Although they recorded but three albums, Buffalo Springfield was one of the most influential rock bands of the 60s. This Fall, surviving Buffalo Springfield members Neil Young, Stephen Stills, and Richie Furay are reuniting to perform at Young’s annual Bridge School benefit concerts on October 23rd and 24th in Mountain View, California.
Furay told Rolling Stone that got he a text message from Young that read, “Call me.”
“I called and he asked me if I’d be up for a reunion at the Bridge School Benefit,” Furay says. “He said, ‘If you’re into it, I think Stephen [Stills] will be into it.’ The three of us then arranged a conference call, chit-chatted for a few minutes, and planned it all out. The last time I was onstage with them was the last Buffalo Springfield show at the Long Beach Arena back in 1968. Our lives have gone in different directions and I wouldn’t say that we’re close friends, but we’re friends and its an opportunity for us to get together again for a good cause. I’m very excited.”
Rick Rosas (from Neil Young’s band) will sit in for the late Bruce Palmer, with CSN drummer Joe Vitale filling in for Dewey Martin who died in 2009.
Below, David Crosby performs in stead for an MIA Neil Young as Buffalo Springfield sing their million-selling single, “For What It’s Worth” at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967. Introduced by Peter Tork of the Monkees.
I really like these hand-painted vinyl records from artist Daniel Edlen. According to his web site, Daniel also does drawings of authors on their books. I’m partial to the Zappa, natch.
While I agree with most of what Jarmusch has to say in the above quote, I question whether or not originality is non-existent. You may be inspired by or steal from other sources, but ultimately what you create - from whatever you got from wherever you got it - is your own original creation no matter that it’s composed of received elements. If nothing else, the energy originates from you and therefore is original. If originality is dead then aren’t we all? If originality is dead then what drives art? Has the shock of the new turned into a recycled thud?
Here’s a fascinating look into the process Jarmusch went through making the soundtracks for Dead Man with Neil Young and Ghost Dog with RZA. All three artists seem to enjoy working in the moment, improvising and spontaneity, and I find the results quite original.
Neil Young Archives, Vol. 1: 1963-1972 on Blu-ray is truly the most impressive hunk of pop culture multi-media I’ve ever seen. A massive and hefty THING, it forever raises the bar for rock gods with deep catalogs and treasure troves of unreleased rarities. Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Led Zeppelin and Prince pay attention, because from now on Archives is the box set by which the others will be judged for some time. It’s an entirely new way of providing deep fan access to an important recording artist’s life’s work, more a multi-media autobiography than mere box set. The user interface forces you to really contemplate Neil Young as you poke around and you become deeply immersed in all things Neil as a result. Obviously that’s the goal and Archives absolutely succeeds on that level.
Young’s attention to audio fidelity is legendary—some of his classic 70s albums have never come out on CD due to his dislike of the way they sounded—and the 24bit/192 KHZ PCM audio possible with the BD format showcases his music as never before. There are some very, very high fidelity audio discs out there, but none of them sound as good as the material on Archives. It is as if one was present in the actual studio (or audience) when the performances were recorded. High quality transfers were made directly from the original analog tapes—or at least with the shortest signal path possible—and it shows. FM radio classics like Cinnamon Girl and The Loner have never sounded better, but on the more intimate folkie material covered in the set, the audiophile qualities of the BD format really shines. The size of the room the songs were recorded in, the space around the voice and guitar, the buzzing vibrations of a single guitar string—all of this is quite audible on Archives. The sound quality is magnificent. I’ll say it again, I’ve never heard better. For sound quality alone it would win the gold medal, but that’s not the half of it. There are a gazillion nooks and crannies on the set.
In terms of the extras, a mass-produced facsimile of a hand-carved leather-covered 237 page color scrapbook is loaded with such amusing ephemera as one of his sports writer father’s columns about then 11-year old Neil’s “chicken business” and contracts Young’s mother signed on behalf of her minor son so he would be paid BMI royalties on his Buffalo Springfield compositions. The cover letter tells Mrs. Young that she should “be very proud of your son. He is not only talented but a young gentleman.” Young’s parents must have kept every notebook and scrap of paper he ever wrote on. Young’s father was convinced of his son’s genius at a young age. I loved reading his account of seeing his son perform in Carnegie Hall in the early 70s and how proud he was. (Hell, I’d be proud if I was Neil Young’s father, wouldn’t you be?). There are scads of handwritten lyrics and reviews cut from endless magazines and newspapers. In terms of the books one usually finds in a major artist box set, this one also goes right to the head of the class. I’ve never seen another even half as good. All in all the packaging is attractive (if not necessarily that durable) and it’s a gorgeous thing to unwrap. It’s a shoe-in for several Grammy awards (not that anyone cares, but still…)
There are 128 tracks, nearly 60 of them never heard before spread across the ten discs. The old metal file cabinet user interface is nothing that innovative, but it’s probably the most appropriate considering the depth and archival purpose of the set. There is a nice looking “timeline” that displays photos, video clips and hidden tracks along the way. The set contains the first release of Young’s 1973 documentary Journey Through The Past and twenty video clips. Some of them are totally wonderful (like Young walking out of a record store with bootlegs of his music, the mind-blowing CSNY live performance, an appearance on The Johnny Cash Show and a 1970 performance at the Finjan Folk Cafe) but this is where my first problem with Archives comes in. The video content, whilst containing several gems, isn’t nearly enough. Not enough to justify the price, the fan expectations and not nearly enough to satisfy the wide open spaces of the storage available on Blu-ray (couldn’t most of this material fit on like TWO Blu-ray disc?). Where, for instance is the amazing BBC “In Concert” performance from 1971 or more of the CSNY performance?
My biggest problem with Archives, though, is not what is or isn’t on the set (Blu-ray owners will get updates from Blue-ray Live as long as their players are hooked up to the Internet, so Young could always add things later as he pleases) rather it’s the list price. This is where I become deeply ambivalent about Archives.
With all the name-brand dying going on these days, I thought I’d mention the passing of someone less well-known who probably touched many of us more deeply and intimately than, oh, Walter Cronkite. Tom Wilkes, celebrated album cover designer for The Rolling Stones, George Harrison and The Who died recently, in, of all places, Pioneertown, California. Beyond Beggars Banquet, though, Wilkes was wildly talented, wonderfully prolific. For a good taste of it all, including his artwork for Monterey Pop, click the link below:
