Forest Hills Stadium. May 15, 2024.
When I tell you that the idea of seeing Neil Young in person seemed like a distant dream, this is as close to the truth as I can express. Based on a variety of factors such as his age and myself being from a small Northern City in England, I made my peace a long time ago that blasting Harvest Moon was as close as I’d get to being physically graced with the presence of Neil Young. Then I moved to New York…which, nearing three years later, is still something I can’t quite get my head around. If someone was to tell my younger self that this was where I’d end up in my mid-20s, I would have laughed. Not because it would have seemed too far-fetched (although it would have), but because I could have never have imagined an opportunity presenting itself that would warrant such a move.
A frequented question I get asked if people notice my accent is, “why did you move to New York?” quickly followed by, “do you like it?”. For a split second, I debate in my head whether to bore them with the full spiel of my love affair. I quickly opt not to and reply “I moved here for my partner (now husband)”. This always feels incredibly adult of me to say. Last week, I had another one of these encounters to which this lady responded to my answer with, “ahhh, so you moved here for love”. I thought: 1. wow, what a lovely and dreamy way of putting it, and 2. yes, exactly that. Now with thanks to that kind individual, going forward and no matter how awkward it might be, my response to that question will be “I moved to New York for love”. Is it romanticizing life if it’s true?
Depending on the day, week or month, the latter question of if I like New York gets the widest range of answers. If I’ve been intentionally spat on by a homeless person in the subway (true story, happened last week), ask me that question and I will quickly tell you how much I hate it. Ask me when I’ve just been to see a Neil Young concert, I’ll tell you it’s a wonderful place. On the one hand, the city is abundant with inspiration, culture, art, food and opportunities. On the other, I’m dodging spit. Jokes aside, adjusting from my home, a community centric city, has proved difficult. I miss my family and closest friends tremendously *shout out Summer and Alicia*. All that being said, I can appreciate that this transition is ongoing and it can be tough at times but I’m navigating my way through it, taking each day as its own. Any other folk out there that have moved overseas?
My fondest memories I have growing up are of my parents blasting music in our perfect, humble bungalow. If music was playing, there was no room you could escape to for some quiet. The aspiring audio level! Most vividly, I remember summertimes. The backdoor always open; portable camping chairs set outside in the sun as well as an old Church pew (still to this day I don’t know when, where or how that ended up in our back garden). Etched in the back were a number of profane phrases we laughed at. Either way with the addition of many cushions, it was a good sun-soaking spot. Led Zeppelin, Foo Fighters, Funkadelic, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Neil Young, to name a few. A stack of CDs on rotation, the choice of the next album to be played was taken care of by my dad with no disputes. Of course, any suggestion was welcome but it was more-so that we were happy for him to make the decision. We’d be readily waiting to sit back and enjoy.
If I had to choose, Harvest Moon would be my all-time #1 album. It has the ability to transport me to numerous places and times in my life- both good and bad- but without fail, always rooting back to my family. My mam, my dad and my older sisters. The power of music man! *read that last sentence in a stereotypical ‘surfer dude’ accent.* Did you just cringe reading that? Me too.
To go into depth for this next part would be wrong of me because there are equally no words and too many words surrounding grief. I do often think however, about writing about it… a lot. Maybe the day will present itself soon. When my dad passed away in October 2022, there was no question that Harvest Moon would be one of the songs played at his funeral. This song, that could almost be described as a theme song to our family (in its joyful sense) was now to be played on the most gut-wrenching day of our lives. Hearts broken, a flood of memories, my dad, our everything. It doesn’t matter if it’s an intentional listen on Spotify or a suprise startle whilst out-and-about, when Harvest Moon plays, I never know how my brain and body will react. It tends to be emotional, nonetheless. Our special song.
Even after securing tickets earlier this year, I wasn’t convinced I was going to see Neil Young. One thing I’m overly aware of is that time is so precious and a lot can change within a few months. It wasn’t until we were grabbing a beer and standing amongst a sea of people that it started to sink in. It was happening, rain or shine! Rain.
Through his harmonica and acoustic guitar is how I know his music best. I’ve listened to his songs with Crazy Horse, but to give full disclosure, I needed a refresher prior to the concert. Even still, the night couldn’t be faulted. Being crammed in the stands between two blokes (one being my husband) couldn’t dampen my spirits. The whole night my eyes were wide and never left the sight of the stage. It was game over when he returned to the stage solo with his acoustic guitar and his harmonica. Prior to the concert, I made sure to have no expectations of hearing Harvest Moon or any of the songs so dear to my heart (a smart move). There was no Harvest Moon (probably for the best) but there was Heart of Gold. I cannot express in words how listening to him play Heart of Gold live made me feel. I’m telling you it was a spiritual experience. If there was any artist my dad should’ve seen when he was physically here, it was Neil Young. He was there with me, I know he was.
Music fuels life.
Ok so with that, I’ll leave you with this. This past weekend, me and my husband gatecrashed (not really) our friend’s gathering in the Catskills. Sat around the fire with people we’d only just been introduced to. There were group questions being thrown around such as, “If you had to lose one of your senses which would it be?”, etc. Smell and taste were a popular choice. Then I asked the group, “If you had to give up sex or music, which would you choose?”
I don’t trust anyone that chooses music.
Peace and love everybody,
Grace