Sitting in my friend John’s car, snapping in our seatbelts before heading out for lunch, John asked me, “Why Neil Young?” I had never thought about the why’s of being a fan of Neil, so an answer didn’t readily come to mind. I lowered my head, thought about it, and broadening the question, I asked myself, “Why do we prefer some artists over others?” After some thought, I realized that we appreciate artists that make us feel something; we connect with their artwork on an emotional level. Great art connects us to something larger, something that goes beyond the everyday and approaches the eternal. When an artist is creating on a higher level, they are connecting with “creative force” and if we are tuned in, we can experience it through them and their creation. I was going to respond by asking John the same question, “Why do you like the artists you like?”, confident he would come to the same answer I did, but decided to go with the simple truth, “Because he makes me feel something.” Before I could give my response, his cell phone rang and we never got back to the question.
The first time I saw Neil was in Madison, Wisconsin, at the Dane County Veterans Memorial Coliseum on Monday, October 16, 1978. A month earlier, my roommate Kenny had asked me, “Neil Young is coming to town. Do you want to go see him?” I asked, “Who’s Neil Young?” He replied, “You know, Neil Young – Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. That Neil Young.” I liked some CSN&Y songs but wasn’t familiar enough with the band to know its members, with the same being true for Neil’s previous band, Buffalo Springfield. I replied to Kenny, “Sure, let’s get some tickets.” I didn’t realize the immense effect this quick decision would have, the door that I was opening to a body of work that has sustained me in difficult times and brought immeasurable joy into my life.
The line was already long when we arrived at the Coliseum box office about 7 pm the evening before tickets were to go on sale at 8 am. We were prepared to camp out but were surprised by how many others were willing to do the same and got there before us. We didn’t factor in that Bob Dylan was playing the same venue on November 1st and those tickets were also for sale. We decided to buy tickets for both. It was a long night without much sleep, but the line was largely college students, and it turned into a party that lasted late into the night. When we had had enough, we just zipped up our army jackets, pulled up our hoods, and lay down on the asphalt using our arms as pillows. At sunup we awoke tired, sore, cold, and hungry. The line moved slowly when the box office opened and getting to the front seemed an eternity. It was all worth it once we secured our tickets.
The lines were huge getting into the Coliseum on show nigh; the event was sold out. I had a press pass as a photographer for the Wisconsin Badger Yearbook and was free to wander around. Huge replicas of moving cases and amps filled the stage, making the crew look tiny as they scampered around in brown hooded cloaks with red lights for eyes, reminiscent of Star Wars characters. The opening set was acoustic–just Neil, his guitar, and harmonica. A spotlight hit one of the large cases and it started to rise slowly into the air until it revealed a platform 20 feet up, and there was Neil, lying in a sleeping bag, pretending to be awakening from a deep sleep. He looked around, climbed out of the sleeping bag, wiped the sleep from his eyes, picked up his guitar and started playing Sugar Mountain. Neil’s slender frame was dressed simply in white, T-shirt and slacks with red suspenders. Short-haired and clean shaven, he looked more like a teenager than a 34-year-old rocker. He was captivating as he played from a kneeling position, moving carefully to standing, playing guitar and singing the whole way down the long flight of stairs. He was graceful and light as he moved around the stage playing one extraordinary song after another. I kept looking around to see where the other musicians were; I couldn’t believe all this beautiful sound was coming from one musician.
After the first set, there was an intermission, and when the stage lights came back on, they illuminated a full band, Crazy Horse: Neil on guitar along with Frank “Poncho” Sampedro, Billy Talbot on bass, and Ralph Molina on drums. These guys rocked like I’d never heard before. I usually have to hear a song a few times before I like it, but as each new song was played, I fell in love with it. Their music lifted me to a higher place, a space that was no longer contained by the arena that hosted it. In these elevated energies it was easy to forget my photographic responsibilities and I didn’t meter my camera correctly for the spotlights. I was devastated when my two rolls of film were developed, all so overexposed that practically nothing was useable. It was the worst photographic performance of my life, in stark contrast to the brilliant performance I had just witnessed.
I’ve attended over 200 rock, blues, and jazz concerts since that night in Madison almost 50 years ago. I’ve witnessed spectacular performances by The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Who, Fleetwood Mac, Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Bruce Springsteen, The Pretenders, Cat Stevens, Lou Reed, and so many more. I’ve been blessed to see over 30 of Neil’s astounding performances, each time taking me with him on his mystical musical journey, including four soulful “Polar Vortex” solo shows, two rocking Chrome Hearts shows, and two truly transcendent Roxy 50th Anniversary shows. To this day, Crazy Horse’s Rust Never Sleeps is still my favorite concert of all time.
Lou Adler and Bob Baracani at the Roxy Theater, Los Angeles, September 21, 2023.
Neil Young with Crazy Horse at FirstBank Amphitheater, Franklin, Tennessee, May 9, 2024. Photo by Robert Baracani.