A Wild Hymn to Freedom and Flesh: Neil Diamond’s Celebration of Raw Humanity
When Neil Diamond released “Crunchy Granola Suite” as part of his 1971 double live album Hot August Night, he was already a titan of American songwriting. The performance, recorded at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles, captured Diamond at the height of his powers — a showman equally feral and tender, commanding both orchestra and audience with an almost evangelical intensity. While the studio version had first appeared on his earlier 1971 record Stones, it was the live rendition that became emblematic: a jubilant, rhythmic invocation that surged beyond the pop charts into something elemental. Though it wasn’t released as a major single, its presence on Hot August Night — which itself reached multi-platinum status and cemented Diamond’s reputation as one of the era’s great live performers — transformed “Crunchy Granola Suite” into a kind of manifesto for his earthy, life-affirming artistry.
At its heart, “Crunchy Granola Suite” is Diamond’s ode to the unvarnished self — a pulsing fusion of folk-rock rhythm, percussive guitar strums, and raw vocal delivery that preaches liberation through authenticity. The title itself, tongue-in-cheek yet sincere, evokes the 1970s countercultural shift toward natural living and personal awakening. But Diamond doesn’t simply romanticize this ethos; he electrifies it. The song thrums with bodily energy — syncopated handclaps, driving basslines, and bursts of brass that feel more like declarations than accompaniments. It’s as if he’s baptizing his audience in sweat and sunlight, urging them to shake off the trappings of modern malaise and rediscover their primal pulse.
Lyrically, Diamond crafts a tableau where individuality is sanctified. His language teems with tactile imagery — sensations of touch, hunger, motion — all arranged in a suite-like progression that mirrors life’s physicality. Beneath its playful exterior lies a spiritual core: this is not rebellion for rebellion’s sake but renewal through reconnection. In typical Diamond fashion, he bridges secular ecstasy and metaphysical yearning; the human body becomes an instrument of transcendence. Every rhythmic break feels like a breath drawn in gratitude for being alive.
Musically, “Crunchy Granola Suite” is built on contrasts: precision against abandon, orchestral polish against street-corner grit. The arrangement surges between tight control and unleashed groove, reflecting Diamond’s own artistic tension between Brill Building craftsmanship and instinctive performance energy. In Hot August Night, this tension reaches its purest form — the live crowd roaring back every beat as if swept up in revival. Few songs illustrate so vividly why Diamond’s concerts were described as spiritual experiences disguised as pop spectacles.
Over time, “Crunchy Granola Suite” has come to symbolize the untamed edge within Neil Diamond’s otherwise meticulous catalog — a reminder that beneath the sequins and spotlight stood a man who believed fervently in music’s power to heal through heat, rhythm, and truth. It remains one of his most kinetic statements: part sermon, part street dance, wholly alive.