Neil Diamond: Home Before Dark

By Steve Morley

Subtlety isn’t a word you often hear in conjunction with a Neil Diamond performance—his weighty baritone imprints everything from his most theatrical ballads to lightweight hits like “Sweet Caroline” and “Song Sung Blue,” longtime fan favorites that are nonetheless disliked by some for their irrepressibly sing-song melodies. Despite Diamond’s indisputable songwriting success, his unselfconscious dramatics and Vegas-styled live shows have also helped earn him the ire of rock critics and hipsters. The vindication process began after 2006’s 12 Songs, an album that stripped away production gloss to reveal Diamond’s personal core. This approach demonstrated that the quirky adult contemporary artist could indeed manage a degree of subtlety, and earn a new level of respect doing so. His follow-up, Home Before Dark, finds him again teaming with respected producer Rick Rubin, who re-established Johnny Cash with a series of similarly skeletal albums. On new tracks that blend longtime Diamond trademarks with a few unexpected turns, the classic pop stylist reveals deeper vulnerabilities than perhaps ever before.

Diamond is his own worst critic on “Act Like a Man,” opening a curtain on his insecurities as an artist. (“Song maker/ You heartbreaker/ You better stop it while you can/ You know you’re just a worthless daydreamer/ But hey, dreamer/ It’s time to act like a man.”) He offers mature and sage advice, though, on the surprisingly bluesy “Slow It Down,” a warning against unchecked ambition that features thoughtful yet smile-inducing lines like “Even Einstein reclined while designing his theory.”

He also comes off as parental on “Don’t Go There,” an admonition against ill-advised romantic commitment. However, the message is one of self-protection, not necessarily principles, as Diamond declares in the final verse: “This ain’t the Bible and it ain’t no moral tale/ If it’s a lesson in survival you can learn it/ If it’s not too late/ But don’t you wait or hesitate/ The lesson’s clear/ You don’t go there.”)

The song’s uncharacteristically swishy rhythm and reedy, pop-styled organ sound more mid-1960s-esque than Diamond’s own ‘60s-era output, as does “Forgotten,” which speaks both to relational issues and Diamond’s identity as a recording artist, thanks to especially clever lyrics that describe him in terms of a packaged product. (“You got me waiting out in the back/ Under a stack/ Stuck in a bin you’ve been keeping me in/ High on a shelf all by myself/ Feeling like I’m doing my time under a sign that reads forgotten.”) 

“Pretty Amazing Grace” has all the earmarks of an inspirational number, and could pass for one, though the qualifier “pretty amazing” that Diamond uses in the title is a tip-off that the song is primarily about the redemptive quality of earthly love. “Came to you with empty pockets first/ When I returned I was a rich man/ Didn’t believe love would quench my thirst/ But with amazing grace/ You showed me that it can.”)  

“Whose Hands Are These” features a more convincingly spiritual lyric, describing a deeply intimate and restorative relationship in deliberately mysterious terms that easily evoke a mental picture of the Creator: “Whose hands are these/ That reach into a secret place/ Whose hands are these/ That brush across my sleeping face/ Like quiet waves on silent shores/ Whose hands are these/ These hands are yours.”)

Throughout Home Before Dark, themes of regret mingle among hope, lending even optimistic songs a weary and bittersweet quality, thanks in part to Diamond’s typically heavy and philosophical bent. As he takes stock of both past and present, he sheds just enough light on himself to show that the artist he is becoming has everything to do―like it or not―with the one he’s been along the way.

Audio Clips

"If I Don't See You Again"

"Pretty Amazing Grace"

"Don't Go There"

"Another Day"