The one song Neil Young should be remembered for: ‘On the Beach’
“Who the fuck is going to watch Neil Young?” someone at my Glastonbury campsite asked, on the morning of his headline slot. I was quick to reply, “me”, probably punctuating the air with awkwardness, but, more importantly, reminding everyone that this was no old geezer getting up on stage. It was a legend.
Perhaps the confusion of labelling him as just another legacy star is in his unwavering personality. Everything that comes under the label of commercial, he is anti, and so when he was pitted against Charli XCX as the Saturday night headliner, maybe it did reduce him to just a grumpy old man with a guitar?
If so, that’s fine by me. For that is exactly why I fell in love with Neil Young in the first place. As a teenager, I romanticised the idea of a standalone troubadour, playing his songs in the face of political uncertainty and over a decade later, as a fully grown adult, that feeling hasn’t subsided. While the “Brat summer” rolled on and lime green merchandise blinded my eyes, my remaining senses took solace in the safety of Young’s authenticity.
How exactly that authenticity manifests itself to me is perhaps what many would consider pessimism. He’s undoubtedly heartwarming on ‘Harvest Moon’ and inspiringly observational on ‘Old Man’, but for me, at his most compelling, is on ‘On the Beach’.
The entire record was designed to push back against audience expectations. Two years on from Harvest, critics and fans were quick to label him the next golden voice of folk-rock, which, if anything, was as good a deterrent as any to prevent him from providing them with a follow-up.
He said, “I don’t like to be labelled, to be anything. I’ve made the mistake before myself of labelling my music, but it’s counter-productive,” adding, “The thing about my music is, there really is no point,” shrugging off desperate attempts to understand his genius, simply noting, “I just do what I do. I like to make music”.
And ‘On the Beach’ was him making music at his independent best. Lyrically, it was a compelling take on a protagonist disconnected from the humdrum of modern life, standing on the precipice wondering what, if any, connection waits on the horizon. To match that contemplation, Young crafted a pensive and patient arrangement that gave way to all the finest elements of his musicianship—be it a winding guitar solo or falsetto vocal take.
It’s part of an album that, in its entirety, should be the work Young is remembered for. Past the title track, the record explores every corner of a life lived, from the introspection of ‘On the Beach’, to the resilience of ‘Walk On’, while seizing the opportunity to be anti-establishment where it can, in ‘Ambulance Blues’. Every corner of this project conceals another facet of Young’s ever-compelling character and provides an understanding guidebook of how to navigate modern life. It was as relatable in 1972 as it is now, in 2025 and that is why the fuck, I was going to see Neil Young.
