Profile: Neil Diamond

NOT so very long ago, the only contact with Neil Diamond most young people would admit to was when their drunken uncle belted out 'Cracklin' Rosie' at family gatherings. But suddenly – at the age of 67 – the rasping singer, known as the Jewish Elvis, has become achingly hip. Like Dolly Parton and Tony Bennett, Diamond, who has sold 120 million records worldwide, has crossed over from kitsch to cool.

Having ditched his sequined shirts for more sober attire (for promotional purposes at least), and produced a pared-down and critically-acclaimed album, 12 Songs, he has now achieved the credibility he so desperately sought in his younger years. With his latest album, Home Before Dark, already topping the US charts and due to be released in the UK tomorrow, and with a Glastonbury slot likely to secure him a new generation of fans, Diamond is experiencing something of an Indian summer. His show at Hampden Park in Glasgow on June 5 is sold out.

Not that the late blossoming of his career is likely to make him giddy. Diamond has always been a glass half-empty kind of man. "I'm one of those guys who can't get rid of that melancholia," he says. "When good things happen, I don't take them too seriously. I feel maybe they'll be taken away."

To be fair, Diamond was never a figure of fun in the style of Barry Manilow; he always skirted round the edges of respectability, revered by edgier stars, yet never really part of their inner circle. When The Band held their farewell concert in San Francisco in 1976 – an event recorded in Martin Scorsese's film The Last Waltz – he was up there with the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison. His songs have been covered by Deep Purple, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash and UB40. Yet in the Rolling Stone History of Rock and Roll, he is dismissed as a singer who "sold millions of records to a market hungry for maudlin middle-of-the-road pop rock", and he has yet to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

The Band's leader Robbie Robertson tried to explain this contradiction. "When I worked with him on his record, people said: 'Is this a put-on?' No it wasn't. This guy is really good at what he does. He's a phenomenon in his own kind of way and he's written a lot of great songs. But they were just a little bit on the other side of the tracks… He was never the critics' darling because he didn't fit in with what was deemed cool."

To a degree Diamond blames his cheesy image on his taste in clothes. Like Johnny Cash, his shirts were his trademark. But while Cash's devotion to black lent him an air of gravitas, Diamond's increasingly flamboyant creations – opened far enough to reveal his chest hair – made him seem like a throwback. If the shirts seemed evidence of his naffness, however, they were also an act of defiance. "The shirts became a rebellion for me, a way of separating myself from a group that would not accept me anyway," he once said.

Perhaps a greater clue to his lack of credibility is that he never bought into the rock'n'roll lifestyle enjoyed by his peers. He didn't take drugs or sleep with groupies. He married his childhood sweetheart Jaye Posner when he was 22 and had two children. They divorced six years later and he wed Marcia Murphey. Their marriage lasted 25 years and produced two more children. And their divorce – when it came – was amicable by showbiz standards. They settled out of court, splitting Diamond's £150m fortune straight down the middle. "Marcia was worth every penny," he said afterwards.

Diamond was born in Coney Island, Brooklyn, the son of Jewish immigrants who ran a clothing store. After attending the same school as Neil Sedaka and Barbra Streisand, he went to New York University and began studying to become a doctor. But his love of music soon came to dominate his life and he dropped out to become a Brill Building songwriter. It wasn't long before his songs, including 'I'm A Believer' and 'A Little Bit You, A Little Bit Me', were propelling The Monkees to fame.

In 1966, he signed his own recording deal and produced a string of hits, including 'Solitary Man', 'Cherry, Cherry' and 'Kentucky Woman'. His move to LA in the early Seventies spawned a second wave – 'Cracklin' Rosie', 'Holly Holy', 'Song Sung Blue' and his signature song 'Sweet Caroline', which he recently revealed was inspired by a photograph of Caroline Kennedy.

Even at the height of his fame, however, Diamond was conscious of being an outsider. "The Beatles ruled the world and here I was, another guy with sideburns and a guitar, Elvis, 10 years later. Nobody was really paying attention, not even my manager," he said. By the Eighties – when Diamond starred in the remake of The Jazz Singer – he was already seen as strictly for knicker-throwing women of a certain age. The film was panned, earning Diamond the inaugural worst actor Razzie, but the soundtrack produced three top 10 singles.

Arguably, the seeds of Diamond's rehabilitation were sown when Quentin Tarantino chose Urge Overkill's cover of 'Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon' for one of the most memorable scenes in Pulp Fiction – the one where Uma Thurman was dancing about in John Travolta's overcoat – in 1994. His profile was further enhanced when his song 'America' was used in promotional adverts for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. But it wasn't until Diamond teamed up with producer Rick Rubin for his 2006 album 12 Songs that his transformation was complete. Rubin, who was responsible for Johnny Cash's renaissance, stripped Diamond's music of overblown orchestration, encouraging him to play his guitar – something he had not done in years. "The vocal performances he got out of me are better than I've heard in a long time, because Rick was trying to involve the artist and the instrument as one and it became real intimate," Diamond said.

His latest album, Home Before Dark, is less stark, but still far from the excesses of the 1980s. It has received, if anything, an even more positive reception than 12 Songs and his career seems unstoppable. He recently confirmed his appeal to a new generation as a mentor on American Idol.

Diamond has always polarised opinion and it's easy to see why. 'I Am – I Said', can be described as "raging, existential angst", but it also includes the excruciating lines: "I am, I said, to no one there, And no one heard at all, not even the chair." In the 1991 film What About Bob? the main character blames the breakdown of his marriage on his wife's fondness for the singer. "There are two types of people in this world," Bob says. "Those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't." For the moment, it seems, those who like him are in the ascendancy.

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In 2002, Diamond was ranked third on the list of the most successful adult contemporary artists in the history of the Billboard chart, behind Elton John and Barbra Streisand, right.

• Diamond met his current partner Australian Rachel Farley – who is 31 years his junior – when she was handling merchandise for his 1996 Australian tour.

• 'Sweet Caroline' is a theme song for the Boston Red Sox baseball team, despite the fact that Diamond is a lifelong New York Yankees fan.

• "My voice is unadorned. I don't try for perfection. I try to be honest and truthful and soulful with the voice I have. If I make mistakes in notes, or there are cracks in notes, I don't fix them. That's the way it is." Diamond on his musical technique.

• Earlier this year, Diamond appeared on the roof of the Jimmy Kimmel building to sing 'Sweet Caroline' after the late-night talk show host was jokingly arrested for trying to sing the song.