Neil Young - Madrid 1987 (review)

A ladder with canopy uses for the first time
The Barcelona-Madrid anti-rust, digs "El País" that is opened.
Perhaps was it seen by the expert -
New traveller - who patrols through Europe?
In seven times seven, Otto will break the shelves
Close to quinquennal and clock-making spirals.

Ever since, some beloved tolled his knell
And turned their head away from Rockodrama.
Of course, nobody must scratch the eczema
Of a corpse. Tonight, the crypt is without ice.
In the country of Cervantes, the peon is pious,
Not listening to the resurrection by his eyes.

That’s great! Euphoria is the blessing
That covers our bones with quite receptive flesh.
The movement liquefies his subjective flesh;
This Neil Young is water from a predilection
In the fingers of Time. One paper cloud
Delights his sky such a fruit-bearing butterfly.

The roots are moved towards this amniotic source
By which Neil Young draws
Origin for his bath and thus disguises himself
As Eternity conning Time and Money!
Satisfied, Neil bursts out laughing, loudly, crying out:
"Thank you for coming." to the so radiant ground.

Happy, Neil bends the shade, dries himself in the gold disc.
His reflection is become an anamorphosis on these waters
As Vanity that would become fertile
By means of a Sylph being toreador.
Air palpitates... Ah! Oh! Time is Water spreading out
On our lives so well printed, crinkling us.

Neil sits down at table. In a soft fluttering,
He puts in parentheses the bounce of the hammer:
His blue sandwich clears off really from the vice
Like a puff with greasy and insane packing.
Such a young imp, Neil peels childishness:
Jacket and shirt leave from the same foliage!

All the time barearmed, the good mahout operates
With folds the flexible laces about the framework
Of geometrical Time and about the closet
Of inaccurate Space, with labour force.
Billy strengthens snail steps.
Poncho and Ralph peg the vast section.

The concealed sequences line up in our eye.
When Neil laughs with us in recognition,
Poncho boots him to denounce his birth.
But this "Born to rock" moves Neil as a squirrel.
The six shells sing a wind of prologue...
This strand draws the matrix of Dugout.

Our glances are struck and synthesized.
How you doin' out there...? Neil tautening his mountain:
"... Here a song for ordinary people" from Spain.
The nave agrees and then the voices hypnotize.
Neil outshines his tool, locating the rungs.
The edifice embellishes all sparrows.

Impetuous, Neil shakes himself decorating the meshes
With gilded pearls that, suddenly, are green.
The equation of the lost and lively colours
Produces the link of the confinement of the seeds.
Molecules hoard up the already coded views,
Faking our rotary vapours.

Neil strikes his proof of the circumference.
The drift, concerning that, brandishes that any axis is needle
Thinking to be vertebra like eel
Infiltrating towards an unhealthy transparency.
Twenty-seven bones hail us towards prehension.
Six long phalanxes turn darker the pressure.

And Energy runs causing the channels to overflow,
Compelling Mass to identify with Memory.
But Neil bursts the compartment of our unreadable book
For lucid light surrounding the rings.
Rubbing ends up covering our eyelids
With the beautiful soot that livens our prayers up.

Let’s not forget: the powder that makes the flame,
The crackling of embers in the big breath of air,
And the confession of the furthermost bounds that swells up.
These three mysteries displaying Banner!
Creation bustles about the exit.
My oath is nothing to throw to the Nettle.


Denis Between The Rusty Words
(Saturday December 17, 2005)
© IDDN 2005

My original poem is into verse 

Setlist from this show : w/ Crazy Horse ; 04-25-1987, Rockodrama, Auditorio de la Casa Camp, Madrid, Spain

Mr. Soul / Cinnamon Girl / When You Dance, I Can Really Love / Down By The River / Heart Of Gold / After The Goldrush / Inca Queen / Drive Back / Opera Star / Cortez The Killer / Sugar Mountain / Mideast Vacation / Long Walk Home / The Needle And The Damage Done / When Your Lonely Heart Breaks / Powderfinger / Like A Hurricane / Hey Hey, My My

Neil Young: vocals, guitar, keyboards, banjo, harmonica
Frank Sampedro: guitar, keyboards, vocals
Billy Talbot: bass, vocals
Ralph Molina: drums, vocals