It's fascinating to listen to early Pearl Jam, then the later years, and then contrast it to this album. 

Feels like growing up.  Perhaps I am fortunate to have shared Eddies age, era and outlook at more points than I would care to admit.  Now he's matured, and found, like many of us, that's while brash noise can communicate Jeremy's haunting world, it's like the color red on a painter's palette.  Useful, but not universal.

Beauty, as it turns out, is found not in so much in a blast of color, or frame of the artwork, but in the subtly of substance, context and delivery.

The success of Neil's musical efforts confounds many. I never could figure out what the love/hate relationship was until I realized that the haters were hearing his sound and the lovers where hearing is voice.

You start out listening to music, and you think that good voices sound good and that's what makes them good. And then life doesn't always go your way and you start to grow up and you realize that not everything that is truly great looks good, sounds good or even tastes good. If you listen to Neil Young's sound, you're up for one disappointment after the next, but when you can hear his voice you're ready to appreciate one of the great talents of our time.