PG Music Home Forums General Discussion Off-Topic Story behind the songs. Neil Young

I didn't write this. When I bought these albums they were transformational to me. I learned so many of these songs on my guitar while listening to the music in my bedroom.


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Danny Whitten was twenty-six when he helped Neil Young create magic.

Picture a small club in Los Angeles, 1968. Three guys from Ohio are on stage, barely scraping by. They call themselves The Rockets. They're good, but nobody cares.

Then Neil Young walks in.

Young had just left Buffalo Springfield. He was hunting for a sound – something raw and electric that matched the music screaming in his head. When he heard Danny Whitten's guitar, he knew he'd found it.

"Want to jam?" Young asked after the show.

That question changed everything.

Within months, Whitten was playing second guitar on "Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere." The album that made Crazy Horse legendary. Danny sang lead on "Cinnamon Girl." His guitar danced with Young's on "Down by the River" – ten minutes of hypnotic genius that would inspire grunge bands twenty years later.

But here's what made it special. Danny didn't try to outshine Neil. He filled the spaces. He created walls of sound that let Young's solos fly. Two guitars becoming one voice.

Critics heard it immediately. Fans felt it in their bones. This wasn't just a backing band. This was chemistry.

Danny had been fighting rheumatoid arthritis since he was young. His knees burned with constant pain. When someone offered him heroin, he discovered it made the agony disappear.

The relief was instant. The trap was invisible.

By 1970, during sessions for "After the Gold Rush," Danny's addiction was eating him alive. Young kicked Crazy Horse out halfway through recording. But he couldn't stay away from Danny's voice. He brought him back for harmony vocals on five songs.

Watching his friend destroy himself, Young wrote "The Needle and the Damage Done." Every line pointed straight at Danny.

"Every junkie's like a setting sun."

In 1971, Crazy Horse made an album without Neil Young. Danny wrote five songs, including a heartbreaking ballad called "I Don't Want to Talk About It."

He'd written it after a fight with his girlfriend. She said he couldn't express his emotions. The accusation crushed him. He sat down and wrote the song in minutes – a man so broken he can only ask you to listen to his heart.

When Rod Stewart covered it in 1975, it hit number one worldwide. Millions bought the record. Danny never saw a penny. He was already dead.

By late 1972, Danny's addiction had won. Crazy Horse replaced him. He was drifting, lost, desperate.

Then Neil Young called.

Young was preparing his biggest tour ever. "Harvest" had made him a superstar. He needed a rhythm guitarist. Despite everything, he offered Danny the job.

"One more chance," Young thought. "Maybe this will save him."

Danny showed up at Young's house for rehearsals in November 1972. But the person who walked in wasn't the musician Young remembered.

Danny couldn't remember the songs. Couldn't keep time. Couldn't figure out simple chord changes. He sat there like a ghost while the band played around him.

Young had sold-out arenas waiting. Millions of dollars at stake. A reputation to protect.

On November 18th, he made the hardest decision of his life.

"Danny, it's not working. You're not together enough."

Young handed him fifty dollars and a plane ticket back to Los Angeles.

Danny's response broke Young's heart: "I've got nowhere else to go, man. How am I gonna tell my friends?"

Then he was gone.

That night – the same night he was fired, the same night he landed in LA – Danny Whitten took his last breath.

The coroner said it was Valium and alcohol. Not heroin. Danny had been trying to get clean, using other drugs to manage his pain and addiction. One miscalculation. One fatal combination.

The phone rang at Young's house.

"Danny Whitten is dead."

Young had to walk straight from that call onto the biggest stages of his career. Every night, he played to thousands while grief and guilt tore him apart inside.

"That blew my mind," Young said years later. "I loved Danny. I felt responsible."

Months later, Young's roadie Bruce Berry – who Danny had introduced to heroin – also overdosed.

Two friends. Two funerals. All because of a needle.

In 1973, Young locked himself in a studio with what remained of Crazy Horse. They recorded "Tonight's the Night" – a raw, drunk, devastated album dedicated to Danny and Bruce.

It sounds like an exorcism. Because that's exactly what it was.

On one track, "Come On Baby Let's Go Downtown," Danny's voice appears one last time. Recorded live in 1970, it captures him at his peak – confident, powerful, alive. It's how Young wanted people to remember him.

Years passed. The guilt never left.

"You only get one musician in your life who you really connect with," Young said. "For me, that was Danny Whitten."

Meanwhile, "I Don't Want to Talk About It" kept finding new audiences. Rita Coolidge sang it. The Indigo Girls covered it. Over 120 artists recorded versions.

Millions of people have cried to Danny's words about heartbreak. Most never knew his name.

Here's the crushing irony. Danny didn't die from heroin. He died trying to get better. Using Valium to manage withdrawal. Drinking to numb the pain. Fighting to become the musician Young needed him to be.

On the day he lost his last lifeline – his place in the band that gave his life meaning – he made one mistake with dosage. One combination that stopped his heart forever.

Danny Whitten died at twenty-nine with nowhere else to go. But his music survived. His guitar still mesmerizes on "Down by the River." His voice still soars on "Cinnamon Girl." His ballad still breaks hearts around the world.

The needle took his life. But it couldn't touch his songs.

Neil Young carried that November phone call for fifty years. The decision that haunted him. The fifty-dollar bill. The plane ticket. The friend he couldn't save.

Sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes second chances come too late. Sometimes the damage goes deeper than any music can heal.

But Danny's voice lives on. In every note Young plays. In every harmony that fills the spaces between sounds. In every broken heart that finds comfort in a song about being unable to speak.

The needle and the damage done. But the music – somehow, always – survives.

#DannyWhitten #NeilYoung #CrazyHorse #MusicHistory #Addition
~Forgotten Stories

Cool story that I only knew parts of. The summer of 1974 I borrowed a vacationing friend's extensive Neal Young LP collection and learned every song. FWIW, Neal sings lead on "Cinnamon Girl" and Danny sings the (memorable) high harmony. Killer song.

Another sad story about drug usage and death.
I was extremely fortunate to have two musicians that I connected with and even though they were not druggies both have died early in life. I know how Neil feels.

A great story, Herb, and one that I wasn't really aware of. Neil's music has always been outstanding.

He was definitely one of my early influences. In highschool, we had to visit with our assigned guidance counselor to see if the courses we were taking were compatible with our goals and would provide a base for the college route in the future. So imagine how my guidance counselor felt when she asked me what I wanted to do after highschool and I said I wanted to be a musician like Neil Young. Silence for a few seconds ... Ummm, ok.... More silence.... Have you considered a college that specializes in music?