All One Song - "Ambulance Blues" with Zachary Cale
Welcome back to All One Song, a Neil Young podcast presented by Aquarium Drunkard Transmissions. What are we doing here? We’re talking to some of our favorite musicians and writers about their favorite Neil Young songs.
And we have got a doozy of a Neil Young song to talk about today — “Ambulance Blues”! First appearing as the closing track on Neil’s 1974 masterpiece On the Beach, this is one of the man’s major works, a long, dark dirge that surveys the surreal mid-1970s landscape, from Patty Hearst to Richard Nixon, all accompanied by a brilliantly skeletal musical backdrop from Ben Keith, Rusty Kershaw, Ralph Molina and the mysterious Joe Yankee. It’s a towering tune, haunting and haunted, but also with a glimmer of hope shining through.
“Ambulance Blues” culminates with that cautious hope, with lines that Neil likely wrote with Nixon in mind:
I never knew a man could tell so many lies
He had a different story for every set of eyes
How can he remember who he’s talking to?
‘Cause I know it ain’t me, and I hope it isn’t you
And it was probably that verse that made Neil bring “Ambulance Blues” out of the garage last year to open shows on most of his tour with the Chrome Hearts. Of course, more than 50 years after Neil wrote the song, Nixon’s transgressions seem positively quaint in light of our current president’s ever-expanding list of outrageous crimes. In 2025, that concluding sentiment hit home like never before—a plea to see beyond the endless falsehoods and mirages that plague our lives these days. As Young says elsewhere in “Ambulance Blues”: “There ain’t nothing like a friend who can tell you you’re just pissin’ in the wind.” He was that friend back in the 1970s and he remains that friend today.
It's hard to say the meaning of this song — but here to help us decode the mysteries and metaphors of “Ambulance Blues” today is NYC-based singer-songwriter Zachary Cale. Zach has been making terrific records for more than two decades now, all centered on his expert guitarwork, sweet vocals and piercing lyrics. His latest album, however, doesn’t feature any of the latter element. Love’s Work is a purely instrumental affair, with Cale joined by bassist Shahzad Ismaily, percussionist Jeremy Gustin, pedal steel-ist JR Bohannon and pianist Robert Boston for a collection of gorgeous reveries. But throw a dart anywhere in Zach’s growing discography and you’ll find great sounds, guaranteed.
Bonus Track: Neil debuted "Ambulance Blues" in 1974 and promptly discarded the song for well over 20 years — until a Bridge School benefit show in 1998, where he played it with R.E.M. It's a towering performance, as is Neil's subsequent guest spot on "Country Feedback."
All One Song - "Change Your Mind" with Micah Nelson
I’ve never spoken with Neil Young himself. Maybe that’s for the best — for both of us! (Though, Neil, if you want to talk, just get in touch.) However, over on Aquarium Drunkard, you can check out my interviews with several of Neil’s associates: Guitarist Frank “Poncho” Sampedro; bassist Billy Talbot; and multi-instrumentalist Nils Lofgren. Chatting with these musicians who have spent a good portion of their lives onstage or in the studio with Neil is endlessly fascinating for me … and hopefully it’s endlessly fascinating for fellow obsessives, too. Getting a few peaks behind the curtain into Shakey’s creative process is a total treat, deepening my appreciation and understanding of the man’s art.
That’s why it’s my absolute pleasure to welcome Micah Nelson as today’s All One Song special guest. Since 2014, Micah has served as one of Neil’s closest collaborators, playing guitar first in the Promise of the Real, then in Crazy Horse, and now in the Chrome Hearts. He’s toured all over the globe with Young, delivering epic, deep-cut heavy sets. During that time, he’s appeared on such records as The Monsanto Years, Earth, The Visitor, Fuckin’ Up and last year’s Talkin to the Trees. And oh yeah, he also happens to be Willie Nelson’s kid.
Micah’s work with Neil stretches beyond music; as we get into in our conversation, he was the creative force behind the recent Trans animated film, which brought Young’s misunderstood 1982 LP to life. Micah also makes music on his own under the Particle Kid moniker, and he’s currently working on a new, artists-first streaming and social media platform called The Flow. Check that out at TheFlow.com for more — it’s looking like an extremely cool and extremely timely project.
For his All One Song appearance, Micah selected “Change Your Mind.” This 14-plus-minute tune from 1994’s Sleeps With Angels is one that Micah feels a strong personal connection to, as you’ll hear. It was a blast to dig into it with him, as well as get tons of firsthand insight into working and playing with the man, the myth, the legend, Neil Young. Thanks a million to Micah for taking the time, and thanks to ORG Music’s Andrew Rossiter for making the connection.
PS - Slight technical difficulties on my voice this time around! Thanks to Andrew Horton for working his sonic magic yet again.
Bonus Track: Micah talks about that Amsterdam show in 2016 when the Promise of the Real first played "Change Your Mind." And indeed, it is a monstrous, 3+-hour gig with all kinds of wild setlist choices and performances. You can hear the whole thing via the Timeline Concert series on the Neil Young Archives. Here's that "Change Your Mind" for a taste.
All One Song - "Boom Boom Boom" with Scott Bunn (Recliner Notes)
The concept behind All One Song couldn’t be simpler: I’m spending the spring of 2026 talking to some great musicians, writers and artists about their favorite Neil Young song. Or at least one of them. But even if the concept is simple, one thing is for sure: these conversations go all over the place, kind of like a long Old Black solo on “Like Hurricane.” And that’s how it should be, right?
Now, I’ve been contributing to Aquarium Drunkard since 2012 (!) and I’d like to think that I’m the site’s resident Neil Young aficionado. But I’ve got competition! Scott Bunn is one of AD’s excellent writers, and his Shakey knowledge is extensive.
Over on his Recliner Notes blog, Scott has written a bunch of perceptive and insightful essays that dig into the undiscovered corners of Neil’s catalog … the titles alone speak for themselves: “Don’t Spook the Horse” & the Mountain Funk of Neil Young; “I Have Loved You So Long”: Neil Young, Leonard Cohen & “Greensleeves”; The Last 20 Seconds of “Cinnamon Girl” … my personal favorite is Scott’s exhaustive examination of a true bootleg treasure: the 35-minute version of “Tonight’s the Night” that Neil performed one wild and crazy night back in 1973. Go over to ReclinerNotes.com for all of that and much more.
For his All One Song appearance, Scott picked a truly deep cut: “Boom Boom Boom.” This is a song that you might know better … though not much better … as “She’s A Healer,” which closed out Neil’s 2002 LP Are You Passionate?, recorded with Booker T and the M.G.’s. But “Boom Boom Boom” is the original Crazy Horse version of the song, which was cut in the year 2000. It collected dust (or rust?) in the vaults for more than two decades, but eventually showed up as a highlight of Toast, the legendary lost Crazy Horse album that was finally released in 2022. It’s all a little confusing … and hopefully our conversation doesn’t muddy the waters even further.
But “Boom Boom Boom” is a good reminder that there are so many different and diverse eras of Neil’s career; some may be more fruitful and enjoyable than others, but the journey itself is the point. As we look back over 60-plus years of output, it’s a blast to put the pieces of the puzzle together, to see what weird pictures emerge.
Listen wherever you get your podcasts.
Bonus Track: Neil only played "She's A Healer" a handful of times on the abbreviated Poncho & the M.G.'s tour in 2002. This video from the Rock Am Ring festival in Germany captures one of those performances. Stretching out to 11 minutes, it's a curious thing, full of spacey zones and haunted moments — as Scott and I discuss in the AOS episode, a unique chapter in the Neil saga.
“This week’s guest is a trailblazer, a musical activist, a multi-disciplinary, multi-genre artist who has truly carved her own path of both honoring and celebrating lineage and creating a new one for generations to come,” Carmel Holt says of the guest on the third-anniversary episode of her show Sheroes. “Now nearly two decades into her career, Rhiannon Giddens has become one of the most awe-inspiring and influential artists of our time.” Holt talks with Giddens—who was also the radio show’s first guest three years ago—about her Grammy-nominated new album, You’re the One, and more. You can hear their conversation here.
"Sorry I Haven’t Called was worth the wait, and another cool stylistic leap," Talkhouse host Josh Modell says of the new album from Vagabon (aka Lætitia Tamko), who talks with Jaboukie on the show. “Sorry I Haven’t Called, which was partly produced by former Vampire Weekend guy Rostam, takes things even a step further, with an eye toward something even bigger and bolder. And even though the songs were inspired by a dark time in Tamko’s life, they turned out incredibly buoyant and upbeat.” You can hear the episode here.
"I will ride for My Chemical Romance to the grave, because, from 2002 to 2012, they rode for both you and me."
Horror Movie Marathon | September 26, 2018 | talkhouse.com
On October 16, 2005, my sister and I put on our eyeliner, slid into our mall-goth armor, and drove an hour north to Hartford, Connecticut to see My Chemical Romance for what would be our first time of many. It was still a year before their magnum opus, The Black Parade, was to be released. When the lights came down and the show began, a spotlight emerged at the center of the stage, illuminating only a microphone stand ornamented with a bouquet of dead roses. Gerard Way, the band’s flamboyantly morbid ringleader, stepped out of the stage’s dark abyss looking like a corpse priest, adorned in heavy white makeup and full-on church robes. The band opened with “Interlude,” going right into “Thank You For The Venom.” If you’re an MCR fan, you know how fucking sick of an opener this is. My life changed forever after this concert.
Do you have any idea how satisfying it feels to look a DIY-hipster-judge in the eyes and tell them, in all honesty, that in 2018 your favorite band is still My Chemical Romance? You can learn a lot about someone by their reaction to such an admission. Perhaps such a statement makes me an obnoxious judge in my own right, but the truth is, I will ride for MCR to the grave, because, from 2002 to 2012, they rode for both you and me.
