The London sky was doing that classic British thing—grey and threatening a drizzle. But the second Neil and his band, The Chrome Hearts, hit the first chord of “Like a Hurricane,” you could feel the entire crowd exhale. Sixty-odd thousand people suddenly forgot about their train delays and soggy sandwiches.
Here’s the kicker: Neil, at an age where most folks are perfecting their crossword puzzle form, was stomping on his guitar pedals like a teenager. He didn’t just play songs; he wrestled them.
Guitar Solos as Therapy
You know those moments in life when everything just clicks? A perfect pizza? A sunny day after a week of rain? A nine-minute guitar solo that makes you forget your own name? That was “Cortez the Killer.”
Neil’s guitar wasn’t making polite music. It was shouting, whispering, and then shouting again. You could hear the dust of decades on those strings, and honestly? It made you want to go home and try something ridiculous in your own life—maybe learn the harmonica, or finally paint that fence.
