Neil Diamond

One has to feel some empathy for the depression Neil Diamond underwent as a result of Sony's dreaded rootkit fiasco. (Rootkit was potentially malicious anti-piracy software Sony installed on a number of its compact disc titles.) Right at the crest of the press acclaim and rising sales -- and the beginning of Diamond overcoming the initial disbelief of aging hipsters that the album was one of his very best recording efforts and not one of his easy listening exercises -- the outcries against Sony's folly caused them to yank the album from retail. Ugh! Thankfully, Diamond gets a second chance just as he and Rick Rubin get to work on a second offering. Along with the original 12 Songs comes a pair of bonus cuts including "Men Are So Easy," and "Delirious Love," the latter of which features Brian Wilson doing his Beach Boys best with rich multi-layered "ooh" harmonies, staggered chorus lines, and handclaps. It's not stellar, and the original is better, but it's certainly worth hearing.

In addition, there is a second disc that contains alternates, demos and outtakes from the 12 Songs sessions. They are placed in the same order as the tracks on the finished recording, and therefore add dimension and information about how certain choices were made. This is especially true of the demos. The unadorned versions of opener "Oh Mary," "I'm on to You," and "Face Me" offer an intimate and raw view of an artist whose work has been wildly polished since the mid-'60s. Here are the songs as they emerged and became clear to the songwriter; they become full-bodied in his voice as he moves and struggles to come to grips with them and make them real. Likewise, "Save Me a Saturday Night," with its tentative voice expresses a vulnerability not often evident in Diamond's finished efforts. Likewise, an early take of "Man of God," is chilling in its slowly wandering way, as if the singer is trying to convince himself more than the listener. The alternate take of "Create Me," is among the most moving and tenderly naked pieces the songwriter has ever offered. There is no tentativeness in his delivery; it's perfectly convicted, confidently delivered sung poetry. Likewise, the demo of "Face Me" doesn't just contain the requisite drama of Diamond's best downer love songs; there is real anger here along with utterly believable pain: the realization that this is most assuredly the same songwriter who gave us "Solitary Man" 40-plus years on is a bit shocking at first, but it's a few steps down the road. This is what happens when we need and want, it seems to say, and unless the Beloved looks him straight in the eye and says the words he dreads, he refuses to accept that it's happened yet again. This is Neil Diamond not as a self satisfied musician looking through his past, but the sound of a songwriter hungry for the spark, with an editor, Rubin, who won't let him veer from the path. If you missed this the first time around, get it. If you bought it the first time around, give your copy away and dig into this thing hard. You may find yourself playing the bonus disc more than the original. If you're merely a cynic, then try to pull yourself away from the Bright Eyes and Sufjan Stevens records and try not being cool for a change. You'll most likely be surprised and delighted. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide