Neil Young – Waging Heavy Peace

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As a songwriter whose previous stab at extended storytelling – 2003 album Greendale – was disjointed to the point where its author was probably just as baffled as the average listener as to what was happening and why, Neil Young seems an unlikely candidate to pen an autobiography.

Then again, writing runs deep in the Young family. Young Neil (see what I did there) used to observe his dad Scott Young – author of dozens of books – at work, thus picking up the basics of a writer’s craft. Unfortunately, the importance of structure may have been overlooked during this osmosis. Hopping erratically between eras and moods, Waging Heavy Peace can’t seem to decide whether it’s a conventional memoir, a selection of random diary entries, a thank you letter to various collaborators, or, on the countless occasions when the inferior audio quality of MP3s is mentioned, a repetitive rant.

Applying the same first-take freshness that has fired much of Young’s finest music to writing a book creates mixed results. There are beautifully crafted chapters, told in plain, unpretentious prose that resembles the deceptive simplicity Young’s best songwriting. The stuff about Young’s early career in Canada and hippie-era Los Angeles is vividly told. Young’s family and memories of the 66-year old songwriter’s late key collaborators – including multi-instrumentalist Ben Keith and producer David Briggs – feature prominently. We get gripping glimpses into Young’s creative process, most notably a hazy recollection of the dope-addled recording of ‘Will to Love’, the kind of obscure gem that turns Neil Young fans into fanatics.

Other bits read like they took less time to write than they do to read. At one point, Young hops inexplicably from a riveting yarn about the early days of Crazy Horse – who feature regularly and clearly inspire Young as much as a writer as a musician – to an indescribably mundane description of a shopping trip. Young’s non-musical interests – toy trains, cars, audio quality – get near-equal billing with music, although the latter is obviously what the readers are here for.

Then again, if the job of an autobiography is to reflect its author, Waging Heavy Peace fits the bill perfectly. Young’s entire 40-odd year musical career has been balanced precariously between the sublime and the stubbornly idiosyncratic, based around an unwavering ethos of never caving in to audience expectations that’s maintained Young’s status as a relevant and surprising artist long after most of his colleagues have faded into insignificance. As such, it’s only fitting that his first outing as an author follows a similarly expectation-defying template. Anyone who’s here for cocaine-encrusted rock ‘n’ roll debauchery from the mega-stardom days of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – the stuff that rock memoir conventions call for – is out of luck. Newly sober, Young’s interested in the here and now and that, for the most part, is what we get.

Much like the mammoth guitar solos Young is in the habit of unleashing when accompanied by Crazy Horse, Waging Heavy Peace is simultaneously terrifyingly self-indulgent and irresistibly compelling, just as likely to get stuck on the same riff for what feels like an eternity as it is to dispatch moments of startling beauty. Fans of Neil Young will know better than to expect a smooth ride, and will lap this up. Casual observers should most likely approach with caution.