In Praise of Rock Extremism : After a decade of puzzling musical sidesteps, Neil Young rebounds with 1989’s most acclaimed album

“Bobby Darin!”

Neil Young looked quickly for his passenger’s reaction as he maneuvered his prized white ’57 Cadillac Eldorado convertible along a favorite, tree-lined road in the Santa Cruz mountains.

This sometimes elusive rock maverick knew that his mention of Darin--in answer to a question about which early rock mavericks he most identified with--would catch the reporter by surprise.

Though Darin, who died in 1973, will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on Jan. 17, he was terribly under-rated for years by the rock community because he turned in his rock ‘n’ roll shoes for a tuxedo in 1959 and went off in pursuit of a Sinatra-like pop stardom.

Given Young’s reputation for sly humor, it was hard to know if he was kidding by citing Darin. The dark glasses he was wearing kept his eyes from offering any clue.

‘I’m serious,” he finally said.

“Bob Dylan was always a model, but Darin was really an extremist,” he continued. “That guy went through more changes than anybody. Think of the swing from ‘Queen of the Hop’ to ‘Mack the Knife.’ That was off the wall completely, but he managed to make two classics. It was like he was two different people.”

The endorsement of Darin makes sense because Young, too, has caused fans to scratch their heads at his own changes. He has made such radical shifts in style that he has sometimes seemed to be four people.

But what about his Darin appreciation? Did he see the excellence in Darin’s work in the early ‘60s or was he as puzzled by Darin’s changes as many of Young’s fans have been by his movements in the ‘80s?

Young paused.

“I’d like to say I saw what was going on with Darin back then, but it’s not the case,” he said, a touch sheepishly. “When ‘Mack the Knife’ came out, I thought he had lost his mind. So I understand it when people think I’ve lost my mind too.”

He chuckled as the car picked up speed on the two-lane road.

Despite a longstanding reputation as one of rock’s most restless figures, Young has lived on a 2,000-acre ranch in this area--about an hour’s drive south of San Francisco--for almost half of his 44 years.

It’s in this lovely, largely isolated region--at the ranch and on these lonely mountain roads--that he has written dozens of the deeply introspective songs that have made him second only to Dylan as the most consistently challenging of the still-active rock singer-songwriters to emerge in the ‘60s.

“There is a side of me that is always restless and it’s probably something I feel more than ever because there is so much to do and there is less time to do it than there was yesterday,” he said.

“So, I do like to be on the move a lot, but I love it so much here . . . my ranch, my family, the whole thing. It’s important to have a home base--and this is mine.”

Like Dylan, Young is a man of constant change--someone who once, too, relentlessly avoided interviews and who alienated fans by such dramatic changes of musical style.

It’s not just that Young walked away from such admired groups as the Buffalo Springfield and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young to start a solo career, but that he stepped away from the highly successful solo path that had produced two widely acclaimed Top 10 albums--1970’s “After the Gold Rush” and 1972’s “Harvest.”

Rather than repeat the richly accessible and evocative textures of those carefully crafted albums, he began moving toward a more radical, experimental rock posture--highlighted by “Tonight’s the Night.”

That brilliant 1975 statement of disillusionment was so dark and intense that radio programmers rejected it and even Young found it difficult emotionally to later perform the songs in concert. Though shifts like “Tonight’s the Night” cost Young sales, he remained a critical favorite throughout the ‘70s.

By the ‘80s, however, even critics began wondering just what was going on. His new musical directions were often as extreme as “Tonight’s the Night,” but the results weren’t always as clearly gripping. Some observers even suggested that a contempt for the music business was behind the changes of directions that were sometimes so severe they bordered on perverse: a techno-pop album, then a rockabilly collection, then some country tunes.

While outsiders shook their head in disbelief, Young simply insisted that the shifts were an essential part of the creative process for him. He had to pursue his artistic instincts. Eventually, he said, he and his audience would reunite.

And, true to his words, he has rebounded this year with an album, “Freedom,” that recalls the gracefulness and insights of the most prized ‘70s material. Not surprisingly, the Reprise Records work is shaping up as the most acclaimed album of 1989.

It hasn’t caught on with the public yet (it peaked at No. 35 on the Billboard charts) because radio play has been minimal, even on rock stations that once championed Young.

One reason may be that much of the pop-rock community has become so skeptical of Young that even the glowing reviews aren’t enough to make them buy his album.

Radio is a touchy point with Young.

“I hate all this (nonsense) about radio formats,” he said, sharply. “If something doesn’t fit a station’s image or sound, then it doesn’t get played. And there are certain stations that won’t play me, regardless of what the record is like. They don’t want to play music that their parents listened to because it doesn’t fit their image.

“So, I am boxed in with these classic rock artists, which is really sickening--to have worked all this time and be boxed in like that . . . and cut off of alternative radio and college radio, just because I’ve lasted so long.”

The radio outburst aside, Young seemed especially comfortable as the old Cadillac purred along the winding road--maybe even a tad amused that the pop world has suddenly began heralding him again.

“A lot of people seem to think I made a lot of those records as a joke or something--just to be different,” Young said. “But the truth is you go where the music takes you. I never wanted to lose public favor or critical acclaim. I always would like that, but it’s purely coincidental when it comes. I live each album while I’m doing it.

“I’m kind of like a bad friend, I guess, because I’m into one thing so much that you think, ‘Oh, this guy is committed to this for life,’ but then I’m gone and I’m into something else the same way.

Young’s new album, which offers many of the classic Young strains, is the only new studio release this year to get maximum, five-star ratings from both Rolling Stone and England’s highly regarded Q magazine. Even the Village Voice’s stingy Robert Christgau gave the album an unqualified A grade.

