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Rating: The hangover from the success, which happened in the early 70s, the caravan of the Country Rock of Harvest.
Year 1974, something is wrong in Neil Young's head, the schizophrenia of post-success depression... another show, another triumph among the audience, then he awaits yet another radio interview, Neil enters the booth and sits down alone in front of the microphone, and feels something dark, he feels alone, there in front of that microphone, he wishes he were elsewhere, out of that city that crushes consciences, he feels trapped, he senses that the Hippie dreams of civil and libertine coexistence are forever shattered, right while he was singing Harvest, what does Neil do, he leaves the radio station and retreats to the beach, an umbrella, and an atomic bomb fallen from the sky to keep him company, this beach seems more like a psychiatric institute, among the grooves of the album the introspection reaches a post-psychiatric operation stasis, just a hint of anger with the sinister blows of "Revolution Blues" where Neil for a moment abandons his quiet despair screaming to the four winds like a wolf on a full moon night his contempt for what America post 68 has become, he would like to massacre all the Hollywood stars aboard their luxurious cars, he would like to be Charles Manson for a day...
The rest of the album is a comatose coming and going, impossible to describe the abysmal layers of mind reached in the Title Track, sparse electric arpeggios, a bass holding up the structure, listen to believe... also magnificent "See the Sky About To Rain" with the organ painting whorls in the air, there's a lot of Blues, Blues escaped from the road massacres, Beach Blues, Motion Picture, the spiritual retreat, and closes with "Ambulance Blues", a grainy dream on the sunset of all perspectives, 9 apocalyptic minutes of voice and guitar with inlays of viola and organ to sublimate the prophesying of this apocalypse of our illusions.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
04 For the Turnstiles (03:15)
All the sailors with their seasick mamas
Hear the sirens on the shore,
Singin' songs for pimps with tailors
Who charge ten dollars at the door.
You can really learn a lot that way
It will change you in the middle of the day.
Though your confidence may be shattered,
It doesn't matter.
All the great explorers
Are now in granite laid, (in Granite Lake?)
Under white sheets for the great unveiling
At the big parade.
You can really learn a lot that way
It will change you in the middle of the day.
Though your confidence may be shattered,
It doesn't matter.
All the bushleague batters
Are left to die on the diamond.
In the stands the home crowd scatters
For the turnstiles,
For the turnstiles,
For the turnstiles.
06 On the Beach (06:59)
The world is turnin', I hope it don't turn away,
The world is turnin', I hope it don't turn away.
All my pictures are fallin' from the wall where I placed them yesterday.
The world is turnin', I hope it don't turn away.
I need a crowd of people, but I can't face them day to day,
I need a crowd of people, but I can't face them day to day.
Though my problems are meaningless, that don't make them go away.
I need a crowd of people, but I can't face them day to day.
I went to the radio interview, but I ended up alone at the microphone,
I went to the radio interview, but I ended up alone at the microphone.
Now I'm livin' out here on the beach, but those seagulls are still out of reach.
I went to the radio interview, but I ended up alone at the microphone.
Get out of town, think I'll get out of town,
Get out of town, think I'll get out of town.
I head for the sticks with my bus and friends,
I follow the road, though I don't know where it ends.
Get out of town, get out of town, think I'll get out of town.
'Cause the world is turnin', I don't want to see it turn away.
07 Motion Pictures (04:23)
Motion pictures on my TV screen,
A home away from home, livin' in between
But I hear some people have got their dream.
I've got mine.
I hear the mountains are doin' fine,
Mornin' glory is on the vine,
And the dew is fallin', the ducks are callin'.
Yes, I've got mine.
Well, all those people, they think they got it made
But I wouldn't buy, sell, borrow or trade
Anything I have to be like one of them.
I'd rather start all over again.
Well, all those headlines, they just bore me now
I'm deep inside myself, but I'll get out somehow,
And I'll stand before you, and I'll bring a smile to your eyes.
Motion pictures, motion pictures.
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Other reviews
By donjunio
"On the Beach is Neil Young's masterpiece: the work in which the threads of his aesthetics magically converge, through an astonishing sonic alchemy."
"The track is simply perfect: the Band’s rhythm section provides a monstrous funky groove, David Crosby on rhythm guitar supports a Neil intent on crafting precise and devastating solos like cuts without resorting to feedback."
By luludia
On a spectral tremor of sound, melancholy insinuates itself under the skin and a pale light passes through the glass.
Throw all your ghosts into the fire and watch the flames go out like the music that never fades away.
