at best and futility at worst.
This ‘retail’ version of Archives II consists of ten CDs housed in individual mini-LP covers within a sturdy cardboard cube-shaped slip-case, alongside a twenty-four-page booklet and a nine-by-sixty inch poster, conspicuously missing the hardbound tome in the limited edition companion piece (now on sale as a standalone from the artist’s web-store)
Disc 2 (1973): Tuscaloosa – Another counterpart to Time Fades Away, albeit a slightly more tuneful one, Tuscaloosa sports most of the numbers that appeared originally on the in-your-face 1973 release. Yet this mirror image of the earlier LP, a previously-unreleased nearly hour-long collection of eleven relatively short tracks, also fills in the blanks of Neil Young’s history in the ’70s. Captured on tape at the University of Alabama, Neil and the band he dubbed The Stray Gators–the core of the roster of accompanists that had recorded Harvest–render skeletal, deceptively rudimentary arrangements on of that title tune with musicianship is as loose in its own way as the various Crazy Horse lineups.
Meanwhile, the general song selection forms a rough but nonetheless vivid narrative, including “Here We Are In The Years” off his self-titled 1969 debut album, plus a clutch of tunes from the aforementioned mainstream peak: the ramshackle air permeating “Old Man” and “Heart of Gold,” however, is a far cry from the stolid studio counterparts.
Disc 3 (1973): Tonight’s the Night – If Neil Young sounded the part of raconteur and piano man on Roxy: Tonight’s the Night Live, on this alternate version of Tonight’s The Night, he presents himself as the frontman of the house band at a (deep) dive bar, alternately warming up before the doors open–on the first version of “Speaking’ Out–or absentmindedly continuing to play after the doors close for the evening–on “Albuquerque.” The voice of Joni Mitchell definitely sounds jarring in this saucy rendition of her own “Raised On Robbery,” but in this decidedly loose atmosphere, it’s even more startling to hear such an ultra-tight take on “New Mama.”
The shadow of death (those of CSNY roadie Bruce Berry and Crazy Horse guitarist/vocalist Danny Whitten) may seem to loom somewhat less ominously over this set of songs than its counterpart, but that doesn’t mean the second version of the title tune is any less chilling than this rendition of “Tired Eyes:” the former finds Young hoping to rise above the shock that’s just beginning to hit on the latter.
Disc 4 (1973): Roxy: Tonight’s the Night Live – The ever-so-loose aggregation dubbed ‘The Santa Monica Flyers’ appearing on Neil Young’s Roxy-Tonight’s The Night Live reminds how ‘sloppy’ can be positive virtue when it comes to playing songs that as cut close-to-the-bone as these like “World On A String.” The Crazy Horse rhythm section of drummer Ralph Molina and bassist Billy Talbot, augmented with lap/pedal steel player Ben Keith and multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Nils Lofgren, had just emerged from studio sessions with Young before this date, so it only makes sense the quintet displays confidence that equals its abandon: on “Albuquerque,” for instance, the performance builds inexorably (but deceptively so) toward its authoritative conclusion in front of a rowdy crowd.
Captured here in all its ramshackle glory, originally under the supervision of Neil’s confidante and adviser, the late David Briggs, the fivesome’s ragged performance has been mastered from the original analog tapes, with further post-production by John Hanlon, the end result of which concludes with “Walk On” as welcome punctuation.
Disc 5 (1974): Walk On – A variation of On The Beach right down to its cover photo, this tracklisting still contains the lugubrious likes of that title song and “Motion Pictures,” but the surroundings are brightened considerably by the almost breezy acoustic air of “Traces,” plus an ever-so-dignified rendering of “Greensleeves” that sounds almost tongue in cheek until Young so solemnly intones the phrase ‘heart of gold;’ that moment alone is enough to make “Walk On” sound more matter of fact than defensive and “Borrowed Tune” nearly optimistic.
But then this upbeat air all begins with a harmony-laden take of “Winterlong,” which, like “Bad Fog of Loneliness,” now sounds like a thing of the past for Neil Young, not some psycho-emotional quicksand from which he’s trying to extricate himself (as was the case during the time of the so-called ‘Ditch Trilogy’ era for which this component of Archives II stands a corollary. Assembled and notated in such detail, it stands as an equally valid work brought up-to-date by the man who’s lived with it in all its various forms.
