Ragged Glory
Neil Young
Reprise,
1990
Reviewed by
Ben French
So one of your friends says this album sounds too "derivative" of
Neil Young's earlier albums -- like Rust Never Sleeps Revisited or something
passe. Another one of your friends says he can't get past the country in "Country
Home." And another friend says he likes "F*!#in' Up," but you're thinking
he's only hearing Eddie Vedder's voice in his mind.
Try to tell them this: a few solid listens reveal this album to be a testament to the
creative endurance of one rock history's most unique voices. Help them understand Ragged
Glory is Neil Young's best album since Rust Never Sleeps, as well as one of
the decade's best recordings. Help them realize that they are missing out... Big time.
It's hard to call this album "retro," when you really think about it. Whereas
Neil Young incorporated the punk attitudes of the late 1970s for Rust --
borrowing ideals and feebacky sound from burgeoning English acts -- he created Ragged
Glory in the grunge world of plaid shirts and fuzzy guitars before Pearl Jam even sat
down to write a song together. True, Ragged Glory returns Neil to the days of
long, roots-based jams. And his approach is refreshing coming from a guy who was sued by
his record company in the '80s for not sounding enough like himself. But comparisons
between the sound of this album against, say, Tonight's the Night or After
the Goldrush, are only valid on the surface.
I guess you could try to compare the songs on Ragged Glory to his older material
in terms of length or style. But the straight-ahead length or anthemic sound of "Love
and Only Love" is far different than the multi-part length of "Cowgirl in the
Sand" or the angry feel of "Cortez the Killer." "F*!#in' Up" may
indeed be its best and most representative song, with an attitude totally unlike the punk
sneer of "Hey Hey, My My" or the depressed wallow of "Mellow My Mind,"
but the entire aura surrounding Ragged Glory is fresh like the smell of newly
laid manure in your back-yard garden.
Neil basically admits he keeps fucking up. But Neil likes fucking up. Fucking up is good.
And the whole album is a series of fantastic fuck-ups. Tunes are outrageously overdrawn.
Lyrics are down to earth and easily understood. Perfectly, these fuck-ups add up to one
hell of an album -- easily one of Young's most consistent, well-constructed and
best-titled works
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