In last March issue Uncut , we brought you the inside story on Neil Young’s long-awaited Archives project. We spoke to his friends, colleagues and conspirators and, over the next few weeks on www.uncut.co.uk, we’ll be printing the complete transcripts of these interviews. Previous installments are available by using the links in the side panel on the right. Part 5: COMRIE SMITH Young’s high school buddy in early, short-lived ‘bands’. Also played with Toronto folk-rockers, 3’s A Crowd UNCUT: Tell me about you and Neil before he moved away in 1960. Was he already into music? SMITH: I remember when we were kids I’d meet Neil everyday on the corner to walk to school together and he’d have his white bucks on and his transistor radio just blaring out. He’d say, “Hey Comrie, listen to this one!” He loved the Fendermen with “Good Morning Captain”. I had a Go Bo Diddley album which had the greatest funky guitar song that we used to listen to a lot. He liked Gene Vincent and Link Wray. I had those albums and we’d listen to them all the time. We used to buy records from this little elderly lady at Robinson Radio. Once they were off the hit parade she’d sell them for 39¢. So you could get an Everly Brothers 45 and there’d always be an interesting song on the B-side and we’d listen to those. Neil and I both loved Roy Orbison. We would listen to “Only The Lonely” and “Candy Man” in my living room. We had both started playing earlier with Neil on his baritone ukulele and me with my acoustic guitar. We had thought we would form a group together when we were in junior high but then, of course, he left. I knew Rassy, too, before she and Scott split up. She was a great mom for us in that teenage time. She was very supportive of our musical interests and I understand she did the same for Neil in Winnipeg. Did you remain in touch with Neil after he moved to Winnipeg? Only once [laugh]. It was after Grade 9. Neither of us were terrific students. He sent me this long, scrawly letter – he still writes in that style – about Winnipeg and how cold it was in the winter, stuff like that. And that was about it. We never saw each other until he came back to Toronto in 1965. When he came out he ended up at a friend’s, Richard Mundell’s house in North Toronto. I had an old car, a 41 Plymouth at the time. Neil phoned me one night in the middle of the summer from a party and said, “Bet you thought I didn’t know much about cars. Well, I sure know a lot about them now.” And he told me all about his hearse breaking down. He said, “There’s a party going on here, why don’t you come over and bring your guitar?” So I went over with my guitar and we played. After that he hung out a lot with me at my place with my girlfriend. Neil had left Winnipeg for Fort William (Thunder Bay) with his band The Squires in the spring of 1965 before heading further east to Toronto in late June of that year. The band folded soon after with Neil pursuing a folksinging career. Was this about the time you met up again? Sort of. He still had his Gretsch electric guitar. We had been friends before Neil moved to Winnipeg in 1960 so when he came back we kind of picked up where we’d left off. I was playing in a band that was folding as well so it was just the two of us really. Neil had this idea at the time that the coolest thing in the world would be to have two Martin guitars with d’Armand pickups on them. My girlfriend at that time ended up giving me a d’Armand pickup. But on those tracks Neil’s still playing his electric Gretsch guitar unplugged and I’m on a little Hofner guitar unplugged. Neil hadn’t traded in his Gretsch for a Gibson 12-string acoustic yet. I had been playing for 2 or 3 years in and around Toronto with my own band and various bands basically playing rock ‘n’ roll, not necessarily folk. And I was really into writing songs and Neil was, too. So together our ideas just seemed to work well folkie-wise. Tell me how these tracks – “Hello Lonely Woman”, “Casting Me Away From You” and “There Goes My Babe” – came to be recorded. Those three songs were recorded in the attic of my parents’ house in Toronto, 46 Golfdale Road, and it’s just me and Neil on a couple of unplugged guitars. Neil likes things pretty raw and that’s what those tracks were. We were good music friends. It’s just the two of us and a friend who operated the tape machine. The recordings were made around late August or early September of 1965. There were more than those three songs on the tape. I remember a song of Neil’s called “Betty Ann” that had the line “Betty Ann, if you can, won’t you mend my broken heart again.” Marty Onrot who was sort of managing Neil had him make a tape of his songs around then and I think I heard parts of that. But this is a different tape from that same period. It was kind of a routine for us at night. We’d go to this hamburger place up in Willowdale and get a hamburger around 8 or 9 at night. Then he’d come back and I had my girlfriend’s tape recorder and Neil would fool around on it, all these wonderful monologues on it making up stories about his auditions or pretending he was