Weekly Neil: Sedan Delivery
No one knows the things that he knows
The allure of the “lost” album persists. What’s not to love? As a teenager taken with the strummy stylings of the Dave Matthews Band, I fell deep into fandom when I discovered an unreleased LP called The Lillywhite Sessions that, legend goes, was ditched for being too dark. Electric Nebraska, the alternate-history Born In The U.S.A., remains enticing because its acoustic source material is perfect — so how could Springsteen amplifying it with the E Street Band be anything except magic? There’s even the noisier version of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot pointed to by the many, many demos released (and leaked) over the past 15 that remains one of my biggest “what if” musical moments.
Neil is famous for a lot of things. Flannel. Shredding. That heartrending tenor. And as Jim Jarmusch learned when he asked Neil to score his 1995 noir-Western Dead Man, Neil doesn’t make plans. (David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Graham Nash knew this well.) What might begin with a powerful, strange burst of inspiration can eventually fade and fail to hold any interest. This is likely why Neil doesn’t just have one “lost” album, or even two. When he finally released Hitchhiker, recorded in 1976 but shelved for over 40 years, it was quite the cause for celebration. What was initially deemed a collection of mere demos by his record company was, in fact, one of his rawest and most moving performances — Nebraskaesque in its sparse directness. Homegrown, by contrast, captured in the previous two years, was sloppy but sometimes euphoric — a Ditch-era dispatch from the bottom of a well, and the well was filled with whiskey. It finally saw a proper release in 2020. And it’s magnificent.
This all brings us to Chrome Dreams, which writer Alexis Petridis once wrote “could have been Young’s strongest album of the ‘70s.” Instead, the songs trickled out on other releases from 1977 to 1993. (“That is part of the creative process,” reads part of the press release announcing that Neil will finally give Chrome Dreams the official treatment on August 11.) One of those songs is “Sedan Delivery,” and man, I gotta say: “Sedan Delivery” has long been one of the weak links on Rust Never Sleeps for me. It’s a bummer to admit, but considering that album is bookended by “My My, Hey Hey” and its twin and also boasts both “Pocahontas” and “Powderfinger,” “Sedan Delivery” feels a bit like a whole lot of crunching without much purpose. The BPM is too fast. The guitar tone doesn’t fit the punkish energy.
Yet lyrically, it harkens back to some of Neil’s early psychedelic singer-songwriter work, especially “The Last Trip To Tulsa.” I consider both to be hugely influential on Father John Misty, especially his debut album, as Josh’s Neil fandom is well documented. When stripped of the new wave trappings present on Rust Never Sleeps — namely, when heard in its original Chrome Dreams iteration, which Neil released last week — I definitely fuck with “Sedan Delivery.”
It’s really not worth unpacking here; I suggest experiencing “Sedan Delivery” as Neil sings it, not by dissecting its lyrics on the page. But here’s what I know. On May 22, 1975, Neil and Crazy Horse recorded it in a house in Point Dume, California. The vibes were shaggy and loose, as they were for the rest of the Zuma album recording. When Neil sings about running the pool table and Cleopatra and Caesar screwing in the cosmos, the shambling drum beat offers immense clarity. This is a lark. Even if it’s not. Is he the old man perceived as a madman? The bigamist pulling teeth? Did any of this happen, or is it a bit like “Desolation Row?” What ever happened to that Indian in the corner trying on his clothes?
The best thing about being a Neil fan is how there’s a version of nearly every song that you’ll vibe with. For me, this Chrome Dreams take of “Sedan Delivery” really is it. I shouldn’t be surprised. The first time I heard Zuma in full, I was convinced it was my favorite record. (It’s not, but it was a blast to think that way for a few days.) I may feel the same about Chrome Dreams when I go on that voyage next month.
The only thing left to do until August 11 is listen to Chrome Dreams II, released in 2007. In fact, at this moment, I just threw on “No Hidden Path,” a 14-minute loper, and I’m once again reminded that there’s always another Neil surprise around every corner. No one knows the things that he knows.
“Sedan Delivery,” written by Neil Young, from Chrome Dreams (recorded 1974-1977, released 2023)
Neil Young: guitar, vocals
Frank Sampedro: guitar, vocals
Billy Talbot: bass
Ralph Molina: drums