Journey Through The Past (1972)

I thought what was happening in my life was very innaresting. Should be documented—heh heh—and then I found out that, y’know, I had no perspective and was an egomaniac because I did that. But I had to make that movie to find out. Heh heh. (Neil Young to Jimmy McDonough, Shakey)

The first clue that Harvest’s success was going to have an effect on Neil’s career was that Warner Bros. entertained Neil making a film despite no prior film experience. He had a Super-8 and a successful album. What’s Journey Through The Past like? Well, it’s a perfect representation of what happens when you combine money, a camera, and a lot of pot. That might be the most consistent thread through this entire film: everyone was high as kites in this. That means scenes of inconsequential minutia sandwiched between stoned philosophizing straight out of any college party. Despite it being incredibly self-indulgent and frequently tedious, there is an endearing quality to its amateur-ness. Another way to look at it is that Journey Through The Past crawled, so Harvest Time could run. This is how Neil learned to make films and 50 years later, he released something filmed at the same time period but with the perspective he admitted to lacking. Much of the latter film was made at the same time and you frequently see the flipside of Harvest Time scenes in the former.

The most interesting thing about Journey Through The Past is the soundtrack, though. It really is a look back through Neil’s career at a point when he reached his highest chart success. Before Decade, Neil was already interested in the idea of retrospective. That’s why the soundtrack opens with Buffalo Springfield somewhat hilariously miming to a studio recording on The Hollywood Palace. Next are cuts from CSNY at Fillmore East, including a lovely a cappella “Find the Cost of Freedom” and somewhat rough performances of “Ohio” and “Southern Man.” That last one is similar to the 4 Way Street version that would be recorded the very next night. CSNY versions of that song always seem too self-indulgent and miss the focused restraint of Neil’s original.

At this point, Neil transitions to the Harvest-era material with three alternate takes from the Broken Arrow barn. “Are You Ready For the Country?” is pretty rough but I enjoy Neil’s super upfront honky tonk piano. “Alabama” is dissected to transition into a dubbing session with Stills and Crosby, which is a fun trick (could do without Crosby’s philosophizing, though). The real gem, though, is the extended “Words,” including short pauses in the barn for direction as they work the song out. In contrast to how the album version crashes in, this one draws out the intro as they find the groove. It makes me appreciate just how collaborative the Stray Gators were, despite being made up of session players. Neil was clearly letting them work out the best structure and vibe. When he stops to give some direction, they immediately pick right back up in perfect sync. Jack Nitzsche’s piano is really great on this longer version, too. I’m a sucker for a rhythm piano in rock music and he goes for it on this one.

The last “act” of the album and film is dominated by other sources, like “Handel’s Messiah” and “King of Kings” that really show how abstract and lofty the film gets. Before closing with the Beach Boys, Neil does include one previously unreleased song called “Soldier,” recorded in a sawdust burner with a roaring fire in the background. It seems to be a lament for a lost soldier and perhaps relates most to the film’s perplexing final scene where a general, a priest, and a businessman/politician go into a nebulous structure and come back out with a bedraggled man who we’ve been following throughout the film. Who knows what Neil was trying to say with the film, but the soundtrack on it’s own is an intriguing…journey, to say the least.

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