a club owner telling him, “Hey kid, you don’t need drumsticks. You just need pencils ‘cause you’re too loud,” all in his humorous voice. We had a lot of fun with that. I wish I still had those tapes. So we were up in the attic and there were some heavy vibes going on. There was another guy running the recorder. “Hello Lonely Woman” was kind of an R ‘n’ B number and you can hear Neil’s foot tapping on the linoleum. I felt pretty bad about my playing on the tracks, it wasn’t that good. There was a great version of “High Heeled Sneakers” on that tape but I guess it didn’t get used for copyright reasons. There was another one of Neil’s on the tape called “Don’t Tell My Friends” that was an early Neil Young tune. “Hello Lonely Woman” was a Squires-era song Neil later resurrected with The Blue Notes in 1988 and “There Goes My Babe” was one of his first demo recordings with the Buffalo Springfield” in 1966. But “Casting Me Away From You” remains a mystery. “Casting Me Away From You” I would call a folk song with a little bit of rhythm. It’s in G. The lyrics go, “We used to laugh and play games together; we found things to do in stormy weather. But now I find you’re leaving me behind, casting me away from you.” He remembered the melody years later because on his first solo album there’s an instrumental called “The Emperor Of Wyoming” and that’s the same melody as “Casting Me Away From You”. Did you and Neil continue to hang out that autumn? Neil spent quite a bit of time in and around my place but by then we kind of lost him. After we made those tapes a couple of weeks went by and I couldn’t find him. I had the chance for us to play a couple of places but I couldn’t track him down to get him to play. He was living for a time with Vicki Taylor who was a folksinger in Yorkville. We lost Neil for a time, we didn’t know where he was, but that’s where I found him again; at Vicki Taylor’s. I would knock on the door and ask for Neil. Donna Warner would answer the door and say, “Neil’s not here right now.” I kind of liked her. [Smith later played with Warner in 3’s A Crowd] So I wasn’t sure if Neil was actually living there. Finally I got in and found that Neil was fairly ill at the time with a bad flu bug and stayed there quite a while. There were all sorts of people coming and going through that apartment, Joni Mitchell being one. I talked with [Squires bass player] Kenny Koblun a lot during the time Neil disappeared in the fall of 1965 and he was getting real depressed. Neil kind of dropped him. Kenny was kind of deep and mysterious at times then, pretty introverted. It was rough for Neil at that time. He didn’t really have a place to stay. He could have stayed at our place but he stayed at a few places. I think that’s when his dad made him hock his Gretsch and get a haircut and a job. He moved in with his dad for a while on Inglewood and that was a very disciplined world that he wasn’t used to. When I did finally see him again he had a new winter coat and short hair and he had a job at the Coles’s bookstore on Yonge and Bloor. I went over to see him at the store. He was a stockboy and he was showing me all these funny books. He was telling me, “You gotta get a job, Comrie. You’ve gotta pay your debts,” because I was kind of in hock over guitars and things. So I think his dad forced him to go straight for awhile. That was the message I got. It was frustrating for him in Toronto. He wasn’t very good as a folksinger then. After he left in the hearse I went to Arc Records in Toronto with this tape Neil and I had made of this acoustic stuff. Bill Gilliland who was the record promoter said, “Get your band together and come in and we’ll make some demos’,” but it never happened because people weren’t that big on Neil’s voice. I thought he was great because he had such a melodious approach, melody and chords. At that time it was just chords and words but Neil always had nice melodies. That came from The Shadows but also Neil really liked Floyd Cramer, that piano player who’s famous for those little triple trills that Neil later played in the Buffalo Springfield. At the time did you know that Neil had left Toronto for California? I heard he was in the Mynah Birds. I didn’t realize that Neil had moved quite as quickly into adapting to the Mynah Birds. He played a Gibson acoustic 12-string stuffed full of newspapers to kill all the feedback and he played beautifully. They sounded great. He came around to my parents’ house to say good bye when he had that 1953 Pontiac hearse and was leaving for California. We went for a ride in it. He didn’t try to convince me to go with him. I kind of knew he was thinking of going but I wasn’t sure. He had taken the band’s Ford Econoline van, which I think was rented, out to Pickering. I wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly. He had me follow him in my car out on the 401. He parked the van, he had unloaded all the Mynah Birds equipment, and said, “Okay, let’s go.” We drove through Broughamtown where he had fond memories as a child before driving back into North Toronto. About a week later, or