„stones“

(MCA, 1971)

Skip away the glitter and glamour, forget about the Jazz Singer and Jonathan Seagull, and what will stay is a lonely guy with bare feet and long, curly hair, strumming an acoustic guitar, spreading an incredible sense of melody and harmony and aiming for grandeur and intimacy at the same time in his songwriting. This had been appreciated lately when, in an attempt to reach for an comeback of credibility analogous to that of the late Johnny Cash (RiP) with Rick Rubin and the release of „12 songs“, which in my opinion was a mediocre affair. There is just no way to imagine Neil Diamond without stringsections or a brass section. There is nothing bad about strings and horns at all; their kitschiness depends on the amount and the kind of arrangement they are put into and a lot of times, especially with Neil Diamond and fellow crooners, there is just too much or too bland and obvious use of these apparitions. On „Stones“, Neil Diamond’s masterpiece from 1971, the mixture is completely right and balanced throughout, which makes it so great a record and even if you don’t believe it, a steady diet in the Cracked home.

The collection of songs presented by Diamond on „Stones“ is an incredibla and delicate choice. With only three originals by Diamond himself – the title track, the novelty track but concert favorite „Crunchy Granola Suite“ and the legendary „I am I said“ (which there should be some words about later on as well) – the choice of songwriters covered is like a run down of genius composers that never made it up to their rightful stardom. Like any good artist covering other people’s work, Diamond makes these songs his own, breathes his style into them and thereby enriches them. This way he makes them a tribute or hommage, whatever you will, as well as parts of his own legacy. With parts of his choice Diamond reaches out to the then still admired songwriters inabiting the isle of New York like Joni Mitchell’s „Chelsea Morning“ and Leonard Cohen with „Suzanne“. The latter one being a big thing to take up in its own right, but Diamond pulls it off with his personal energy and emphasis and even manages to take the song to new heights. Still a ballad and everything, it becomes a bigger and grander track.

With other covers he stretches his hands outwards to country music with Tim Paxton’s „The Last thing on my mind“, a nostalgic and heartthrobbing ballad, and „Husbands and Wives“ of Roger Miller, who, very much like Diamond himself, was a great songwriter and original artist inspite of having sold millions of records to the most reactionary and conservative music listeners imaginable. Then there is the only songwriter truly encompassing the whole of the USA, Randy Newman, being tributed with the sad „I think it’s gonna rain today“. Finally we have to mention the tip to the hat to the only nation that has brought forth a unique style of balladeer-songwriting comparable to that of Diamond, which is the French chanson, and to ist greatest mainsty: Jacques Brel. As you can see, Diamond only reaches for the biggest names and challenges in his choices, like a true star should. But throughout he remains the honesty and truthfulness that is expectable from someone interested in the art of the song.

New York is the recurring theme all over this record, no matter where or how far Diamond goes. „Chelsea Morning“ is of course not about the London city district, but that in New York, and we already mentioned Leonard Cohen. The mainstay of this theme, of course, is „I am ... I said“, that great energetic fistpumper (can you imagine anybody pumping fists at a Neil Diamond Show?) and anthem of Diamond. What „Born to Run“ is to Bruce Springsteen is „I am .. I said“ to Neil Diamond, I guess. The song appears twice, once to start the record, and a second time as a reprise at the end, to further stretch its importance. The song, if by any chance you don’t know it, is all about being away from home, unsettled and restless, and with no friends or loved ones to confide and trust in. „I am ... I said“ the singer shouts out in self-reassuring empathy and you can see the fist stretched at the gods above him, that set him in this awful place, and then resignatingly adding „to no one there“. A great moment of songwriting if there ever was one. The whole existentialist dilemma of mankind cut down into only two short lines of four to five words.

Which must have been why even bands like Killdozer have been attracted to this songs. Which in another step was a great thing because this is were I first heard that song: on the all covers Killdozer album „For Ladies Only“. This record should recieve some more words here as well, because it fits, because it has brought me to at least a half dozen of great moments in American songwriting, from „Burning Love“ (a not so known Elvis-Tune) to „Hush“ by Deep Purple or Joe South, depends on your upbringing to „American Pie“ by Don McLean and so on. Produced by Butch Vig, by the way.