Diamond Reflections
It took me a long time to take Neil Diamond seriously. Though I'd been aware of the Jewish Elvis ever since I heard Urge Overkill's cover of his "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon" (in 1994's Pulp Fiction), my real introduction came years later, when, during a procrastination-induced bout of cleaning, I found my dad's cassette tape of Diamond's Hot August Night laying at the bottom of a box of discarded music. That alternately eye-rolling and ear-catching document of a 1972 L.A. concert was undoubtedly cheesy, but I liked the way it tasted. I've been a Neil Diamond fan ever since, albeit a closet one. I'm happy to listen to him by myself, but a little embarrassed to play his stuff outside the judgment-free zone of my headphones. Unfortunately, there was no jack for me to plug into at Diamond's sold-out Madison Square Garden show last Friday night.
Only Grinchly cynics wouldn't have enjoyed at least a dozen of the songs Neil and his band of 35 years (!) played that night. "Holly Holy," "Cracklin' Rosie," "I'm A Believer," "Sweet Caroline"--these are some undeniably catchy pop tunes. Even Diamond's stately newer material, like "Hell Yeah," from 2005's 12 Songs, and "Pretty Amazing Grace," from this year's Home Before Dark, didn't suffer by comparison to the classic stuff.
Neither did Neil. He's 67 now, but his beaded shirts still sparkle in the stage lights; he still points triumphantly to the heavens at the end of every song; and his Borscht Belt rock-star charisma was in strong supply. Dude's still got it.
But it is part of the problem. As much as I might try to delude myself into thinking otherwise, Neil Diamond is not a rocker. I recently read a quote from Diamond where he said that if Roy Orbison could be considered rock, then so should he. I understand the sentiment--rock encompasses more than just long-haired wild men--but what Neil's music lacks (and good rock doesn't) is a sense that something's at stake. Orbison was no roughneck, but, good lord, he sounded like his heart might explode. Neil? Everything is safe. No performance feels like it's more than just that--a performance. That comfortable amiability surely has something to do with why he's sold more than 100 million records and can fill Madison Square Garden 40 years into his career. But it's also why he's been subject to accusations of making muzak instead of music. With those numbers though, I suspect he's fine with the trade-off.
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