Neil Young is back High in the Rockies now!

Neil Young. Enough said? If you want to explore his full CV and discography, you might head to Wikipedia or check out the “70 Facts You Might Not Know About Neil Young” from Tidal. Here, though, we’re all about the music—the tunes that have shaped our lives and continue to resonate across generations. This article is less a biography and more a collage of emotional responses to Young’s music. As the title suggests, the unifying theme here is love.

“Old Man” was the track that first inspired me to pick up the harmonica and try to emulate Neil’s haunting, plaintive sound. Those early days of my Neil Young harp phase are etched in my memory, harmonicas scattered around in the keys of A, G, and C. There was something raw and honest in that song that spoke to me on a level beyond words.

And then there’s “Helpless,” a song that took on a whole new meaning for me when I heard Neil perform it at The Last Waltz. That legendary concert film captured a moment in time—Neil, in all his ragged glory, standing on stage with The Band, a little worse for wear, and yet more captivating than ever. Joni Mitchell, hidden in the wings, provided harmonies that felt like a gentle hand on Neil’s shoulder, guiding him through the haze. It’s no secret that the 60s and 70s were rife with drug use, and Neil wasn’t immune to it. There’s a well-known story about Martin Scorsese using rotoscoping to remove a chunk of cocaine from Neil’s nose during The Last Waltz. The backstage area was reportedly well-stocked with white powder, a reality for many of the era’s rock and folk icons. Yet amidst all this, there was Joni, ever the guardian angel, supporting her childhood friend from backstage.

The Last Waltz, held on Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1976, at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco, was a celebration, a farewell, and a microcosm of a decade’s worth of excesses. Neil and Joni, both survivors of that era’s chaos, brought a depth to their performances that was undeniably rooted in their shared Canadian heritage and mutual respect. It’s a wonder they made it through, given the countless who didn’t, but perhaps it’s precisely because of that grounding—Joni and Neil’s bond, their resilience—that they endured.

Joni’s album Blue stands as a poignant elegy to those lost in the whirlwind of the 60s and 70s. Neil’s “The Needle and the Damage Done” offers a stark, haunting meditation on the ravages of heroin addiction. Both artists faced their own battles with substance use but emerged to tell their stories. We’re fortunate to still have them with us, not just for their music but for the wisdom and grace they carry from those hard-learned lessons.

Neil’s survival began long before he found himself in the midst of the 70s rock scene. In 1951, at the tender age of 7, Neil contracted polio during the last major outbreak of the virus in Ontario. He nearly lost his life, an experience that left a lasting mark. Joni Mitchell, two years older, also battled polio in the same epidemic. Their shared early brush with mortality seems to have given both artists a depth and empathy that permeates their music.

There’s a dichotomy in Neil Young’s work that mirrors the essence of innocence and experience. His voice, unmistakable and unfiltered, cuts through the noise, rising above to pierce the soul. It’s a voice that finds you in your quietest moments, reminding the sleeping inner child to wake up, to feel, and to remember the power of love. Neil’s music doesn’t just tell a story; it pulls you into its current, sweeping you away with its emotional honesty and raw beauty.

Returning to his ranch in the high Rockies, Neil Young remains a figure of enduring relevance, a cross-generational icon whose music continues to inspire. From the heartfelt strumming of “Old Man” to the haunting echoes of “Helpless,” Neil’s songs are a testament to his journey—a journey of survival, love, and unwavering dedication to his craft.