Ned Doheny – Ned Doheny
“I’ve been left out in the rain / If it were up to me the sun would shine again”
I owe a lot to Barney Hoskyns. His hit book Hotel California tells the story of the singer / songwriters and cocaine cowboys of the LA Canyons. From Zappa to CSN, The Eagles and back again. It’s a riveting read that lets you ride the rollercoaster that was Canyon rock & roll. His greatest gift, however, was introducing an audience to an artist less known than some of his chart topping, pill popping LA peers. Do not, I beg, confuse fame for respect and talent. Not in this instance at least. Ned Doheny may not have hit the high notes in the hedonistic hierarchy that was 70’s pop culture, but he damn sure hits every single one in this riveting self-titled offering.
The record opens with that acoustic hum so associated with the Canyons at the time. “Fineline / Tell me, where does the money go?” Ned sings sweetly as the overture bursts into an explosion of funk and feels. It’s Steely Dan meets the Allman brothers. Beat by beat Ned bats the chorus out of the park as he transcends into a middle eighth that wouldn’t be remiss on a blues greatest hits album.
We drop down for I Know Sorrow as jazzy tones vie with blues piano for centre stage. “The feeling comes and goes” sighs Ned. You ask the same question, as you try to imagine this musical masterpiece being created. Doheny is a glorious composer and perhaps a better singer. The song takes sorrow literally, before the cataclysmic crescendo that rounds off another world beater.
The start of Trust Me is the antithesis of the playful piano that ends the previous track. The guitar is on par with Taylor. The ivories with Browne. The arrangement with Zevon and the voice with almost anyone. “Is there nothing I can do? Can you here me?” he begs with sustained agitation. Doheny slams the high notes before bringing the show down like an aristocat, the melancholic saxophone whisking you away from 1970s California to 1930s Paris.
On & On packs a punch. It’s angry. Intense. Nostalgic. “I’ve been left out in the rain / if it were up to me the sun would shine again”. A thunderous rock & roll number, acoustically led with electric undertones blasting to life in the chorus. The harmonies are on point and that’s no surprise – Mama Cass is on backing vocals. Nice.
Ned’s in his groove now. We start this as we finished the last. An explosion of eclectic tastes and sounds as Doheny takes us on a journey down to Lashambeux. I Can Dream is up next. Ned plays the pied piper, whisking the listener away from reality, begging us to transcend into a time gone by.
Now, the jewel in the crown. The masterpiece. Books should be written about Postcards From Hollywood. The jury is out as to whether it was this song or Helen of Troy that launched a thousand ships. It’s folk, jazz, rock, roll, soul, all rolled into a four-minute mesmerising melody. It’s a crime that it never garnered the mainstream respect it deserved. Many of Ned’s peers would have given all they had to conjure up such a work of art. Many of them should have.
Take Me Faraway does exactly that. It takes you to another time. It’s ’73. I’m at a party. It’s Frank Zappa’s house. I’m flying high and the stars above are shining brightly onto the stars below. I’m content, yet sorrowful. At peace but disturbed. “Like shells beside the sea, that stumble in the sand, and sleep where ancient rivers ran”. Yep. I’m all in.
“I wasn’t always on this road / But it seems like I’ve been gone forever”. This encapsulates the mind-set of any lost poet or dreamer, constantly stuck in a rut, on the wrong path from the one where he feels he’s meant to be. “How long did you think this would last?”. Not this long, that’s for sure.
The sorrowful, delightful journey ends exactly where it should. The LA Canyons. “Standfast / Don’t you let them put you down”. It wraps the feeling of the time up into a devastating love song. “Tears have chained you / Maybe Love Can Pull You Through”. Ned gets off his knees as the album makes a final attempt to break free, from the sorrow that encapsulates it, into the light. And it does. And it stays there. Ned leaves us with a smile on our face and a tear in our eye, wondering what dreams and wonders that once were that we left behind.
Read the book. Listen to the album. Never look back.
The French Inhaler.
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