Though frequently described as a “political” album, “Freedom” is about the search for fulfillment and integrity in both personal and social settings.

“Rockin’ in the Free World,” which opens and closes the album, looks at the irony between the promises of “freedom” and the casualties of human indifference. Sample lyrics:

There’s colors on the street

Red, white and blue

People shufflin’ their feet

People sleepin’ in their shoes

But there’s a warnin’ sign on the road ahead

There’s a lot of people sayin’

We’d be better off dead.

Don’t feel like Satan

But I am to them

So I try to forget it, any way I can.

In “Hangin’ on a Limb,” he looks at the issues of commitment in relationships:

When the melody

Through the window called

It echoed in the courtyard

And whispered in the halls

He played it through the night

She knew he had to go

There was something about freedom

He thought he didn’t know.

Ironically, in view of the hail of applause, “Freedom” wasn’t the album that Young had planned to release. He came within days of releasing another album--a much harder-edged collection titled “Eldorado” (which has been released in Japan).

“I had turned it into the record company and it was all ready to go when I realized that the album wouldn’t have had a chance,” he said. “People were so used to getting ‘surprises’ from me that if I put out this real heavy kind of speed-metal album, they would just say, ‘Oh, there’s crazy Neil, just doing something strange again.’ They wouldn’t see the album for what it was. They’d just stop at the style.”

So he stopped Warner Bros. Records from releasing the album, returning instead to the studio to record some other tunes. He ended up with 32 tracks, representing both new songs and a few that had been written years ago but left off earlier albums because they didn’t fit the mood of the albums.

The key song in bringing the “Freedom” album’s theme together, he said, was “Rockin’ in the Free World.”

“There’s a lot to be discouraged about in the world today, but it’s hard not to be hopeful, too, because of all that is happening,” he said. “Who ever believed all this would happen in Eastern Europe? I’m going to do some acoustic shows in Europe soon, and I can’t wait to get over there and see it up close.”

The reporter had assumed when Young picked him up at a restaurant just outside of Woodside that they were headed to Young’s ranch, but Young just kept driving. He did stop at a beach just south of Half Moon Bay for the photographer to take some pictures, but then he returned to the mountain roads, stopping only for a sandwich at a rural market where he has a running tab.

It was clear Young preferred talking in the comfort of his car and the road. The questions dealt with the affect of outside influences on the creative process.

“Generally, you ignore positive criticism because it’s usually not constructive,” he said, matter of factly. “It tells you that you are doing a good job, which you already feel or you wouldn’t be doing it. Sometimes a negative review will get you though. Certain things stick with you, especially nagging little things.”

Turning to his passenger, he said. “I remember something you wrote at a concert I did in 1976. You thought the show was too short. And I was going to send you a gold watch, from me to you, so that you could time my next appearance, if you thought time was so important.”

Young smiled at the admission.

In defense, the reporter said the point of the review was that the concert was Young’s first appearance in Los Angeles since the “Tonight’s the Night” album had been released and that Young didn’t do any songs from the album. The complaint was that Young could have extended the 95-minute show to include some of the “Tonight’s the Night” material.

“But time had nothing to do with it,” he said, without hesitation. “I couldn’t do those songs. That’s the point. People try to look at concerts in all sorts of ways . . . how long it lasts, why you didn’t do that song or that one. What they don’t understand is that you don’t always have the freedom to do anything and there’s no reason why you should even if you can.

“A performer should be aware of the audience but he can’t let the audience dictate what he should do. That (1976 show) was representative of me that night. I couldn’t have done the ‘Tonight’s the Night’ album then because it was a group of songs from a particular time . . . a certain character.

“You don’t always feel that character. Look at the cover and you see that person. That wasn’t the same person you saw on ‘After the Gold Rush’ or ‘Harvest.’ You change.”

Young is working on a mammoth, 25th-anniversary retrospective album that will contain his best-known numbers, some personal favorites and lots of the dozens of recordings that have never been released. It’s due late next year.

How about the impact of sales on his musical direction?

“I hope to win every time out, but if I don’t, it doesn’t matter. I’ve had enough success. I never really kept track of it, except generally, but now I have a computer program and I can check it out . . . see graphs, see progress, see what’s happening. But it’s mostly (an excuse) to use the computer because I’m interested in graphs and computers. The sales don’t affect what I’m going to do next.”

Young went through some personal trials in the ‘80s. He experienced post-polio syndrome a few years ago that was so severe he couldn’t even pick up the guitar with his hand. He subsequently entered a vigorous program of physical therapy to regain strength in his arms.

He has also complained over the years of strained relations with Geffen Records, which he left in 1988 for Warner Bros., where he started his solo career in 1969. Young and his wife, Pegi,, have helped initiate an educational program in the Bay Area, inspired largely by their experience in raising two children with cerebral palsy.

What about the effect of his personal life on his work?

Without going into specifics, he simply noted, “Yeah. Well, that’s a big subject. That’s everything. Critics, sales . . . that’s nothing compared to the things in your life.”

Young and his white Caddy must be familiar to local residents because two men in the market nodded and a young hitch-hiker on the road later waved as the car passed by. Young honked in return at the hitch-hiker.

The conversation wandered back to the days when Young was in Los Angeles, down from Canada in hopes of fulfilling his rock ‘n’ roll dreams.

Young smiled for a second at the image of him all those years ago.

“I think naivete and luck got him through,” he said.

“There was also the ambition and all the other stuff, but a lot of people have that,” he added, staring at the road ahead. “You can’t discount the luck--like running into Stephen Stills when I was leaving to go to San Francisco.

“I had been in L.A. a week with (bassist) Bruce Palmer and we were going to San Francisco, but we ran into Stephen in traffic and we started Buffalo Springfield. Maybe the road’s always been lucky for me.”