I’ve been a fan for over 33 years, and still, when I listen to his music, I shiver a bit, touched in that core space music reaches. Tonight, watching Jonathan Demme’s brilliant documentary Neil Young: Heart of Gold, I am reminded of Young’s magic, Young’s lyrical brilliance, and Young’s music trance. 
I spent my teen years listening to Harvest, studying the lyrics and how to replicate the licks on “The Needle and the Damage Done.” Young’s notion of “a little part of it in everyone,” a somber warning of what happens if we tip toward the side of lethal glamour, the inevitable fall, resonated deeply, so I studied the song, listening endlessly to it on the turntable; only my desire to try out a part of the song on my guitar interrupted the hours of listening. I would often try to play along with the record, wishing to somehow carry a bit of Young into my hands.
Watching the Demme documentary that captures Young’s show at Nashville's Ryman Auditorium in the summer of 2005 immediately transported me to the live show. Demme is a master at replicating the concert experience, especially noteworthy in his Talking Heads’ testament Stop Making Sense. Since I had seen that show live at Forest Hills, watching the documentary immediately brought me back to the show. I imagine if I had seen the live Nashville shows, I would be saying the same thing.
One of the ways Demme brilliantly captures the magic of Young is through the camera focus. He often moves between Young’s face, eyes closed to the lyrics while his mouth sings to the harmonica, and Young's hands strumming the guitar—simply amazing. He also captures the nostalgic side of Young as he pays tribute to Hank Williams, remarking how he is playing Hank’s guitar, a preamble to his performance of “This Old Guitar”
And so tonight, when the film moves into its second half, Young’s sometimes acoustic trip through older tunes, I am reminded of my earlier meditations, carefully trying to find his spirit as I picked my way through the opening of “Needle and the Damage Done.”