Disc 6 (1974): The Old Homestead – The project that subsequently evolved into Homegrown belies the rustic peace suggested by the cover photo of the cabin in the (red)woods. Despite the prevailing quiet of the acoustic-based tracks, occasionally decorated with simple bass and drums plus pedal steel, there’s a wary unrest in most of these songs, even with the glowing optimism of “Through My Sails.”
And Young seems subconsciously aware of his subliminal unease, committing the faux pas of multiple easy rhymes in the title tune and even now substantiating that uncertain state of mind with three versions of “Love Art Blues,” on one of which he actually yodels; perhaps his ambivalence was/is rooted in the 1974 stadium tour with his three famous friends, one live cull from which, “Pushed It Over The End,” may well sum up their tumultuous history. These sixteen cuts otherwise proffer what is perhaps as clear a self-portrait as this idiosyncratic artist has ever otherwise painted, though the compilation begs the question of the posthumous administration of Neil’s voluminous vault.
Disc 7 (1974): Homegrown – Along with Roxy and Tuscaloosa a recently-issued archive-title also included in this box, this is an album originally set for release in 1975, but pulled back because Young considered it too personal a recording, such second thoughts certainly pervade the work. But that only places it more directly in line with other titles of the man’s from that era, most specifically, Time Fades Away, Tonight’s The Night, and On The Beach, each of which, like this release, contains some truly exceptional songs and performances along with compositions and recordings that are ragged to a fault.
Within the immediate context of the album, as originally conceived, the jaunty quasi-hoedown that is “Love Is A Rose” radiates an even more casual carefree air to contrast most of its surroundings here than within the 1977 anthology Decade. In addition, placed in juxtaposition at the very end of Homegrown, the largely acoustic “Little Wing,” and “Star of Bethlehem,” represents that clarity of mind Young struggles (and usually fails) to attain on the previous ten cuts.
Disc 8 (1975) Dume – It would be unreasonable to expect such an iconoclastic figure as Neil Young to take the conventional approach to reissues of his catalog, but Dume represents essentially the opposite of most archiving efforts: largely collection of outtakes that only reaffirms the wisdom of Young’s choices for the nine tracks that make up the 1975 LP Zuma (the first one with Crazy Horse featuring guitarist/vocalist/keyboardist Frank ‘Poncho’ Sampedro).
The second re-release of the record–it was also a component of the Original Release Series Discs 5-8 in 2017–the bandleader must be proud of this one indeed, at least insofar as there’s careful remastering applied to different takes of familiar material like “Dangerbird” reside alongside the heretofore unreleased gems “Too Far Gone” and “No One Seems to Know;” superlative as those tunes are, the inclusions would only result in the dissipation of the overall power of a song sequence that as it first appeared wherein Young reached for but could not maintain radiated a clarity of mind in the records just preceding it.
Disc 9 (1976): Look Out for My Love – Sporting a small handful of tracks that appeared in different form on Long May You Run, this CD virtually renders that title obsolete. And while the generally pallid nature of material like “Fountainbleau” matches the professional but rote musicianship—except for a few live culls like “Mellow My Mind”–it also serves the purpose of reaffirming the logic of the original releases during the period. As such, it is no more redundant than American Stars ‘n’ Bars, via the presence of “Like A Hurricane,” or Comes A Time with the inclusion of the second appearance of “Human Highway” (purportedly the name of one CSNY album that never saw the light of day). The restoration of four-part harmonies on “Ocean Girl” and “Midnight On The Bay” (which caused no little friction at the time) is indicative of the more charitable, discerning perception Young’s trying to foster in this particular collection and Archives II at large: Neil seems more interested in accommodation rather than alienation.
Disc 10 (1976): Odeon Budokan – As indicated by its title, this disc does present a dichotomy, not surprisingly, the very same one upon which Neil Young staked his earliest performance reputation, that is, the acoustic solo performance contrasted with raucous, feedback-drenched rock.
Ten tracks evenly divided between London’s Hammersmith Odeon Theatre and the famous Budokan in Japan, this specific collection of concert culls juxtaposes scintillating set pieces with Young on acoustic guitar, piano and harmonica –”The Old Laughing Lady,” “After The Gold Rush“ and the extremely touching “Stringman”(in it’s second appearance)–that are hardly less concise than the inexplicably abbreviated electric choices: even in the presence of The Horse, Neil takes improvisational warhorses like “Cowgirl in the Sand ” and “Cortez The Killer” to only around five minutes in duration. The odd combination thus makes for one of the shortest rather than longest running times of all the discs in Archives II, but the choice not to fill the playing time of a compact disc may foreshadowing subsequent releases of these collections on vinyl.
