Neil Diamond - Stones (1971)

Neil Diamond began his career as a songwriter in New York's Brill Building, composing songs with a rock and roll flavor but more oriented toward straight pop.  His first big success came with "I'm a Believer," which became a hit for the Monkees in 1966.  Eventually, Diamond began to have his own pop-rock hits in the late sixties with songs that could be (and sometimes were) as infectious as the latest Beatles single. "Cherry, Cherry," "Solitary Man," and "Thank The Lord For the Nighttime" are among the many finger-snapping tunes  he wrote and recorded, and later songs such as "Cracklin' Rosie" and covers of his songs from rock and roll acts such as Elvis Presley ("And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind") and even Deep Purple ("Kentucky Woman") made Diamond a major pop-rock figure.

Diamond's contributions to rock and roll in the late sixties may have earned him a place in rock history (as well as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame), but his music took a turn away from rock and roll after that. He was becoming an archetype in what was known as the singer-songwriter genre - songwriters who sang their own songs to musical arrangements that owed as much to folk and pop as well as rock, with a more self-referencing, introspective view.  Diamond's own songs were becoming more intense and personal, but while many of his peers (Paul Simon, et al.) would keep a foot firmly planted in rock, Diamond was increasingly heading for the middle of the road, and his music had gelled into a softer sound that was becoming known as "adult-contemporary."              

Stones, released in 1971, all but completed Diamond's move to MOR (1972's Moods, his last studio album on the Uni label before moving to Columbia, would pretty much finish the job), but what was more ear-opening was his reliance on material from other singer-songwriters.  Of the ten tracks on this album, just four are Diamond originals - the title track, the silly but fun "Crunchy Granola Suite," and two versions of what became his signature song, his Descartian epic "I Am . . . I Said."  The rest of the album finds Diamond interpreting the work of fellow singer-songwriters Tom Paxton, Joni Mitchell, Randy Newman, and even country legend Roger Miller.  What's more, he chose to cover mostly downbeat songs; except for Joni Mitchell's optimistic "Chelsea Morning," which he does here with some sprightliness, the songs Diamond covers here express the emptiness he admitted to be feeling deep inside at the time.  

Much of Diamond's appeal as a performer is his moody baritone voice and his personal connection to his audience, so the covers on this record actually fit his style quite nicely.  (My experience with this LP is entirely through my mother; she's a big Neil Diamond fan, and she first bought it when it first came out, playing it ad infinitum and replacing worn-out copies ever since.)  Diamond gives notable depth to Tom Paxton's "The Last Thing On My Mind" with a repentant vocal performance, and his take on Randy Newman's "I Think It's Going To Rain Today," with a dirge-like backup, is as ominous as an approaching storm cloud.  While the music on Stones can be rather somber, with plenty of lush strings and tender guitars, it's still mostly an easy listen for the easy-listening crowd, its mellowness acting as a soothing balm to counteract lyrics about divorce ("Husbands and Wives," a tune from Roger Miller on par with his hit "King of the Road") and separation ("If You Go Away," courtesy of  . . . Jacques Brel and Rod McKuen?).   Coming as it did after his big early successes, Stones sounds like Diamond was giving himself time to work out some stress through other people's songs before resuming his own songwriting in earnest.

A good deal of that stress is apparent in the album's original tunes.  "Stones" is a tale of austere loneliness that appreciates the promise of future fulfillment, its strings and light percussion sounding uplifting, while "Crunchy Granola Suite" is a lyrically nonsensical, guitar-driven workout that sounds like a vehicle for Diamond to let off some steam and laugh at himself.  But it was "I Am . . . I Said," which reportedly took Diamond four months to compose, that got to the heart of the matter.  In the unfolding, majestic sound of an orchestra that goes from soft to strident, the Brooklyn-born Diamond admits to being devoid of an identity after living in LA and not finding any comfort or companionship in his life - only an empty room with an empty chair.  Complaining that even his chair won't acknowledge him is an admittedly bad lyric (I would have advised Neil to sing "Why shouldn't I care?" instead of "Not even the chair," but it's too late for that), but it makes the point.  And, lest no one understood that he was serious, Diamond chose to close Stones with a short reprise of "I Am . . . I Said" that climaxes with an echoing scream of "I am!" that is anything but mellow.  Diamond may have found personal contentment in securing his place as an adult-contemporary crooner, but he had to work out a good deal of dissatisfaction to get there.