Neil Young, Ryman Auditorium, June 2nd, 2010

A burning, bright day retreated suddenly at the advance of a summer
squall in Nashville last Wednesday. Threatening skies churned out a
torrent of rain, pouring down in sheets on the downtown area. Outside
the Ryman Auditorium, an unsuspecting crowd scattered in all
directions, seeking shelter beneath the awning of a parking garage and
nearby buildings. For a brief moment, the streams washing down 4th
Avenue were reminiscent of recent events. Barely a month has passed
since three days of relentless rain sent the swollen Cumberland River
coursing out of its banks, causing widespread destruction in the
Nashville area.

Just before the doors opened, the waterworks shut off and hundreds of
people made their way into the venue, clothes and hair dripping with
rain. The drenched gathering had braved the storm to witness the
Nashville stop of Neil Young’s Twisted Road tour at the Ryman.

The Ryman Auditorium itself is captivating. Originally constructed to
serve as a church, its structure is quite literally that of a
cathedral. Curved wooden pews surround the stage, seating a mere 2300
patrons. Giant panels of stained glass filter pale light onto the backs
of the audience and upon the foot of the stage. The building was home
to the Grand Ole Opry until 1974, and at one time served as the stage
for The Johnny Cash Show. It is now known as The Mother Church of
Country Music, and for good reason. The aesthetics of the place serve
as a conductor for an experience that combines both the musical and the
spiritual. It was within this context that Neil Young took the stage,
accompanied by Hank Williams’ old guitar.

At the sight of him, the audience exploded into a roaring applause. The
artist very calmly walked to the front of the stage and took his seat.
He casually dipped his harmonica in a bucket and shook the water out
upon the stage. With the crowd continuing to applaud, he began to roll
up his shirt sleeves. Here was just another working man, preparing
himself for the job.

The first few selections were classic Neil Young. He began with My, My,
Hey, Hey (Out of the Blue), followed by Tell Me Why and Helpless. His
one-of-a-kind high tenor cried out, “it’s better to burn out, cause
rust never sleeps”. The solo performance beautifully met with the
unique acoustics of the venue, creating an overwhelming wave of sound
that flooded the entire building.

The middle part of the set was generally comprised of new material. His
lyrics touched on a myriad of intensely personal subjects. You Never
Call seemed to detail the lonely reality of losing an old friend.
Peaceful Valley mourned a world besieged by violence and environmental
ruin. In Love & War, Mr. Young seemed to question himself, singing,
“I sang about justice and I hit a bad chord, but I still try to sing
about love and war”.


Afterward, Young walked to the rear of the stage and returned with Old
Black – his famously modified 1953 Gibson Les Paul Goldtop. The stage
was at once lit completely in burning red light as the unmistakable
introduction to Down By the River rang out. He next went to a golden
organ to sing After the Gold Rush. A silhouette of vines fell upon the
back of his flannel work shirt as he played. The lyrics, “Look at
Mother Nature on the run in the 21st century” were sobering,
considering he first delivered this same message some forty years ago.

Perhaps the most emotionally charged moment came when the musician went
to a pink piano covered in red roses to play I Believe in You. His
voice was never more vulnerable. Regarding this particular song, Mr.
Young has written that it “says all there is to say”.

At its conclusion, the room fell quiet for a moment and a brash
audience member yelled out, “Whatever you want, Neil!” The performer
only nodded, as he turned to pick up his electric White Falcon and began to play Rumblin’ . The low, hard vibrations of the song rattled a display case
containing Connie Smith’s guitar with such force, that it seemed on the
verge of shattering into a thousand points of glass.

Pounding versions of Cortez the Killer and Cinnamon Girl followed, as Young leaned in hard and stepped off the rhythm with his trademark
stomp dance.

At the first encore, he once again held Hank’s guitar and sang Old Man.
The final encore was the new song, Walk With Me. It could have been
directed at his faithful fans: “I feel your love, I feel your strong
love, I feel your patience, I feel your strength, I feel your faith in
me, I’ll never let you down, if you’ll just walk with me”. He brought
the song and the evening to a close by turning to the amplifiers,
sending audio feedback pulsating through the crowd.

As enraptured fans made their way out into the night, the lovely calm
summer sky seemed so strange, since only a few hours previous a
storm had raged outside. But isn't that always our experience with a
force of nature? Powerless, we have no course of action other than to
look on in wonder, left in its wake to consider the implications of
what we have witnessed.