MCR, in all their macabre glory, were unwaveringly dedicated to an ethos of inclusivity and honesty, love and compassion, death and rebirth—the kind of virtuosity that was frowned upon in the popular music of 2005, yet now celebrated in 2018. They flew their freak flag high and encouraged others to do the same, all at a time when that breed of non-judgmental sincerity was viewed as sin by every taste-making music critic in an Animal Collective t-shirt. Now, in 2018, I find myself a 26-year-old musician who has been deeply influenced by their music and message, getting into one intoxicated conversation after another, hoping to spread the gothic gospel of MCR to the remaining non-believers.
When MCR played live, their dedication to the audience was palpable. Like an explosion of wicked cats jumping out of a witch’s cauldron, each band member would erupt with raw energy to give an over-the-top performance of catchy goth punk songs. I believe one of the reasons MCR has retained such a loyal and dedicated fan base is because their wildly emotional performances never felt like a façade; they were keenly aware that it was a privilege to be on stage, and this cognizance of respect manifested itself through the messages of love encoded in their songs and live performances.
This respect for their audience was also evident in Way’s interviews and onstage monologues regarding mental health, accepting other people for who they are, and the hypocrisies of masculinity. Throughout the press surrounding both their major label debut Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge and The Black Parade, Way candidly discussed his struggles with depression and addiction, and his hope that their music could help save other people’s lives as it did his. MCR were always vocal that they wanted their music to save people, which admittedly sounds cheesy at first, but it’s a pretty admirable statement when you know that the majority of the band’s fan base were depressed kids experiencing the world from suburban mall goth purgatory.
The band has earned such respect from their diehard fans that even they don’t want a reunion, unless the band feels that it’s right. As seen in the article recently published by Noisey about MCR’s still very active fan base, some even go so far to say that the band reuniting would be antithetical to their message of death and rebirth, and the positivity of change therein. Literally, how many international superstar bands have fans that are this aware and respectful of the complex relationship band members can have to their music and the message it projects? Most fans of world famous rock bands will sound off in the YouTube comments section with blustery statements of aggravation and entitlement, demanding a reunion show or a new album. But MCR fans? They prefer the band stay broken up because they want to respect the band as much as the band respected them.
Very few of MCR’s peers from the mid-‘00s gave or earned the kind of respect from their fans that MCR did. Rather, many bands that tried to align with MCR’s message and image were essentially selling counterfeit emotion in the form of trendy Hot Topic t-shirt designs, insincere stage antics, and utterly benign, and frequently misogynistic, pop music. In 2018, it is sheer fact that many of those bands were full of shit and exploited the vulnerability that their scene implied to enact gross and predatory behavior.
This is one reason why taste-making machines like Pitchfork and BrooklynVegan were justified in ignoring and condescending the mid-’00s emo cesspool as it germinated throughout malls and low-capacity venues across the country. However, that’s not to say the overly-abstracted, pseudo-intellectual ramblings of mid-’00s Pitchfork hype bands weren’t totally absurd and problematic in their own right. Both music scenes postured a kind of moral code through songs, images, and fashion that signified a certain perspective towards culture and its problems at the moment. But, the reality is that bands from both scenes hardly ever posited their morals or virtues unless the sign of the times directly requested it from them.
This was not the case for MCR. They were just a band of five dudes from New Jersey, but they vehemently promoted equal rights on- and off-stage. Their pop-gothic world of vampires and ghosts, octave slides, and tri-tonal harmony always served a greater message at hand. Their comic book and horror movie-influenced narratives always represented a power in owning the trauma of the past and moving forward towards hope. In being themselves and helping others be themselves, MCR transcended both the hip arena of art-rock coolness and the sewage of Warped Tour residue, flying high in the black sky as one of the greatest rock bands of our time.
Now, it’s 2018. The lot of mid-‘00s hipsters and scenesters has mostly evaporated and come back as other representations. Most of the members of MCR are parents and focus on their own projects: Gerard Way is about to launch a Netflix show based on his comic book series The Umbrella Academy; Mikey Way has been performing as a voice actor; Frank Iero has a punk band that records and tours; and Ray Toro is helping other musicians shred to hell and back as a producer and engineer in his New Jersey studio.
For me, and many fans like me, I am no longer just a fawning teen, but a 26-year-old musician. I use the passion, conviction, and love I learned from MCR as fuel for my own project, Horror Movie Marathon. Very few of the people I collaborate with or know are big fans of My Chemical Romance. Sometimes, people will tell me one of my songs reminds them of this pop group or that folk artist, which is usually very accurate—I essentially make pop-folk music. My admission of MCR’s influence on my music will either be met with a resounding “Hell yeah, ‘Helena’ is tight,” or a recoil and a facial expression that says, “I wish I didn’t just give you the honor of comparing your music to Jon Brion.”
I can’t hide my love for the band, and why would I? Their songs meditate on the horrific beauty of tragedy, and in the tradition of true tragic storytelling, there’s always a viscerally moving message gleaming through the metaphoric language. MCR worked their asses off to make those messages as potent as possible; it was an energy you could hear in their songs and see in their live performances. Through all the morbid metaphors, spooky stories, and dazzling stylizations was an indestructible foundation of love and gratitude for the life-saving spirit of music. Even though the externalities of my music don’t resemble MCR’s very much, their message of love and respect will forever influence the core of what I create.
