My old football coach had a tracheotomy and spoke with one of those microphone things tracheotomy patients use (I don’t know what they’re called). This left his voice sounding electronic and alarming to those who weren’t used to it; you can imagine how disconcerting it was to be rushing down the field and hearing a robotic voice repeating “RUN! RUN! RUN!” It messed with both teams’ heads and it wasn’t unusual that Coach Escobar’s voice affected the score of the game.
Likewise, when fans and the suits at Geffen Records alike heard Trans, they were jarred and confused by what Neil Young was doing (save for the ones who claimed they weren’t).
Rolling Stone, in their typically too-cool-for-the-room language, said of the album:
“‘Well, Mr. Weird is at it again,’ was one of the first reactions I heard to the synthesized sounds and Vocoderized vocals that typify a lot of the material on Neil Young’s new album, Trans. With Young, one learns to expect the unexpected...”
And they were right. After the commercial success of Harvest, the public indeed came to appreciate the unexpected from Young, starting with the hoarse, desperate delirium of Tonight’s the Night in 1975. And, as catty as the “Mr. Weird” remark may have been, the observation was not without merit. But it’s imperative to keep in mind that NY has never ventured into the eclectic, the weird, without purpose. There’s always been a method to the madness. Much like the derelict at the bus station who holds a cardboard sign declaring “The End is Near,” there’s a reason he does this. The derelict is not experimenting or making such a bold statement out of stagnancy, or for the sake of the thrill of being bold. And, surely enough, there’s a meaning, an origin, an inspiration behind the vocoders and other techno gizmos that make up the sound of Trans.
That inspiration was Neil’s son, Ben.
Born with cerebral palsy, Ben is unable to speak. Through advanced therapy sessions with his son, Young was stricken creatively by the thought of being unable to communicate. Obviously, the theme had been on his mind long before, as he’d experienced it firsthand in observing his son’s disability. And, like just about every other human being, he’d no doubt experienced personally the existential frustration of feeling unheard and misunderstood, especially as an artist whose music is so heavily scrutinized and often confounding. Though Trans does include a couple of “conventional” tracks (stemming from its beginning as an unassuming project called Islands in the Sun), the bulk of it, and the most intriguing material, is that in which Young is either misunderstood when his literal voice is distorted by the gadgetry, or when it’s his musical and artistic goals that leave one puzzled. Young paints a stunning portrait of a sterile futuristic (or maybe even current) environment and, most importantly, of a man with a lot to say struggling to communicate.
Rolling Stone summed up their review:
“despite his tinkering around with the hardware of the computer age, Neil Young is really still a sweephand clock in a digital world, a solitary quester after truth. And he continues to tick for all things enduring: love, humanity, dignity, strength. The good fight.”
The artistic accomplishment was the good news. The bad news was, among the people who didn’t get it was David Geffen, head of the eponymous record label with whom Young had recently signed. Geffen was also the most incensed. Funding for a planned film to accompany the album was pulled in retaliation for what the label’s executive deemed “uncommercial and unrepresentative work.” The film, according to Neil Young, would have made the album much more understandable. What’s more galling is that Young’s contract had assured him complete creative control.
David Geffen demanded a rock and roll record. That’s exactly what Neil Young planned to give him.
As Neil Young told it:
“I almost vindictively gave Geffen Everybody’s Rockin’. Geffen wanted more rock ‘n’ roll. That was the key phrase: ‘Well, you want some rock ‘n’ roll, do ya? Okay, fine. I can do that. As a matter of fact, my uncle was a rocker, and I’ll be him.’”
Everybody’s Rockin’ was likely recorded with the aid of Mr. Peabody and the Way Back Machine. It transported Young and his new backing band, the Shocking Pinks, to the rockabilly days of 1959. Neil and the Pinks were clad in pink and white suits and greasy, overhanging pompadours for the album’s promotional material as they dove into the role of golden age rockers. Trans had been given a pass, at least with the critics. With Everybody’s Rockin,’ however, the reception would not be so open-minded. Partly because a rockabilly record in 1983 was sinful compared to the fact that Young was at least adventuring forward with new technology on Trans.
