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Neil Diamond Live @ Central Michigan
University 1969
There’s been a lot of smack talked
about Neil Diamond for maybe 30years now -his pretentious delivery; his
overblown bombastic songs; and slick overwrought productions; and his sorry
maudlin appeal to a middle-of the-road bourgeoisie. This seems pretty much true
to me but what the critics do not remember or were too young to witness was
Neil Diamond’s glorious folk rock beginnings - Brill Building meets Dylan…or James
Taylor. Diamond was more of a rocker than a pop singer in those days and his
onstage persona was at once quite exciting and familiar. Hell, when he talked
to the audience it was like servin’ up a dish a goulash in the kitchen, just
real familiar and comfortable. And yet, there was an edge to him that was just
a bit elusive. He seemed a bit socially awkward as if he didn’t quite fit in
with anybody anywhere unless he was onstage. This is where he could unleash his
demons and become something other than the solitary man. He was sensitive and
yet his ill-defined doubts and internal sense of unease seemed to be masked by
his “Neil Diamond” persona. I immediately liked him and I loved his
introspective, personal yet accessible songs. His early songwriting career in
New York was quite remarkable. Like a sponge on a mop, he learned about song
structure, hooks and melody rom some of the best songwriters in the business
such as Goffin & King, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. He had developed a
knack for pop music and scored hits with Jay & The Americans (Sunday &
Me) and the Monkees (I’m a Believer, Love to Love). His music was based in the original
rhythms of the streets in New York. Do wop and pop. These now ancient sounds were gradually
transformed with help from the Beatles, Dave Clark Five and the Rolling Stones and
were essentially co-opted by an industry that favored bottom rung of disposable
artists riding the engine of instant stardom ala American Idol that chugged
along to the tune of a narrowly defined demographic, delivered and discarded in
the ebb and flow of corporate interests. Mediocrity prevailed – as it always
will. It’s the American way. Yet our dear rock ‘n roll was ultimately bought
and sold out and it natural energy and spontaneity – its very soul - was all
but lost in the mix. Perhaps this is the true story of Neil Diamond. But in
1969, Diamond’s worst tendencies were only a whisper and his talent shouted out
from the stage and millions of us took notice. His band was a small
4-piece. Neil played rhythm guitar with
Randy Sterling was on bass and Eddie Rubin on drums. The guitarist Carol Hunter
was the standout. She had a cool sexy stage presence and Diamond mugged and
schmoozed with her throughout the ninety minute show. Not only was she
beautiful, she was also an excellent guitarist and a great singer. She used a
solid body Fender 12-string and picked it like George Harrison. In fact before
working with Diamond, she made a name for herself in the New York club scene as
a highly regarded top notch musician. It was highly unusual for a woman at that
time to have such a prominent role as a guitarist. She was HOT and in demand.
During this concert the interplay between Diamond and Hunter was equally as
hot. Diamond introduced her, saying she was not just a great guitarist but she
was “soft...and uh…warm…mmm…so warm…and soft…ahem”. He also mentioned something
about getting in the back seat of the car. Yep, ‘ol Neil was a huge flirt. The
music was exceptional. The opener Song for the Asking (by Simon & Garfunkel)
segued into Lordy, Diamond’s most rockin’ song ever. Led by Hunter’s
incredible12-string attack, this song proved to be the sleeper hit of the
entire show. Diamond played all of his hits and a few covers such as Joni
Mitchell’s Both Sides Now. Diamond said that Mitchell was one of his favorite
singer/songwriters and that he loved her poetic lyricism and her lovely
cantilevered ass. Solitary Man was followed by Holly Holy. Diamond introduced
Cherry Cherry by stating that he didn’t sing “cherry” once during the course of
the song. I believed him and when I told my girlfriend and anyone else who
cared to listen about the show I told them that Diamond never sang the word
“cherry” during the song. Cherry Cherry?” She asked with a twisted grin on her
mug, “Well, what did he sing.” I said, “I...ah..um – I don’t know but it wasn’t
Cherry Cherry. She could only shake her head and smile. One by one each of his
little Brill Building nuggets took on a new life in the rockin’ arrangements of
this little four piece ensemble; Sweet Caroline Kentucky Woman, Thank the Lord
For The Nighttime. Hunter’s exquisite background vocals add additional punch to
Diamond’s sometimes wavering intonations. He is a great vocalist but not much
of a singer. Diamond did a few album cuts such as the country-tinged satire, You’re
So Sweet (Horseflies Keep Hanging Round Your Face), And the Grass Won’t Pay No
Mind and Diamond’s personal favorite, The Singer Sang His Song. Diamond had
great difficulty hitting the notes and holding pitch. Throughout the performance Diamond told stories
about his songs, the early country influences, hearing Solitary Man on the
radio for the very first time, and even making mild anti-war comments. The show closed with the stripped down
gospel-rocker Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show. I left feeling as if I
witnessed a first-hand account of a humble genius at work, creating great music
and putting together an incredibly tight four-piece band that could re-interpret
his songs. My God, I thought, it doesn’t get any better than this. And for several
years, I was a confirmed Neil Diamond fan. I bought all of his albums and
attended shows in1971 and 1972. But something had changed. The band was getting
increasingly bigger, more proficient, but not better. The arrangements were
slick and more polished but that down home intimate in the-kitchen vibe was
disappearing and Diamond’s singing was becoming almost melodramatic. His voice
no longer creaked and cracked, it bellowed as his phrasing became pretentious
and operatic - he held notes longer in the chorus but he began talking through
the verses. I would have never guessed that Diamond’s musical metamorphosis
would take him to a creative nadir with the Jazz Singer and Jonathan Livingston
Seagull. It was curious to me that his adoring fans would accept this bombast
hook, line and sinker. But I remember Neil Diamond in 1969.
And he was glorious!
Peace,
Bo White
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