“Americana? Isn’t he really a rock guy?” some of you might say. Sure, some of the time, maybe most of the time. But when he sat down in the BBC’s Radio Theatre studio way back in 1971, with his long hair, his clothes (including the boots and the later-to-be-ubiquitous tartan flannel shirt), his Martin D-45 (a gift from Stephen Stills a couple of years earlier), his harmonica and that oh-so-distinctive shaky, high-tenor voice, he was setting out a template for a strand of grungy male singer-songwriters that would remain in place for the next half-century and beyond. Americana? Definitely. A great version of one of his greatest songs.
I remember watching this first time around, it set me and a bunch of youthful comrades along the Americana path, ditching our prog rock albums to discover, via Neil, Dylan, The Byrds,The Burritos and more.