NEIL YOUNG - Le Noise

At this point in time, there really is only one icon who can be reasonably seen as a comparable foil to Neil Young: Bob Dylan. Both are so unquestionably woven into the fabric of rock music's influence that it seems patronizing to even point it out, and both have found a way to not only produce excellent late-career albums, but to also follow their muse as they do it (not that those last two things always happen at the same time). With last year's Together Through Life, the law of diminishing returns finally caught up with Bob's recent 'old-timey' fetish, while Neil's last few albums have been patchy at best (Chrome Dreams II), and highly isolating at worst (Fork In The Road).

But perhaps most interesting when comparing these two in their respective twilights is the different ways they handle themselves in the modern world. Despite calling his second most-recent disc Modern Times, Dylan is retreating further and further into a train-hopping comfort zone of 12-bar blues, ragtime jazz, lost 78s, and that ultimate messenger of the days of his youth: the radio show. His successes and failures over the last two decades are pretty much down to how well he interprets that well-worn template.

But Young, despite his well-publicized railing against digital technology back in the halcyon days of the CD, has fully embraced new gadgets to fuel a wildly creative and relentlessly-paced home stretch. Whether ragged war protest albums released a month after they are recorded (Living With War), or compiling his life's musical archives complete with meticulous Blu-Ray editions and endless easter egg videos, the man knows an opportunity when he sees it. The internet age has turned an already restless soul into a pure creature of impulse—one that sits in direct opposition to Dylan's contemplative recreation society.

So what does all of this have to do with Young's latest, Le Noise? For starters, this is the first time that Neil has crossed paths with Daniel Lanois, a man who famously revived Dylan's failing fortunes on two occasions with 1989's dense Oh Mercy and 1997's exceptional Time Out Of Mind. Lanois did this by immersing Dylan in an atmosphere—dark, swampy, and, eventually, mortal. They are both albums with a presence you can feel.

As the title suggests, Le Noise is also an album with strong first impressions, and once again, Lanois takes his charge into a dark, swampy world. But to his enormous credit, this time his methods are very different. Where with Bob he used a full band and cavernous twang to achieve this, Le Noise takes Neil's initial pitch to Lanois—let's make a record with just me and a guitar—and filters it through tons of delays, effects and a monstrous sounding guitar specifically designed by Lanois.

And sonically, the end product is a masterstroke—a near-perfect marriage of Lanois' love of dubby studio trips and Young's love of spontaneous presentation. You've literally never heard Neil quite like this. Thankfully, Young has also brought some of his better recent songs to the table, ensuring that this album is more than just a narcotic studio experiment.

From the hefty drug chronicle "The Hitchhiker" and the seething "Angry World", to the scruffily romantic "Walk With Me" and "Sign of Love", the eight songs on this trim LP are hearty and up to the task. But again, props to Lanois for realizing that no matter how rad his guitar sounds are, we need moments of repose to fully appreciate them. As it turns out, Le Noise's best tracks are its calmest. "Peaceful Valley Boulevard" is a quietly devastating sequel to the themes of "Cortex The Killer", examining North America in the aftermath of treaties, suburbs, and company-led natural rape. But it is the haunted Spanish lament of "Love And War" that rises highest here. As much a critique of himself as anything else, it perfectly pulls at our two most eternally driving forces, summing it all up poignantly with the line: "When I sing about love and war/ I don't really know what I'm saying".

From someone so regularly quoted in the context of both subjects, this could come as a bit discomforting. But then again, that's what we've always loved about Young—he's a guesser. If Dylan has been the cool brains behind the model 20th-century songwriter, then Young has been its feisty, feeling heart. Quick to anger, but just as quick to love, he is most remarkable for his ability to channel his natural talents into whatever desire is flowing through his veins at that exact moment. It's a method that has produced its fair share of missteps, but then again, few people are as right as Young when he nails it. With Le Noise, he has driven a spike clean and flush into the wood.