maybe even less, he showed up at my house with Bruce Palmer and they were leaving that night. So how did the 1965 tape come into Neil’s possession? We had this problem for years of not being able to communicate because my letters weren’t getting through to him and nothing was happening. Then in 1997 I picked up the phone one day and there he was saying, “Remember those tapes we made in the attic, Comrie? Have you still got them?” So I took what I could find to his show in Hamilton, he sent some tickets, and I gave him the tape. The next time I saw him was I guess in 2000 in Toronto at a concert and he said, “The Archives are a go ahead!” Did you know that you are playing on Neil’s highly-anticipated massive box set? I didn’t know these tracks were going to be on the box set. No one called me to tell me. I would have thought that someone would have wanted me to sign a release or something. One of my friends said, “Geez, Comrie, get a lawyer.” But right now I’m just trying to get a car. [laugh] Gosh, I sure hope people like those songs. They have a kind of raw appeal. I love those old songs and those old stories not so much because Neil’s so famous now but because it was so surprising. He always wanted to make it big. He really had a fixed eye on where he needed to go. And he knew that writing his own songs was important. INTERVIEW: JOHN EINARSON

In last March issue Uncut , we brought you the inside story on Neil Young’s long-awaited Archives project. We spoke to his friends, colleagues and conspirators and, over the next few weeks on www.uncut.co.uk, we’ll be printing the complete transcripts of these interviews. RANDY BACHMAN Winnipeg’s star guitarist in the early Sixties, revered by Young. Founder of The Guess Who and, later, Bachman Turner Overdive *** There wasn’t a formal introduction when I met Neil: just a bunch of teenage guys learning to play guitar and starting bands and dreaming of being like Elvis or The Shadows. I remember meeting him at a gig I was playing in Winnipeg. Someone introduced him and a couple of his friends he was with. One of them was immensely tall for a teenager and that was Ken Koblun. I noticed at that first meeting, and then subsequent meetings, that Neil had a "look" in his dark eyes. A focused determination of getting to a place far from where he was. I've been told I had the same look. When one knows at an early age that their gift, talent and direction is musical, one tends to focus on that and let nothing interfere or impede the forward motion toward the end of that rainbow. And after 50-something years of rockin’ out, you still realise there is no end to that distant rainbow until one’s last sunset. I saw Neil play many times in several different bands. In those days many band members revolved or went in and out of bands. Some guys didn't have the dream and discipline, some chose sports or girlfriends over being in a band, but the ones who were constant figures in the bands were the ones that made it. No obstacle was too big to overcome. We all had the same issues with parents: girlfriends, education, getting a ‘real job’, playing for the love of it. And as there was no money involved, just living the rock and roll life of living to play and playing to live. So I did see Neil play many times but whether they were called The Jades or The Squires I'm not sure. Later on I do remember Neil Young & The Squires when he took more of an upfront stance in the band and it clearly became his focus. I remember both Neil and Ken coming to many gigs. I was playing a Gretsch 6120 through a Kortung tape deck to get an echo delay, through a Fender Concert amp and playing early Shadows. I remember Neil asking me about the songs and where I got them and how I learned them. I was playing “Apache”, “Kon-Tiki”, “Man Of Mystery” and “Mustang”, and our lead singer Chad Allan was singing Cliff Richard songs like “Living Doll”, “Move It”, “Dynamite”, “Pointed Toe Shoes”, “We Say Yeah” and “Summer Holiday”. We were totally different than any other local band because of this British repertoire we played. Our bass player, Jim Kale, had a Fender Concert Amp which had four inputs and would handle a whole band. When we weren't playing gigs, we'd lend the amp to Neil and his band. A set of drums and a Fender Concert Amp was all you needed for a night of instrumental music. We even plugged a mike into one of the inputs and sang through it at the same time. On Saturday, after watching American Bandstand to see the latest dances and rock bands, it was a ritual for most musicians to take the bus to downtown Winnipeg. The main street there was called Portage Avenue and had two large department stores on it about four blocks apart. The stroll from one called Eaton's to the other called Hudsons Bay was lined with music stores, record shops, clothing stores and restaurants. Most of us were playing catalogue guitars like Sear Silvertones and Harmonys and would walk this strip on Portage Avenue every Saturday and look at the real rock guitars in the windows of the stores. We'd literally stand for hours and stare at the blond ‘Chuck Berry’ Gibsons, the ‘Buddy Holly’ Fender Strats and the ‘Duane Eddy’ Gretsches that were in the windows. Once in a while we'd get brave enough to go in and ask to try the guitar out. There is a great book out called Everything I Needed to Learn I Learned in Kindergarten and I believe that everything I ever needed to learn on guitar was in my first two years of hungry learning: Scotty Moore, Hank Marvin, Chet Atkins, Lenny Breau, Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley. That was my training and I believe it was also Neil’s. When we do a solo today, there are always "quotes" from Hank Marvin and Chuck Berry. We both still have an echo repeat on most guitar solos and use the wang bar more than others do. In 1965, The Guess Who were invited to New York City. Our recording of "Shakin’ All Over" had hit Number One in Canada and made Top 20 in Billboard Magazine. We were on Scepter Records, whose sister label was Wand, which had the monster hit “Louie Louie” by The Kingsmen. We played the whole East coast and Midwest with The Kingsmen tour which also had Dion & The Belmonts, Barbara Mason, Sam the Sam and The Turtles on some dates. When we got back to Winnipeg to go back to school in the fall of '65, we were local heroes. I remember Neil asking what it was like "outside of Winnipeg" and I remember the look in his eyes when I told him how great it was to get out of town, to live the rock and roll life and live by playing music. He left shortly after that and ended up in LA after some brief stops in Port Arthur and Toronto. He came back to Winnipeg briefly for a visit and I remember him playing me and Jim Kale an acetate of the first Buffalo Springfield LP. "Out Of My Mind" was the song I heard first. It was the first time I heard his unique vocals. I said, “Who's that singing?” and he proudly said, "It's me!". You don't have to have a great voice to sing, just a distinctive one. But make sure you say the words clearly and tell a story. Then Buffalo Springfield happened big time and they were so cool. Like the Beatles they had several different lead vocalists and writers and their solos sounded very distinct with Stills’ blues riffs and Neil’s Hank Marvin stylings. Then the next time I saw him was at his house in Topanga Canyon where he played solo at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and was in process of joining CS&N. He was holding out to get his name in the group name and not be just a sideman. He held out and got it and they became CSN&Y. I have accomplished a lot for a kid from Winnipeg but whatever I have done pales in comparison to what Neil has accomplished. He passed me by a long time ago and it’s true that I use his songwriting, guitar playing, lifestyle, his work ethic and his relationship with his manager Elliott (who I've also known forever) as a template to follow. I drop in to see Neil several times a year when he’s on tour. I visited with him at two different gigs at his recent Hammersmith Odeon run in March and we always shake hands, hug each other and say: “I'm so glad you're still doing what you do. And we gotta keep on doing it.” I've been very blessed that he has invited me down several times to his ranch and studio to record and hope to do it again in 2009. I don't feel that my songs are cheap copies of Neil's but more of reflection of some of his attitudes in his songs, more soul, more capturing of great moments of performance and less finicking with "perfection". It makes it more fun. He also doesn't worry about being commercial and getting radio airplay. He just keeps going doing what he does and bouncing around from rockin’ the free world to cool country rock stuff and everything in between. Neil's best qualities are: hard work, honesty, generosity, determination, setting goals to complete each dream and then working step by step to get it done. This was evident when we first met and every time I've seen him since over the years. He has the same determined look and heart of gold. He’s a great friend and recently at his 60th surprise birthday party, many of us got a chance to talk on mike about our relationship with him and it was amazing how many of us have been in his circle for 40 or 50 years. I remember hearing Neil play me both “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing” and “Sugar Mountain” as acetate demos. I also saw him play them live at the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion in Los Angeles in 1971. Neil had got me an appointment After I'd seen his Greendale show a couple of times, I sent an email to him and Peggy and told him about a parallel story happening in my life like the main character and story in Greendale. It was about a pulp and paper mill in Crofton, British Columbia polluting the soil, air and water with their smokestack emissions and killing everything around it. It boiled down to getting the government to put better and stricter zero tolerance laws into place to stop the pollution as the mill was basically complying with the regulations. Out of the blue I got an email from Peggy telling me to come and