RUST NEVER SLEEPS

Rip It Up, Issue 36, 1 July 1980, Page 14

RUST NEVER SLEEPS

Duncan Campbell

When asked recently in a rare interview what it was like at the top, Neil Young replied: "When I get there, I'll drop a line." Young is a collection of paradoxes. He's never courted stardom and often openly ridicules it, yet he’s the stuff legends are made of. He’s an incurable cynic, but can still sing a line like "Hey, hey, my, my, rock n’ roll will never die", without sounding naive. (I've argued that particular line with several people who say it's tongue in cheek. I maintain it’s sincere, saying the music will outlast those who make it. History is on my side.) Neil Young has become a winner at the art of losing Music has cost him several friends, his health and a couple of marriages. Yet he keeps on keeping on. Young knows full well the dangers of being complacent He only needs to look at his former colleagues, Grumpy, Sneezy and Dopey, I mean, Steve, Graham and David. He could have continued re-writing Harvest the rest of his days and become the darling of the biodegradable set. Instead, in his own words, he left the middle of the road and veered towards the ditch, where the people were more interesting. Essential Danger

Young is the man walking along the edge of a cliff, or sitting on a window ledge and wondering whether to jump. It’s the hint of danger that he thrives on, even though it threatens to kill him. Maybe it will yet. All that is certain is that he's at his best when frightened, angry or distressed. Witness "Tonight’s The Night”, his harrowing evocation of his dead junkie friends, Danny Whitten and Bruce Berry. Far more effective than the twee "Needle And The Damage Done". Young's recorded output has always been erratic because of the intensely personal nature of his songs and his private traumas. But just lately, he seems to have come to terms with himself. His anguish, from which he drives his strength, is undiminished. But he seems now to be able to view people and events more objectively, and with humour. A sense of humour pervades his soon-to-be-released movie, Rust Never Sleeps. Long held up for lack of a distributor, it's Young's second venture into films. His first, Journey Through The Past, was a self-indulgent montage, filled with imagery sigificant only to the man himself. It bombed.

Rust, however, is totally without pretension. It is simply an excellent in-concert film, capturing the essence of a great gig, screwups and all, with a little window dressing that reflects Young's taste for the ludicrous. Thus behind the band are huge mockups of Fender amps, stemming from an idea Young had in rehearsal one day. Crazy Horse use very small amps, though you wouldn’t know from the fullness of their stage sound. Yet to Young it looked like a pile of junk. So why not show it up for whaf it is? The trappings of stardom.

“ Roadeyes ” The roadies, or “Roadeyes” as they're known in the film, are robed, red-eyed copies of the Jawas, little gnome-like creatures who collected space junk in Star Wars. Another great American institution. Young was left out of the Woodstock film, so he uses the soundtrack during intermissions on stage. Ten years after, and does anyone really care what happened there now? Certainly not Neil Young. The first part of the film is introspective as Young, perched atop one of the huge fake amps, strums his way through a solo acoustic set that includes the nostalgia of “Sugar Moun-

tain” and "I Am A Child.” He seems nervous and detached, unaware of the audience, playing to himself as he wanders the stage, recreating the old image of the strolling troubador. The rest is pure electricity, as Young is joined by Crazy .Horse (Frank Sampedro, Billy Talbot and Ralph Molina) and tears • into a breathtaking "When You Dance I Can Really Love.” If you have Live Rust you'll known what else follows (only “Tonight's The Night” is omitted). Crazy Horse could never be called an elegant, or technically brilliant band, but their muddy, distorted sound ' matches Young’s shambling onstage, persona. He wouldn’t look or sound right with any other band. In their own way, they are superb. Young has always had a casual approach towards his work, and Rust Never Sleeps is no exception. Like The Last Waltz, the film has a grainy quality, even though thousands were

spent on lighting the venue. But who wants studio conditions anyway? It's atmosphere we’re after, and on that score, Rust knocks The Last Waltz into a cocked hat. The sound balance is a trifle awry, despite later attempts to tidy it up with studio overdubs. Shakey Direction Young directed the film himself under the pseudonym of Bernard Shakey. He now has his own studios for editing films and doing soundtracks, but what he'll do next, only he knows. He never bothers to tell anyone, and was last heard of aboard a yacht adrift in the Pacific. He'll doubtless re-emerge sometime, but it’s likely he's already forgotten about Rust Never Sleeps. He keeps looking ahead, even though he does take time to put his thoughts into actions.

Neil Young has made many transitions in his career. He remains an essentially private per-

son, and Rust Never Sleeps gives little new insight into the man behind the cult. That's not his intention. Rust Never Sleeps celebrates Young’s enormous contribution to contemporary music. Some may be distracted by the bizarre visuals onstage. Young has been accused of belittling his music with this approach, but as he says, it’s those who take themselves too seriously who are the first to go rusty. Neil Young may well burn out before he reaches what he considers to be the top. Even so, the wealth of his talent will have touched many. Rust Never Sleeps is all the proof you need. There was a band playin' in my head and I felt like gettln' high... (“After The Goldrush”)