Last Walk Along The Lee Shore
The Death Of David Crosby Was Not Unexpected, But Leaves His Fans Adrift Without An Anchor. A Look At His Influence And Less Well Known Music.
Sigh.
Here we are again, just days after the tremendous loss of one musical icon, barely having time to process the loss, and another is taken away.
David Crosby, who died on January 18th, was 81 years old. Crosby had suffered years of poor health, organ transplants, and heart procedures, largely inflicted by his prior abuse of drugs.
Crosby, who, if nothing else, was unflinchingly honest in his old age, would have been the first to admit it.
Once he knew that the clock was ticking, and every second on the earth plane was precious time potentially wasted, he embarked on an unprecedented collaboration with younger musicians a fraction of his age. Generational barriers were immediately knocked down through the universal language of music.
I always marveled that in the last 10 years or so, “Croz” had younger, vital, contemporary musicians flocking to collaborate and perform with him like iron filings are attracted to a magnetic field. It was highly unlikely and singularly unique to Crosby, something that even his well-known contemporaries Stephen Stills, Neil Young, and Graham Nash could not claim despite years of accolades and fan reverence.
That’s because David Crosby simply was a giant, the boomer generations John Coltrane, forging music so ethereal and unique that it created a new genre: “Folk Rock.” Even younger musicians who would eventually collaborate with Crosby in his last years, most of them only knowing his music and career via historical documentation on records or YouTube footage, got his musical genius. Seeing Crosby living up to his promise, to himself as much as his fans, to make as much quality music as possible before the inevitable final curtain call, is one gratifying thing that remains from the sad reality of his passing.
There are plenty of definitive biographies meticulously documenting Crosby’s career, and the heartbreaking, sad termination of his working relationships and friendships, especially with close collaborators like Nash and Young. For the record, he apologized for those human imperfections and moved on. I would recommend the visual history/documentary “Remember My Name” for those unfamiliar.
Before the CSN and CSNY fame, Crosby was pioneering, with Roger McGuinn in The Byrds, an entirely new genre of rock combining Folk with electrified instruments. This cut “Ladyfriend,” written by Crosby in 1967, reflects the innocence of the times, and the fact that bands were required to be less introspective and write songs to appeal to the popular sensibilities of young fans. Radio-ready hits were the order of the day. It remains my favorite Crosby-penned song during his time with the Byrds. The chiming guitars, complex harmonies, brass instrumentation, and countermelodies are certainly NOT typical of the average pop song of the era, and for me, reflect the early adaptation of experimentalism and high standards in songwriting that would eventually lead to Crosby’s unceremonious termination from the group. A joyous, rapturous cut.
My personal introduction to David was, like most, through the first two CSN and CSNY records, PERFECT in their recording, musicianship, and execution. But it was his first solo record, “If I Could Only Remember My Name” that ignited a decades-long devotion. I’ve written about how this album changed my life and literally provided solace in a difficult time as a young teenager. The album was gifted to me through my grandmother as a birthday token. I specifically remember when she inquired how I had spent the money generously gifted to me, and I proudly extracted the newly minted copy, that was inserted back cover first into the shopping bag.
I laugh now thinking about the frown that crossed her face upon seeing Crosby’s wild visage. Horrors: An electric hippie bathed in purple light. She proclaimed “Hmmm, I don’t believe I like the looks of Mr. Crosby”.
What the image didn’t say, that the music eluded to, was that David Crosby had suffered the loss of his beautiful young girlfriend, Christine Hinton, and this album and the songs were a cry out to the spiritual Universe, from a human being suffering immense pain and loss. As I wrote previously:
“The guests that helped Crosby on this record were huge names, all of his former bandmates, Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart of The Grateful Dead, Paul Kanter, and Grace Slick of the Jefferson Airplane, and his ex-girlfriend and muse, Joni Mitchell. I had an opportunity on Crosby’s Twitter account to comment on one of my favorite tracks “Laughing” (written for George Harrison) saying it sounded like the song literally floated in from a spiritual dimension and grounded itself on earth. Crosby gave it a like. Full circle.”
