ALBUM REVIEWS
Neil Young Hitchhiker (Reprise Records)
In 1976, Neil Young walked into a Malibu recording studio, his acoustic guitar and harmonica, and laid down a bunch of tracks in a single session. They sat unreleased for more than 40 years until now.
Dubbed Hitchhiker, the 10-track archival release is a treasure trove for Young fans with two previously unreleased songs and intimate renditions of some of his best loved tunes.
One of those, Powderfinger, takes on a more haunting tone than when it was officially released in 1979 with the full force and weight of Crazy Horse’s electric mayhem behind it.
Two other songs that later showed up on 1979’s Rust Never Sleeps get an early run-through here: Ride My Llama and Pocahontas.
No studio versions of Hawaii or Give Me Strength — a standout on Hitchhiker Young has occasionally performed live — have made it out of the vault before.
It was worth the wait.
Gregg Allman Southern Blood (Rounder)
Farewell albums from musicians who know they are dying have become a thing. And Gregg Allman’s just might be the best of them.
“I hope you’re haunted by the music of my soul when I’m gone,” he sings on My Only True Friend, the only song he had a hand in writing. The lyric feels too literal, but soon the singing and playing that made Allman great transcend any maudlin tendencies.
With Southern Blood, Allman serves notice one last time he earned his place among the few white singers who could belt the blues from within.
On Jackson Browne’s Song for Adam, Allman chokes singing, “It still seems that he stopped singing in the middle of his song.” He may have been thinking about his brother Duane, who at 24, died too soon or he could have been singing an elegy for his own fate — a singer who still had plenty to give.
The National
Sleep Well Beast (4AD)
Few bands have soared higher or set themselves apart more than The National. With Sleep Well Beast, the band’s seventh studio album and first in four years, The National revives the distinctiveness that led it to the forefront of 21st century arena rock bands.
Pulsating bass and drums set a forward-leaning foundation for the band’s polished guitarkeyboard mix.
Together they convey urgency, transporting listeners through mostly dark lyrics past a sonic backdrop that offers hope mainly because it’s on its way somewhere. What takes the band higher is Matt Berninger’s charisma.
Not since Bryan Ferry’s heyday has a singer stepped so vividly from the pages of a Raymond Chandler story.
Time will tell if The National belongs among rock’s legends — true believers won’t be disappointed in the meantime.