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"He came out of a very traditional school of songwriting," opines Anthony DeCurtis, a contributing editor at Rolling Stone, "where you try to hit a particular mark. What happened with Neil Diamond, I think, is that his music, or maybe himself personally, came to represent a kind of rock & roll fantasy for people living a very non-rock & roll life -- particularly women. I think it became sort of a trap for him, and with few exceptions, he hasn't really gotten out.
"I think the way the emotions got packaged is sort of what did him in artistically," says DeCurtis. "Songs like 'Solitary Man' and 'Red, Red Wine' exhibited a sort of rawness. The frustration of those emotions became something more akin to 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers,' where the frustration becomes a little more contained. It's not something that's going to blow apart a particularly visceral person, but rather captures some sort of suburban angst. Which is real, to be sure. But it's not necessarily done like maybe John Updike might do it, with a sense of finesse."
Finesse, however, apparently went out with the smooth-talking Clinton administration. Mix the schmaltzy, vaseline-lensed soft porn nostalgia of Diesel and countless other magazine ads, the revisionist, campy-as-cool That 70s Show, and a New Cold War hammerhead political mentality, and you get the whole current, backward-facing 30-and-under zeitgeist -- a land where hip-huggers and tube tops rule, the dunderheaded Creed is the biggest band on Earth, and the flashiest guys get all the sex. Ours was a post-Vietnam culture that forgot Vietnam, and now we have another one (and, thanks to Enron, we may even get our Watergate). Is it any wonder, then, that Neil Diamond reigns?
A Neil fan named Danielle points to the media as a main cause of Diamond's fans' (self) righteousness.
"Through the years the media, who were not encouraging or kind, fueled the fire for his fans," she says. "For reasons I don't totally understand, the need to defend him is quite strong once you've been 'diamondized.' Perhaps it's due in part to his uniqueness. He never gave in to the media or industry pressure to fit in. . .he's always listened to his heart and done it his way, and from that example, encourages us to do the same. It's not a rebellious 'do it your way' -- it's simply 'believe in yourself, your dreams and don't ever allow anyone to snatch them out of your hands.' The world needed someone like that in the early 70s. It still does."
Neil? Attitude? On a VH1 Behind the Music profile that first aired last summer, Neil was asked by the interviewer about his infamous glittering wardrobe. Neil smiled and said, "Well, I'm something of a contrarian," adding if writers write that they don't like his sparkling shirts, he's generally inspired to "go out and order a dozen more."
Neil Diamond is almost Zen-like in his tightrope walk, the same walk he's managed so gracefully for some 30 years now. He's cool precisely because he seems blissfully unaware of all the fuss. He doesn't see his work in ironic terms, and neither do his longtime fans. He's a walking Hallmark card -- his lyrics might be cliches, but cliches typically become cliches because they tend to have some kernel of universal truth. The statements he makes might be maudlin, but they stir the emotions of listeners. Neil apparently cares enough to give the very best, every night, to his audience, and for that they adore him. Every move might be scripted for maximum impact, the hand gestures and the messianic poses, but unlike many of today's contemporary crooners (Enrique Iglesias, are you listening?), they somehow seem genuine. The guy seems to genuinely care and in this era of neverending irony, that counts for something. Despite themselves, most people can admire a man like that, even as they roll their eyes knowingly and smirk when one of his songs comes on the radio.
