After two excellent collaborations with
Rick Rubin,
Neil Diamond can't resist taking the production reins himself for this collection of (mostly) covers. His liner notes claim these songs as some of his favorites from the "rock era" -- implying it's over. While this set is more intimate than most of his overblown production of the last 30 years, it is a step away from the simplicity of his work with
Rubin, featuring full strings, chamber reeds, winds, and brass on various cuts. As a vocalist,
Diamond's dramatic -- rather than involved -- authority is his trademark; he imposes it on almost every track. It works well here -- sometimes: the reading of
Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine" is excellent for this reason, more like a playwright's look than a lover's. The fiddle in
Lennon and
McCartney's "Blackbird" adds warmth to
Diamond's declamatory vocal.
Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home" is a set high point: it so intimate, naked, and desperate -- uncharacteristic of the ultra-private
Diamond -- it can stop the listener in her tracks; it feels unintentionally included on this collection. The restrained narrative storyteller's presentation of "Midnight Train to Georgia" is, despite its simple delivery, more empathic than passionate. The reading of
Leonard Cohen's transcendent "Hallelujah" is not definitive by any means, but it best illustrates
Diamond's intention to pay homage to the song -- it's an excellent version to add to the bunch that already exists.
Lesley Duncan's "Love Song" (
Elton John's reading on
Tumbleweed Connection is the classic) is quietly yet exotically treated with layered acoustic guitars, a spare piano, and
King Errisson's imaginative hand percussion.
Harry Nilsson's "Don't Forget Me," which bookends the album, is another high point with a celebratory horn chart underscoring the romantic world-weary irony in
Diamond's delivery. Some tracks just don't work.
Gilbert O'Sullivan's "Alone Again (Naturally)" sounds like the maudlin, trite novelty it is.
Diamond's "I'm a Believer" is rendered with far more drama than necessary. Here it's not an iconic pop song. It comes from the back end of the story -- illustrated by acoustic guitars, cello, and vibraphone, its joy is displaced by resolve, as if the singer is trying to convince himself the song's lyrics are true. Like most covers sets, this is a mixed bag, and it's for the hardcore
Diamond fan more than those who admire
Home Before Dark,
12 Songs, or his work from the '60s through the mid-'70s. ~ Thom Jurek