Intimate, Playful Neil Young

In concert, Neil Young is a lot like a coin toss you can’t lose. Whether focusing on new songs or old, appearing in an acoustic solo format or backed by the hurricane force of the Crazy Horse band, Young invariably gives a memorable performance.

Even by his standards, however, Young’s solo performance on Monday at the Wiltern Theatre was unusually warm and inspired--boldly featuring eight new songs, most of which will either be on the upcoming Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young reunion album or a solo album due next year.

One reason for the impact of the show: It was one of the few times the veteran rocker has played such an intimate venue here. Young took advantage of the setting to make the evening as informal as if he were hosting friends in the rehearsal barn of his Santa Cruz-area ranch.

Unlike so many of the other great artists from the ‘60s, including Bob Dylan and Van Morrison, Young connects with an audience on more than simply a musical level. Rather than just serve up the songs to his adoring listeners, Young personalized many of them with stories and playful asides.

And, of course, the fans yelled back.

When the shouts got particularly thick at one point, Young took advantage of the week’s most memorable show-biz moment--actor-director Roberto Benigni’s joyous Oscar night enthusiasm--to shout at one particularly vocal admirer in the balcony, “Hey, Roberto . . . [is that you?]”

Young’s music, long characterized by the rare ability to express delicate matters in strikingly intense terms, has always been about searching for answers to life’s classic questions, a point he acknowledged in “Tell Me Why,” an early-’70s song that opened the Wiltern concert. It includes the line, “Still the searcher must ride the dark horse . . . racing alone with his fright.”

For four decades, Young has raced alone himself--a stubbornly independent artist who pauses at times to reflect on politics and despair, but mostly chronicles the people, places and, at times, pets that have enriched his life.

In the two-hour concert’s most unexpected and perhaps most delightful moment, Young--who otherwise alternated between acoustic guitar and keyboards--assumed the role of banjo-strumming folkie to tell the story behind “Old King.”

The song, an ode to Young’s beloved hound dog Elvis, is one of the slightest things he has ever written. But the story behind the song--specifically the time Elvis got lost on tour, only to show up at a show 100 miles away--was woven into a good-natured, 15-minute gem of a tale.

As much as anything, the story was a reminder that our greatest pop artists aren’t just exercising their imaginations in their work, but are also sharing their experiences. And if that much emotion went into a simple song, you can imagine how much there is behind Young’s more complex ones.

From “Old King,” Young proceeded to “Long May You Run,” the far more substantial 1976 song he wrote about the hearse he used to drive, and then onto “Harvest Moon,” one of his most embracing love songs.

What makes Young’s love songs so engaging is that he never takes the emotion for granted. While celebrating the joys of love, he acknowledges its mysteries, recognizing that--whether with romantic partners or children--it’s a blessing that’s richer than any science we have mastered.

In the same way, Young’s music feels like a blessing and a mystery. In a pop world where most stars gain our allegiance with just a handful of winning songs, Young is one of the few artists who has a genuinely rich body of work--and the eight new numbers, including the deeply evocative “Looking Forward” and “Distant Camera,” suggest it is still growing.