Second Song is neil young and the chrome hearts’ second studio album, featuring guitarist Micah Nelson, organ player/pianist Spooner Oldham, drummer Anthony LoGergo, and bassist Cory McCormick. Following 2025’s Talkin’ to the Trees, it was produced by Young and the legendary Lou Adler at Rick Rubin’s Shangri-La Studio in Malibu, California.
As with any legendary singer-songwriter, an album that cracks every musical knuckle and embellishes skills from a lifetime is a treat. Such is the case for Neil Young’s latest and fiftieth studio album. Later releases from Young, especially his previous debut with new band the chrome hearts, documented his passing achievements and personal chapters through short, on-a-whim folk simplicity. Yet, Second Song is a pleasant refreshment that walks the line between pop perfection and the iconic Young-esque idiosyncrasies. This is especially true of its title track, which spans across 11 minutes and lets go of all lyrical restraint. Here, Young contemplates the fragility of the world and longs for “someone who smiles and answers back…who still remembers some of that I dream a way of living.”
“The Foggy Edge of Time” is possibly one of the most spectacular opening tracks of the year as Young’s mixed melodies shake in a joyfully weathered voice. His honest recall of parenthood, alcoholism, and recovery rings through as hopeful and sets the tone across the short tracklist.
The conversational style of “Day After Day” finds quiet comfort in the rituals of settling down. It’s Young at his most tender and domestic, set in a warm kitchen with a slow confession and a shared life unfolding one morning at a time.
“Earth Girl” showcases how effortless Young’s craft appears, blending multi-voiced choruses with playful guitar-mirrored melodies and strings. It’s hard not to smile through the jovial, mushy sentiments as the love song stretches across 3 verses and a refrain.
“Casting Me Away From You” is one of the more somber tracks on the record, attempting to talk yourself out of loving someone who’s already letting you go—to no avail. “I try to tell myself it doesn’t mattеr/I can find someone who’ll treat mе better.”
As the title suggests, Second Song feels less like a late‑career victory lap and more like a quiet reaffirmation of what has always made Young so timeless and compelling: the willingness to sit inside a feeling until it reveals something true. It’s an album that trusts its own softness, offering a reminder that even after fifty records, he’s still finding new ways to listen, to remember, and to stay open to life.
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