meet with her and Neil at their Vancouver show. When I did, Neil said, "Let's have a concert to raise money to help the people who are fighting this fight and trying to monitor the emissions from the smokestacks. I can come on this date”. And to my amazement, because of his offer, we put on a concert with Neil, Barenaked Ladies, my son Tal and myself all doing acoustic sets in a hockey rink in Duncan B.C. and raised many hundreds of thousands of dollars for the "Fresh Air" concert fund that is still being worked on and is still a work and fight in progress to this date. I will be forever indebted to Neil and Peggy and their whole crew for their time, talent, compassion and generosity. They do this every fall for a couple of charities and right after our event went on to Farm Aid and The Bridge School event. God Bless them all. I met with Mo Ostin at Warner Bros and Don Schmitzerle at Reprise Records for my new band Brave Belt, which was a country-rock outfit. I had left The Guess Who after the American Woman album and hit single in the summer of '70 and was trying to get back into the rock race. At that time Neil invited me to the Pavilion and I was absolutely amazed. He had sold out several nights in a row and performed solo on guitar and piano. He had the crowd mesmerised. I couldn't believe that this kid from Winnipeg had turned into this artist that had the audience so mesmerised with his music. It seemed so surreal to me. At that concert he did “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing” and then announced that he had written “Sugar Mountain” about a Joni Mitchell connection and while driving in the canyons the other day, he’d written about ten more verses. He asked the audience "Do you want to hear the new verses?” The answer was a resounding yes. And he sang it for about eight minutes with the audience singing along on every chorus. I know he's been working on this complete works [Archives] for decades now, through all kinds of digital conversions and is still gathering the source material. It will be a fantastic treasure of memories over 50 years of music. INTERVIEW BY ROB HUGHES

In last March issue Uncut , we brought you the inside story on Neil Young’s long-awaited Archives project. We spoke to his friends, colleagues and conspirators and, over the next few weeks on www.uncut.co.uk , we’ll be printing the complete transcripts of these interviews. Part Three: RANDY PETERSON Briefly drummer in The Squires. Played on the band’s last-known recording session in 1965 **** Neil would write his own songs, where we’d really practice and work on stuff like “I Wonder”, but he was also very good at doing arrangements for cover tunes. He did a cover of The Kingston Trio’s “Tom Dooley” and you wouldn’t even recognise the song. It didn’t sound anything like the original. It was something totally unique. And I remember him doing a cover of “Oh! Susanna”. It was Neil blending his folk styling with rock’n’roll. I mean, Neil was doing folk-rock before it really happened, as this was back in the early ‘60s. At places like [folk club] the 4D, it was a very laid-back kind of crowd, very earthy. It wasn’t like when we played the community clubs in Winnipeg. I mean, in Winnipeg, you’d play in the high schools, but these community clubs where places where sports teams would play. Then at weekends and on Friday nights, they’d have bands playing there. The other places were the churches and the folk clubs, like the 4D. But typically, you wouldn’t see a rock band playing at a coffeehouse. So The Squires were straddling both camps. I was just being carried along because Neil was doing that. He liked to go to the folk places. When we got to Montreal, we’d play a club called the Penelope. One of the problems I had was that when I was in the band I was only 15 years old. So Neil used to come and pick me up. He was like a big brother to me. My own brother [Guess Who drummer Garry Peterson] didn’t have time for me, because he was on the road, probably with Chad Allan & The Reflections. So I joined Neil’s band while my brother was playing with all the other guys. And they were the top band in the city. But Neil was separate from all the others. He was unique and different. He’d play cover tunes but would play them the way Neil Young does. There were three elements of Neil Young. One was that he’d play cover versions of songs by The Kinks, and songs like “Farmer John”. I mean, that one would go on for fifteen minutes. Secondly, he’d redo cover tunes like [folk song] “Tom Dooley”. And thirdly, he’d write his original stuff. And who else was doing that? No one. He was unique. And of course he had that very trembly kind of voice and would rip up those guitar solos, which would go on for a long time. So when you were in his band, you had to reassess things. I’d played in other bands before, but when I was in Neil’s band it was different to anything else. Neil was a very intense guy. He did his own thing. But maybe because he was like a big brother to me, I was always able to converse with him. I think it worked both ways too, with his