On ‘Talkin to the Trees,’ the Old Loner Sounds Loose, Family-Haunted and Unbothered by Polish

Neil Young has spent the last six decades making records that sound exactly like whatever he was thinking at the time. Talkin to the Trees, his 2025 album with The Chrome Hearts, is no different. It is a scruffy, restless, and often lovely collection of ten songs that bounce between tender folk, ragged rock, and the kind of pointed protest writing that has defined his late career. It is not a polished record, and it does not want to be. It wants to be honest, immediate, and a little bit strange.

The album arrives with a Metacritic score of 71, which places it in “generally favorable” territory. That number feels right. This is a good Neil Young record, not a great one, but it has stretches of genuine power and a few songs that will sit comfortably alongside his best work from the last decade. The through-line is gratitude and alarm. Young is thankful for what he has, and worried about what is coming.

Family Life Opens the Record

The record opens with “Family Life,” a short song that sets a warm, domestic tone before the storm arrives. It is a small, unassuming piece about the comforts of home, and it works because Young plays it straight. No irony, no wink. Just a plain statement of what matters. It is the calm before the record gets thornier, and it earns its place as the opener.

“Dark Mirage” follows as the longest track on the album. This is where the record starts to show its teeth. The song is a slow-burning, mid-tempo burner with a lyric that suggests something beautiful is actually a trap. The Chrome Hearts lock into a heavy, hypnotic groove, and Young’s guitar work is sharp and wiry. It is one of the strongest songs here, and it demonstrates that the band is not just a backing unit but a genuine force. They push Young, and he pushes back.

First Fire of Winter Shifts the Mood

“First Fire of Winter” is the record’s first real shift in mood. It is a folk-leaning track, built on acoustic guitar and a melody that feels ancient. The title suggests renewal and destruction at once, and the lyric plays with that tension. It is a quiet song, but it is not a soft one. There is a chill in it, a sense that the warmth of “Family Life” was temporary. This is the song that most clearly connects to the environmental themes that run through the record. It is a warning dressed as a lullaby.

“Silver Eagle” is shorter and more direct. It is a compact rocker with a simple, driving riff. The eagle is a loaded image in American music, and Young uses it to gesture at both freedom and decline. The song does not overstay its welcome. It gets in, makes its point, and moves on. It is not a highlight, but it is a solid piece of the record’s middle section, and it keeps the energy up after the introspection of “First Fire of Winter.”

Let’s Roll Again Carries the Protest

“Let’s Roll Again” is a taut, angry rocker that channels the spirit of Young’s classic political material. The title is a direct call to action. It is not subtle, and it is not meant to be. Young is furious, and the band matches his intensity with a chugging, relentless rhythm. This is the song that will get played at rallies, and it should be.

“Big Change” follows as the shortest track on the album. It is a blunt, almost slogan-like song that spells out the record’s central demand. The lyric is simple: things need to change, and they need to change now. It is not the most artful song Young has ever written, but it has the force of a conviction. It is the kind of track that works better in the context of the album than on its own. As a standalone statement, it is thin. As a piece of the whole, it makes sense.

Talkin to the Trees Gives the Record Its Name

“Talkin to the Trees” is the title track, and it is the strangest thing on the record. It is a surreal, almost whimsical song in which Young addresses the natural world directly. It could be a children’s song, or it could be a meditation on isolation. It is probably both. The production is sparse, and Young’s voice is mixed high and dry, which makes the song feel intimate and slightly unhinged. It is a gamble, and it mostly pays off. It gives the record its name and its weird heart.

“Movin Ahead” is the penultimate track, and it is the most straightforward rock song on the album. It is a clean, driving number about forward momentum. The lyric is optimistic, which is a relief after the darker stretches of the record. The Chrome Hearts sound loose and confident here, and Young’s solo is sharp and economical. It is not a revelation, but it is a welcome burst of energy before the record winds down.

Bottle of Love and Thankful Close It Out

“Bottle of Love” is a mid-tempo track that sits in the middle of the record’s emotional range. It is neither a high point nor a low point. The song is built on a simple metaphor, and Young works it for all it is worth. It is pleasant, and it is forgettable. It is the kind of track that fills out an album without defining it. It does not hurt the record, but it does not elevate it either.

The closer, “Thankful,” is the record’s final statement, and it is a good one. It is a gentle, acoustic-driven song that returns to the gratitude of the opener. The lyric is direct and unadorned. Young is thankful for his life, his family, and his music. It is a fitting end to a record that has spent its runtime oscillating between anger and appreciation. The album begins at home, wanders through the dark, and returns home at the end. It is a circle, and it is a satisfying one.

The Chrome Hearts Hold It Together

The Chrome Hearts deserve a significant share of the credit for this record. They are not a faceless backing band. They are a tight, responsive unit that knows when to push and when to pull back. The rhythm section is locked in throughout, and the guitar interplay between Young and the band is consistently sharp. On songs like “Dark Mirage” and “Let’s Roll Again,” they sound like a band that has been playing together for years, not a pickup group assembled for a session. They give the record a live, in-the-room feel that suits Young’s voice and his current mode of working.

The production is deliberately rough. Nothing here is polished to a shine. The drums sound like drums, the guitars sound like guitars, and Young’s voice is right up front, warts and all. It is the right call. A record this personal and this pointed would be ruined by slick production. The roughness is the point. It makes the record feel urgent, like these songs had to come out now or not at all.

Critics Weigh In

Mojo called the album “a simple pleasure, a port in the storm in these troubled times.” Rolling Stone described it as “a deliberately spiky songbag from a man who remains miraculously undiminished as a live performer.” Both reviews capture different sides of the same record. One hears comfort; the other hears grit. Neither is wrong.

Critics have given the album a “generally favorable” reception, describing it as a varied, sometimes jarring but ultimately rewarding late-career effort with strong protest songs and environmental themes. That consensus matches the listening experience. The record asks for patience, and it rewards it.

• Album: Talkin to the Trees — Neil Young & The Chrome Hearts
• Release: 2025
• Tracks: 10
• Metacritic: 71/100

2025 album · album review · folk rock · Neil Young · protest music · The Chrome Hearts