By Brian Hunt

I have a friend who is a closet Rod Stewart fan. Closet might not actually be the right word, since he can often be found telling people he's a closet Stewart fan, which really means he's somewhat proud of his love of Hot Rod. There are certain bands and singers that it's just "not cool" to be a fan of, therefore we have to add words like "closet" or "guilty pleasure" as a disclaimer, acknowledging the lack of coolness of the artist to protect our own coolness in the process.

Some artists, no matter how irrelevant to today's music scene, will always be seen as "cool" simply for their kitsch factor. For example, being a huge Duran Duran fan doesn't exactly put you on the cutting-edge of today's music, but it does mean you have a fondness for eighties pop, which carries some level of hipness in its own right. The same goes for digging singers like Poison, Michael Jackson, Billy Idol, or Cyndi Lauper (my personal favorite of the cool, but not-cool artists of that era).

Not that I'm the barometer of what's cool (as my affection for both Batman comics and cancelled television shows will attest), but even the most square of music fans would admit that there are some acts that will never be hip anymore. For example, try this line out at your next cocktail party: "Yeah, I've really been playing a lot of Doobie Brothers lately. There's something about Michael MacDonald's early work that truly speaks to me." (As an aside, however, if you do reference the episode from What's Happening? when Dwayne, Roger and Rerun tried to bootleg a Doobie Brothers concert and then end up backstage with the band only to ask the drummer, "Which Doobie you be?" you are assured to be the hit of the evening.)

What is the point of this diatribe on artist coolness other than being able to reference What's Happening?? The answer, like it should be to many questions, is Neil Diamond. Neil Diamond has been that rare seventies icon that despite his dearth of quality music over the last twenty five years, still remains beloved and for lack of a better word "cool." In the past decade alone, Diamond was worshipped by Jack Black and Steve Zahn in the movie Saving Silverman (in which he made an appearance), "Sweet Caroline" played a prominent role in the movie Beautiful Girls as well as becoming a seventh inning staple at Fenway Park, Urge Overkill covered him for the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, and a West Coast tribute band called Super Diamond has become so successful that they sell out New York's Irving Plaza every weekend they make the trek out east.

When the real Neil Diamond tours, his concerts outsell everyone but the Rolling Stones (in venues much bigger than Irving Plaza). His Christmas album a few years back is one of the largest selling holiday albums of all time (from a Brooklyn Jew no less). Yet, with all this love, his last top 10 hit was "Turn On Your Heartlight" in 1982, a terribly cheesy song inspired by the movie E.T. - The Extra Terrestrial. How uncool is that? But none of this really matters, because Diamond is adored as much for his lack of perceived coolness, as he is for his large cannon of incredibly catchy hits (these two factors can be seen working together in one of his best songs, "Shilo" - a track about an imaginary friend of all things).

This coming November, Diamond is putting his kitsch factor on the line with the release of 12 Songs, his first solo album in four years, and his most promising in almost 30. You see Diamond has paired with renowned producer Rick Rubin, most famously known for launching the careers of The Beastie Boys, and Run DMC and revitalizing those of The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Johnny Cash. Rubin produced "Fight For Your Right To Party," persuaded The Chili Peppers to write "Under The Bridge," and helped Cash cover The Nine Inch Nails. Despite his metal and rap background, he's a life-long Diamond fan, who convinced The Jazz Singer to return to his singer-songwriter roots. Part of this return to basics, included coercing Diamond (after weeks of agonizing) to strap on his guitar and ditch the back-up band for the first time in decades.

In Rubin's own words, "It's mostly acoustic. It's a very personal record. It's stripped-down Neil. I think you'll get to hear him in a way like you've never heard him before or like you heard him a long time ago. But I think it's different from anything you've heard from him before."

You have to love hearing the guy who produced LL Cool J's first album using the phrase, "stripped-down Neil." Does that mean Diamond's losing the sequin shirt as well? Probably. You can't be both kitsch and relevant at the same time - it just doesn't work. But maybe that's a good thing. Before chanting "My Country Tis of Thee..." throughout sold-out arenas, this guy was a songwriter, and evident by his twenty plus hits throughout the seventies one of the best.

I'm sure Neil's bank account doesn't care whether he's considered to be cool, uncool, relevant, or whatever phrase music snobs like myself douse on him. On the flipside, I would guess he also didn't love seeing himself impersonated on Saturday Night Live by Will Ferrell, introducing "Forever in Blue Jeans" with this line, "I wrote this next song after I killed a drifter to get an erection."

The early reports on 12 Songs are that it's a dark, stunning album, reminiscent of Cash's Rubin-produced American III: Solitary Man (the title track was a cover of one of Neil's own biggest hits incidentally). If that's the case, Neil Diamond will remain just as cool today as he's been for the last twenty-five years. Except now it will be as much for his recent work as an artist as it is for his pompadour, puffy shirts, and tribute bands. And that's something both "closet" Diamond enthusiasts and music fans can both look forward to.