Much like the planned film that would have accompanied Trans, Young has since said that there were two songs left unrecorded that would have fleshed out the story of Everybody’s Rockin’ and the Shocking Pinks. Perhaps those two tracks would have made what Geffen probably viewed as nostalgic parody a piece of actual storytelling. But, it’s doubtful: David Geffen’s outrage at Young’s new material prompted him to abrogate the recording sessions, leaving fans with a record just twenty-five minutes long.
In any case, whatever story told by those two lost songs is unknown, and it’s a true shame they’re not present, but the very sound of Everybody’s Rockin’ tells a story of its own. Young and his trio are living a dream dreamt by every kid who first strummed a Stratocaster in the Eisenhower era. The foursome relived the Alan Freed scandal and the bebop of a simpler age when a broken heart and 4/4 time was more than enough to make a great song. Though placed in tighter structures than the likes of “Cowgirl in the Sand,” Young manages to pull out some subtly devastating vocal performances, particularly on “Wonderin’” and “Bright Lights, Big City.” The former is especially moving, as much as earlier, more heralded material like “After the Gold Rush.”
If Harvest was the measuring stick by which all of Young’s “weird” albums were compared, no doubt Everybody’s Rockin’ was as unconventional and, admittedly, “unrepresentative” as Trans. But Neil Young wasn’t phased by being called “unrepresentative.” He’s since stated that one of his career’s motifs has been to move on quickly, before an audience can identify or stifle him in any musical box, lest they figure out what defines him.
In a way, Trans and Everybody’s Rockin’ are hard to separate from each other, though they’re musically polar opposites. They both perplexed Young’s audience more than any instance prior, and found him unable to communicate with them. But perhaps more detrimental than that, the subsequent battle between Neil Young and David Geffen is so infamous that the music is often overshadowed by the creative and legal scuffle that accompanied them. But decades later, the point of the records, the things Young was trying to express are much clearer, the music in a position to be appreciated, and their creator justified (and not just because he won the lawsuits and got an apology from Geffen). It’s a bummer that sometimes it takes forty years for a piece of music to be understood, even if just a little, but in a strange way, it compounds what Young was saying behind all those sound effects and greasy pompadours –
we really don’t understand each other, do we?
-from the book Rocktology Exam: Classic Rock's Hidden Gems
Likewise, when fans and the suits at Geffen Records alike heard Trans, they were jarred and confused by what Neil Young was doing (save for the ones who claimed they weren’t).
Rolling Stone, in their typically too-cool-for-the-room language, said of the album:
“‘Well, Mr. Weird is at it again,’ was one of the first reactions I heard to the synthesized sounds and Vocoderized vocals that typify a lot of the material on Neil Young’s new album, Trans. With Young, one learns to expect the unexpected...”And they were right. After the commercial success of Harvest, the public indeed came to appreciate the unexpected from Young, starting with the hoarse, desperate delirium of Tonight’s the Night in 1975. And, as catty as the “Mr. Weird” remark may have been, the observation was not without merit. But it’s imperative to keep in mind that NY has never ventured into the eclectic, the weird, without purpose. There’s always been a method to the madness. Much like the derelict at the bus station who holds a cardboard sign declaring “The End is Near,” there’s a reason he does this. The derelict is not experimenting or making such a bold statement out of stagnancy, or for the sake of the thrill of being bold. And, surely enough, there’s a meaning, an origin, an inspiration behind the vocoders and other techno gizmos that make up the sound of Trans.
That inspiration was Neil’s son, Ben.
