The first release from the NEIL YOUNG ‘Performance Series’ archives and a long-awaited one, the self-explanatory ‘Live At The Fillmore East, March 6 & 7, 1970’ catches CRAZY HORSE at their ragged, firebrand live best in one of their last stands with original guitarist Danny Whitten playing a spirited second guitar and vocal fiddle to the his then-emerging superstar boss.
Admittedly, this reviewer is probably a little biased in his summation here, seeing as one of his five favourite albums of all time is the first NY & CH album ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’, but to hear the highlights from it (tragically minus ‘Cinnamon Girl’) played with such empathy and passion is…well, suffice it to say it’s been more than worth the wait for Neil and Reprise to finally raid the vaults.
Long dubbed “America’s Rolling Stones” in the ‘70s, Crazy Horse at their best played rock’n’roll with a raggy-assed, dog-eared, but utterly soulful precision and at this 2-night stand at Bill Graham’s legendary NYC haunt, they display it in droves, making you wonder what might have happened if Young hadn’t been lured away by Crosby, Stills & Nash at the time. Indeed, such is the intuition that visits the four protagonists here (plus guest piano maverick Jack Nitszche) it’s hard to believe that Crazy Horse were becoming the secondary priority for Young at the time.
The set opens with the gorgeously sad and resigned ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’. Bassist Billy Talbot and drummer Ralph Molina lurch in behind Young and Whitten, the three-way harmonies float in behind Young at the chorus and within thirty seconds the hair on your neck’s standing to attention. The recording is loud, upfront and entirely frills-free, which is just what you’d expect from an on-form Horse and with the briefest of pauses we’re into a glorious ‘Winterlong’, with the guitars spangling like the early Byrds, Nitzsche’s celeste-like piano dropping in and out and Whitten’s vocal shadowing Young to perfection. We’re only two songs in and words like ‘bliss’ are already springing readily to mind.
Next up is the first of the two lengthy workouts courtesy of a charged and tumultuous ‘Down By The River.’ Whitten chops out the first fractious chords, Talbot and Molina tumble in and set up a rhythm like a slow fever and Young and Old Black have ample room to solo, which they take full advantage of. Like The Who, though, Crazy Horse were never plotless jammers and the band roll beautifully with the sonic ebb and swell throughout.
The ten minutes or so simply flies by, though there’s a veiled reference to the fact Young has been putting the Horse temporarily out to pasture when he introduces the subsequent ‘Wonderin’’ with a muttered “this is a song from our new album…when we record it.” The tune itself is a gentle, country-rock canter of some repute, though, and it’s caressed beautifully by the band. The inevitable band introductions precede an adrenalised version of Whitten’s ‘Come On Baby, Let’s Go Downtown’ which is pretty much the epitome of the whole ‘tight while sloppy’ thing that Crazy Horse made their own from the off.
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Proceedings close with a truly momentous ‘Cowgirl In The Sand’. If you’re familiar with the ‘Everybody Knows…’ album, you’ll know it stretches to ten minutes in the studio, but this live version (stretching out to a highly-earthed 15 or more) easily betters it, with Young and Whitten playing furiously off each other and Nitzsche finally making himself heard properly. As a rule, I’d often write off such expressions of sonic excess as simply unnecessary bravado, but such is the spirit of total rock’n’roll the Horse could succumb to on nights like this that it’s impossible not to get caught up in the sheer excitement of one of the genre’s finest exponents caught at magnificent full-tilt.
This being an archivally-conscious Neil Young, we also get the mandatory Bernard Shakey-directed DVD of the event as a second disc, but beware: the DVD is simply a montage of still photos from the two nights with the live recording dubbed over the top. I was disappointed at first, though to be fair the sheer rush of the music soon whirls you up again and as a visual spectacle it works well when you’ve acclimatised.
Anyway, to harp on about this too much seems churlish when set against the sonic wonders unearthed from the Young/ Reprise vaults with this splendid live album. ‘Fillmore West’ isn’t as ornery and deranged as ‘Time Fades Away’, as disciplined as ‘Live Rust’ or as extensive and indulgent as ‘Arc/Weld’, but it’s every bit as essential as all three. Go get without further ado.
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