He might be a musician in the twilight of his life, but Neil Young can still knock you back just like he did when he first hit the stage almost 50 years ago. And he makes it look easy - that humble, shaggy-dog swagger, the virtue of cleverness in simplicity. "Waging Heavy Peace," Young's new memoir, is successful for similar reasons. It's endearing just how surprisingly unassuming, and willing he is in telling his story.

Read an excerpt from "Waging Heavy Peace"

"Waging Heavy Peace" falls on the heavier side of rock n roll memoirs at 500 pages. Young meanders from talking about music, to his admittedly crazy ideas for eco-powered classic cars, to his family and medical conditions, including polio, epilepsy, and a brain aneurysm. Young likes to refer to himself as a crazy idealist, and even sometimes, still, a hippie. The book is filled with the rocker's plans for everything from his personal archives, to his charity foundations to feature films.

A first time author, Young wrote his memoir as things naturally came back to him, just as he likes to live his life. Young's a gleeful walking contradiction, and he seems at peace with that. Having never written a book, or ever been "much of a reader," Young reportedly rejected more than half the edits to his manuscript.

"Writing is very convenient, has a low expense, and is a great way to pass the time," he writes. "I highly recommend it to any old rocker who is out of cash and doesn't know what to do next."

Just like much of his enigmatic music, Young leaves much to be interpreted in "Waging Heavy Peace," presenting his story through a series of episodes from his remarkable career. But there are still plenty of gems of wisdom and revealing anecdotes hiding in the clouded rough of his brain.

Young relates his struggles with anxiety in his youth, and addiction to smoking marijuana. The songwriter apparently had trouble completing even the simplest of tasks in public, like going to the store. Young "couldn't even handle the detail in the hallways, in the aisle ways - all the packages and everything used to just freak me out," he writes. Eventually, about halfway through the shopping trip, he would drop everything and need to leave the store.

Now, for the first time since 17, he's sober. "You know, I might have been an addict," he says, "but I didn't have the gene problem, where you really turn out to be an alcoholic. I just decided if I was going to stop smoking weed, I'd stop drinking, too."

The book's philosophical title comes from a conversation about Pono, his almost foolishly ambitious project to restore full audio quality to digital music. Without full audio quality, he says, music won't take you into "the spirit world." That seems to illuminate much of what continues to be so charming about Young, balancing idealism with profound, universal truths. Even if they are hippie-truths.

More surprising facts from "Waging Heavy Peace," via NPR:

On his quadriplegic son, Ben, who has cerebral palsy

"He's very happy. He doesn't see it like we see it. He's living his life one day at a time, one moment at a time. Events keep happening. We keep doing things. We take him everywhere with us. His life is full, robust, got a lot of people around it. He's been the way he is for 35 years or so, and he's never known it another way, so he's doing great. We're very happy to have our spiritual guide along with us. He doesn't say much, but he speaks volumes with his eyes and with his movements and by the feeling that comes from him. He's just a blessing. He's given our lives a lot of depth."

On writing music and guitar distortion

"I try not to think while I'm doing it. Hopefully, I'm completely gone somewhere and I'm just making a sound, and I just like to hear the sound. So it's all about having a good time and making a sound, but you really have to have a reason for making the sound. So that's why I write songs and the songs have got the message. But after a while, you forget about the message - you just get the sound going, and then the two things go together, and then if you're lucky, you write another song. There has to be something to say that gives validity to what I'm playing, so that you can't just play for the rest of time."

On collecting recordings through his Pono audio system

"I mean, I'm an artist. I created my stuff - I don't want to just throw it away. I'm not like a record company. Some of the record companies that created some of the greatest art that I remember - they didn't take care of it, so nobody knows where it is. People didn't realize how great it was, so you can't find it. And we discover some of these things - as we're looking for contemporary or even, in many cases, much more accomplished artists than myself - have got great recordings and legacies of great recordings. And we're looking for those in connection with my Pono Music System, so that we can capture those and preserve them for future generations to be able to hear them at the highest level of technology that we have today. I value the works of artists. I value the sound of recording. I think that music recording is an art form, so I want to make sure that art form survives."

On performing 1971's Live at Massey Hall concert in Toronto

"First of all, the concert was a great time, because I was like coming home. The last time I'd been in Toronto before that, I was basically living on the street, and I had a flat that I was living in that cost like $12 a week. I had a little hotplate - cooked beans and stuff in my room. I'd really tried to get gigs as a folksinger and didn't do too well at that, so it was my formative time. So I wasn't a big success the last time I was there before this visit, so going back there and playing at Massey Hall and having a couple sold-out shows in one day - it was a real rush. So there was a great feeling. And plus, being Canadian and having reached a certain level of success in the States - it was a big deal, and I was in my early 20s. So when I showed up there, it was like all the Canadian kids that were there - they felt like, 'If this could happen to this guy, this could happen to me. It could happen to anybody.' Sort of a celebration of Canadian spirit."