Festival Review: Neil Young At British Summer Time
May Neil and company long keep rockin’ in the free world for as long as he wants to and his body allows him.
This past Friday in Hyde Park offered a true old-school atmosphere of peace and love -- both from the music being played and the energy of London’s friendliest boomers gathered to witness truly excellent musicianship.
While smaller acts like Amble, Our Man in the Field, and Naima Bock all put on serviceable showings around the park, the main stage featured enough legendary talent to satisfy any music lover staying put by Hyde Park’s magnificent great oaks.
Van Morrison kicked things off with a soft-spoken, refined set which opened on “Into the Mystic” and, while never quite playing a song as well-known throughout the set, still displayed the Belfast musician’s excellent craft. His brilliant songwriting and continued skill was shown in the penultimate “Summertime on England”, which felt quite apt as the late afternoon rays called for sunscreen re-applications and a sweltering joy only a Friday night in July can provide.
If the heat and relaxed atmosphere was tiring any attendees out early, the excited atmosphere Yusuf Islam (fka Cat Stevens) quickly awakened them. Yusuf radiated positive energy, in an adorable vest and brilliant smile -- reminding us how captivating and obvious the tenets of the hippie movement are when delivered by someone so sincere and affable. He did not shy away from remembering the Srebrenica Massacre 30 years on and likening it to the atrocities in Palestine today, but kept the messaging positive in reminding us to use our voice and celebrate the love in our lives, all while breaking out classics like “Miles From Nowhere” for the first time in nearly a decade.
He and his bandmates were joyous throughout the set, breaking out into extended jam sessions until he realised several songs from the end that he was fast approaching his allotted time slot. After cheekily asking the crowd if they wanted him to go over the limit and play two more songs, to rapturous confirmation, he advised that if he got cut off “the revolution starts now” and that Mr. Young would just have to start a bit later. Subsequently closing on an inspired run from “Wild World” to “Peace Train”, the day could have ended right there and still been a success.
Yet, the highlight of the night was yet to come and everyone knew it as they giddily strolled around the ornate stalls of Hyde Park in anticipation. These stalls included a surprisingly tasteful model European village and a ridiculously good Lidl box + drink deal to satisfy the British desire for picky bits in the scorching sun.
Unfortunately, those picky bits could not be consumed with any degree of closeness to the main stage without VIP circle tickets. While it is understandable to include a private section for those willing to pay higher prices, it was certainly disappointing to find the typically public area carefully cordoned off and not particularly crowded. Yet, if this bothered the outspoken Young, it was not evident. From the opening notes of “Ambulance Blues” onwards, we were treated to a vintage performance, even if the majority of patrons could not make out anything but vague shapes beside the TV screens.
The absurd longevity Young, at nearly 80 years old, has maintained is immediately evident as he begins. Always a blunt man in every aspect and never one to hide his frustrations, he’s conducted a principled life with as little hypocrisy as one can manage. This lends him a rare credibility to repeat simplistic lyrical platitudes about “sav[ing] Mother Earth”, early on without ever sounding trite. Similarly, never being a technical singer or a particularly virtuosic guitar player, effectively means one can hear him play “Cowgirl in the Sand”, some 56 years after he wrote it and get a similar experience to him playing it in 1969 if he’s in a good mood that night.
And a good mood he was certainly in, playing to a crowd of adoring fans, young and old (though mostly old), overwhelmingly excited and remarkably polite. Through the air of old Thai stick being dusted off for the special occasion, one could feel a palpably positive energy -- perhaps the best I’ve ever experienced at an outdoor concert in London. Young surely picked up on it, sporting a rare smile for most of the show and not grumbling once. Rather, he used his few words to the audience to consistently praise how happy he was to be there and urging everyone to take care of one another.
While his first hour was magnificent, the show truly came alive as the sun began to fade and he launched into “Southern Man”, a notable absentee from his Glastonbury set. Performing its viscerally angry solo with the passion its called for was incredibly moving and said more than words can in a time with alarmingly rapid increases in injustices that mirror the context in which it was written.
From there, the band rested their instruments as he (and the crowd) cried out a passionate rendition of “The Needle and the Damage Done” and a quick transition into “Harvest Moon”, which perfectly coincided with the sun disappearing from view and providing one of the most beautiful concert moments I’ve had the joy to witness.
Soon after, he made his exceptionally good mood quite evident by moving over to the piano to debut “After the Gold Rush” for the first time on this tour. Many around me were locked arm in arm with peers and lovers watching him approach the verge of tears. Everyone around me appeared to feel the same, basking in a moment that we knew would never come again.
While he did play a few questionably unlyrical tracks following this -- including the baffling tour staple “Name of Love”, a lyrically atrocious and melodically tepid tune from CSNY’s 80’s repertoire -- he ended the main set strong with a powerful rallying cry of “Old Man” that rung out through the park.
Despite an encore being quite expected, I’ve never heard a more genuinely unceasing call from one as the crowd roared for his return for over 5 minutes. When he did come back, he grinned and remarked what a crazy world it was, before playing “Throw Your Hatred Down” and “Rockin’ in the Free World.” The latter featured some vintage Neil Young cheekiness, doing three false endings with long feedback sections only to quickly break back into a call of that iconic chorus. He would have even done it once more, had the promoters not done the unthinkable and cut the Canadian hero’s microphone before he had finished as the clock struck exactly 10:30 PM. While he left the stage with a laugh, the crowd cheered him and booed the organisers concurrently for the disrespectful move.
While that left a sour taste in my mouth, it’s hard to argue that the organisers of BST deserve credit for putting together a festival that was across-the-board much better than any similar experiences I’ve had at Victoria or Finsbury Park. With reasonable beer prices, friendly staff, and a gorgeous environment, it was a day I’ll remember for the rest of my life and the ideal summer park concert in the city. And while pulling the plug on Neil Young might be insulting, in the end it only served as punctuation to the rousing case he made to the crowd that in a city of bands trying to be rockstars, he and the Iron Hearts are still living by the principles that piss off squares and should, frankly, be a prerequisite to earn that title. May Neil and company long keep rockin’ in the free world for as long as he wants to and his body allows him.