father not being around. He was more introverted with other people, but with me he was different. We’d always travel with each other from gig to gig, so I got to know him more openly than some of the other guys. Other people have gotten to know him in a different kind of way since, but I always found Neil to be a good guy. We’d talk about the music he was working on, but the one thing I always remember him telling me was about what his destiny was. He’d always tell me about what he wanted to do and how he wanted to be a star. He was ultimately preparing me for the fact that he was going to leave town and go to the big markets. So he started by going to Eastern Canada, which at the time was the biggest market: Toronto and Montreal. And then, of course, to LA. Was there any doubt at all that he was going to be a star? No, none at all. He was totally committed. And that used to scare the hell out of me because I was the guy who wanted to stay with him. But I was fifteen years old and my mother and father wouldn’t let me go. If I’d been a couple of years older I would have gone. Neil needed to be around good players. A lot of guys were in bands with their friends, and they weren’t always good players. But with Neil you had to be a player. I was a good drummer but I think other guys had difficulties with him because they couldn’t really play their instruments and didn’t add anything to the music we were making. I tried to add to the music rather than trying to upstage Neil. And because I was a lot younger than he was, we had this unique relationship which made it special. We’d practice at Neil’s mother’s house. Neil’s mother was just a hoot. She did her own thing, but was really a nice woman. She was 150 per cent behind Neil, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to support him. We’d run through our material for the upcoming gig, but would also work on his new songs. We’d try stuff out and be very experimental in many ways. So we’d do the cover songs he’d rearranged, practice the Top 40 stuff we were playing and then play Neil’s songs. Randy Bachman was a big hero to Neil. In fact I think he really looked up to The Guess Who as a whole band. He’d try and go see them as often as he could. Neil also really enjoyed a lot of the folk artists. I mean, Canada had some really good folk players, like Ian & Sylvia [Tyson] and Gordon Lightfoot. Lenny Breau was a Winnipeg jazz guitarist who was one of the greatest guitarists ever. I would imagine Neil saw him play too, because Randy Bachman was strongly influenced by Lenny Breau. In fact The Guess Who’s “Undun” was written as a tribute to Lenny. Chet Atkins was also an influence on Neil in that way. Neil had the same Gretsch guitar that Randy Bachman had. The Shadows were a big influence on The Squires. Most people have no idea how good those guys were. As a guitarist, Neil would have been influenced by the same people who’d made an impression on Randy Bachman: Lenny Breau, Chet Atkins and Hank Marvin. I was there when Neil started out singing. I always thought he had style. There are people now who might not think very much of him as a singer or a great guitarist – I mean, he’s certainly not an Eddie Van Halen or an Eric Clapton – but there was always something about Neil. He had style and class. And what he has today is just what he had back in the ‘60s: he always had it. And unless you were a good player and saw the guy play, you wouldn’t know that. So you might hear him play one of those songs at a high school dance or a community club, or even a converted barn, and you’d have to really listen. Neil was an original from the beginning. He’d be doing these extended solos, then get up to the mike and sing. It was a great blend. One of our most memorable gigs was when we played a barn dance somewhere. It was one of those old places with a hardwood floor and was very echoey. Neil was always known for his lengthy guitar solos, so when you got into a place like that, you could really rip the guitar. I remember that night well because it was my first entrée to the hearse, driving up to the place and passing all the equipment up. This great hollow-sounding building lent itself very well to the way Neil played. After the gig, all the people would be hanging around afterwards. It was one of those times when magic was created on the stage. I’ve had no contact with Neil since 1965. He’s said some nice things about me though. One of the things about Neil is that he had a very avid fan club. And they really used to take care of the guys in the band, y’know? But one of the things Neil did was keep me out of trouble. I was too naive to know about all that. I mean, there weren’t really groupies in those days, but you could get into trouble. If your band was good, which we were, you’d always get a following. I suppose it was kind of the start of the groupie thing. But I loved playing in the band with Doug McKenzie, Ken [Koblun] and Neil. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. For me musically, the best time in my life was playing in Neil Young’s band. INTERVIEW BY ROB HUGHES