Born with cerebral palsy, Ben is unable to speak. Through advanced therapy sessions with his son, Young was stricken creatively by the thought of being unable to communicate. Obviously, the theme had been on his mind long before, as he’d experienced it firsthand in observing his son’s disability. And, like just about every other human being, he’d no doubt experienced personally the existential frustration of feeling unheard and misunderstood, especially as an artist whose music is so heavily scrutinized and often confounding. Though Trans does include a couple of “conventional” tracks (stemming from its beginning as an unassuming project called Islands in the Sun), the bulk of it, and the most intriguing material, is that in which Young is either misunderstood when his literal voice is distorted by the gadgetry, or when it’s his musical and artistic goals that leave one puzzled. Young paints a stunning portrait of a sterile futuristic (or maybe even current) environment and, most importantly, of a man with a lot to say struggling to communicate.
Rolling Stone summed up their review:
“despite his tinkering around with the hardware of the computer age, Neil Young is really still a sweephand clock in a digital world, a solitary quester after truth. And he continues to tick for all things enduring: love, humanity, dignity, strength. The good fight.”
The artistic accomplishment was the good news. The bad news was, among the people who didn’t get it was David Geffen, head of the eponymous record label with whom Young had recently signed. Geffen was also the most incensed. Funding for a planned film to accompany the album was pulled in retaliation for what the label’s executive deemed “uncommercial and unrepresentative work.” The film, according to Neil Young, would have made the album much more understandable. What’s more galling is that Young’s contract had assured him complete creative control.
David Geffen demanded a rock and roll record. That’s exactly what Neil Young planned to give him.
As Neil Young told it:
“I almost vindictively gave Geffen Everybody’s Rockin’. Geffen wanted more rock ‘n’ roll. That was the key phrase: ‘Well, you want some rock ‘n’ roll, do ya? Okay, fine. I can do that. As a matter of fact, my uncle was a rocker, and I’ll be him.’”
Much like the planned film that would have accompanied Trans, Young has since said that there were two songs left unrecorded that would have fleshed out the story of Everybody’s Rockin’ and the Shocking Pinks. Perhaps those two tracks would have made what Geffen probably viewed as nostalgic parody a piece of actual storytelling. But, it’s doubtful: David Geffen’s outrage at Young’s new material prompted him to abrogate the recording sessions, leaving fans with a record just twenty-five minutes long.
In any case, whatever story told by those two lost songs is unknown, and it’s a true shame they’re not present, but the very sound of Everybody’s Rockin’ tells a story of its own. Young and his trio are living a dream dreamt by every kid who first strummed a Stratocaster in the Eisenhower era. The foursome relived the Alan Freed scandal and the bebop of a simpler age when a broken heart and 4/4 time was more than enough to make a great song. Though placed in tighter structures than the likes of “Cowgirl in the Sand,” Young manages to pull out some subtly devastating vocal performances, particularly on “Wonderin’” and “Bright Lights, Big City.” The former is especially moving, as much as earlier, more heralded material like “After the Gold Rush.”
If Harvest was the measuring stick by which all of Young’s “weird” albums were compared, no doubt Everybody’s Rockin’ was as unconventional and, admittedly, “unrepresentative” as Trans. But Neil Young wasn’t phased by being called “unrepresentative.” He’s since stated that one of his career’s motifs has been to move on quickly, before an audience can identify or stifle him in any musical box, lest they figure out what defines him.
In a way, Trans and Everybody’s Rockin’ are hard to separate from each other, though they’re musically polar opposites. They both perplexed Young’s audience more than any instance prior, and found him unable to communicate with them. But perhaps more detrimental than that, the subsequent battle between Neil Young and David Geffen is so infamous that the music is often overshadowed by the creative and legal scuffle that accompanied them. But decades later, the point of the records, the things Young was trying to express are much clearer, the music in a position to be appreciated, and their creator justified (and not just because he won the lawsuits and got an apology from Geffen). It’s a bummer that sometimes it takes forty years for a piece of music to be understood, even if just a little, but in a strange way, it compounds what Young was saying behind all those sound effects and greasy pompadours –
we really don’t understand each other, do we?
-from the book Rocktology Exam: Classic Rock's Hidden Gems
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