If you can tell me something about Neil Young’s last two studio albums, you must be a true diehard. In the latter half of this decade, Young has spent so much time preparing his monumental Archives project for various releases that his newer work (2007’s Chrome Dreams II and 2009’s Fork In the Road, in case you were wondering) seemed little more than an afterthought. The albums were affable enough, but lacked the usual brio.

After all, when you come to a Young project, you expect a clear sense of focus on what he’s trying to accomplish. Although his experimental and political fearlessness can make him seem daft at times, it’s also rarely dull. His newest album, Le Noise renews that focus, not by going down an experimental road, but by keeping things powerfully simple.

Working with famed producer Daniel Lanois, who steers clear of any of his more overt production tendencies, but makes sure the album sounds great coming out of the speakers, Young takes on Le Noise all by himself. No band. No bass or drum overdubs. Just the man, his guitars (mostly electric ones), his amplifiers, and a whole bunch of fuzz and feedback.

The first song, “Walk With Me,” sets the rough-and-rumble tone, with one ragged guitar emerging from each speaker and Young’s inimitable and still strong voice arching over it all. He sings urgently as he yearns for someone to share time with him on a journey that’s closer to the end than the beginning. There’s a moment when he wordlessly moans along with the guitars that achieves a bracing intimacy, and it’s just what the doctor ordered after the middling efforts of his recent past.

Those electric guitars are the stars here more than anything else. No solos are taken by Young as a guitarist; this album is all about the ever-loving glory of the riff. The electric songs themselves tend to blend into one another and often take a backseat to that riffage. As a result, there's nothing here that’s going to replace “Powderfinger” on your playlist anytime soon, but when performed with such force, and, yes, focus, these songs collectively pack a wallop.

The two acoustic songs (out of eight total) give Young a chance to be a bit more sprawling with his lyrics.

“Love And War” could easily have devolved into sloganeering had the songwriter not included bits of uncertainty (“When I sing about love and war/I don’t really know what I’m saying”) and honesty in detailing his own mistakes. “Peaceful Valley Boulevard” is the expected environmental plea, tracing the price of progress from wagon trains to global warming. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before, but, as sung in his more vulnerable voice, it’s hard to deny the conviction with which the message is delivered.

Better still is when Young marries the confessional tendencies to the thunder of the electric guitars. “Hitchhiker” is the undoubted standout here, as Young takes the listener on an autobiographical travelogue, with each stop along the way marked by a new drug taken. The details go from striking (“The doctor gave me valium/But I still couldn’t close my eyes”) to humorous (“I thought I was an Aztec”), but the key to the song is the unapologetic way in which it barrels to Young’s standing as a husband and family man even with the excesses of his past nipping at his heels.

A little more of this kind of songwriting acuity to go along with the intensity of the attack could have made this album even more of a revelation, but it’s still a fine return to form. Le Noise stands as the first Young album in quite some time that stands assuredly alongside the legacy of brilliance Young has unearthed in his archives.

SAMPLE LE NOISE

Adobe Flash Required for flash player. "Walk With Me"

Adobe Flash Required for flash player. "Love and War"

Adobe Flash Required for flash player. "Hitchhiker"