In the Summer of 1974, the year that preceded my angst-ridden Senior year of High School, I saw David perform for the first (and for me, the last time) with his partners Stills, Nash and Young. It was a drug-fueled circus labeled the “Doom Tour.” The venue was outdoors: Foreman Field at Norfolk Virginia’s Old Dominion University. I was too young to be at Woodstock, so for someone in my generation, seeing certifiable legends on this mega tour was the next best thing. It was a scorching hot day, and the attendees were, by early morning, already feeling heat exhaustion. The smell of marijuana permeated the air, and homemade wine, amongst other dubious substances, was passed around in the crowded stands. The Norfolk Fire Department was called in later to cool off the crowd with high-pressure fire hoses.
I’ll never forget working my way to the front of the stage in the densely packed crowd, perfect timing, as Neil Young was performing acoustically, all stoned eyes behind mirrored sunglasses, and the band rejoined him on stage to perform the Crosby-penned classic “Deja Vu.” Crosby was, no doubt, high as a kite, grinning like a madman, but was in great voice, jumping joyously up and down strumming his guitar in rhythmic accompaniment to Stephen Stills's lead guitar.
The recorded document of that tour is worth perusal. Despite the “doom” label, and the verifiable excess, some extraordinarily good musicianship was featured.
Among many miracles that afforded David Crosby a new perspective, and a clear view of life, as well as much-needed humility, was time spent in prison. Crosby, by the mid-80s, had reached rock bottom and succumbed completely to drug addiction and was incapable of performing or recording to even minimal standards. The miracle, and redemption, were, in the years subsequent to his release, discovering and meeting his son, James Raymond, whom Crosby had spent most of his life never knowing.
Raymond was and is exceptionally talented. Like father, like son. The musical collaboration between Crosby, Jeff Prevar, and James Raymond resulted in reigniting Crosby’s passion for music and songwriting, and live performance. He was, finally, seriously dealing with his addictions after years of abuse. The live and recorded documents of CPR are, IMHO way underrated, perhaps overshadowed by his work with Stills, Nash, and Young.
A track that was written about the late Doors singer Jim Morrison showcases Crosby’s magical voice soaring to the heavens. The harmonies that are sung by Crosby, James Raymond, and Jeff Prevar aurally shimmer.
CPR took the classics of CSNY and reworked them into a more fluid context, rocking and jazzy all at once, more contemporary with the way Raymond, and perhaps Crosby himself imagined them. The result is glorious. What is certain is that Crosby re-discovered his muse in CPR, a band that provided him a hand-in-glove fit, and was a relaunch of a career that he felt was over years before. You can see the gratitude and joy on his face.
In 2014 and beyond, Crosby took what, for most musicians, would be exceptional risks. “Croz” was Crosby’s fourth studio album and was mostly an independent effort recorded, produced, and financed with the help of James Raymond, whose collaboration yielded a prolific amount of music. It’s an astoundingly raw and confessional record. Crosby, interviewed by Rolling Stone, said, about the making of the record and this stage of his career:
“Most guys my age would have done a covers record or duets on old material. This won't be a huge hit. It'll probably sell nineteen copies. I don't think kids are gonna dig it, but I'm not making it for them. I'm making it for me. I have this stuff that I need to get off my chest." He also spoke about why they decided to release the album independently, saying: "We didn't have any money. None. We could have gone and gotten a deal, but everybody in the music business is very leery about the big companies and what kind of lifespan they might have. Most people are doing it on their own, so that's what we did."
For me, the entire record contains worthy tracks that grab you by the heartstrings, the musicianship is top-notch, as is the recording quality. Perhaps the one that speaks to me in the most profound way is the track “Radio.”
“The radioman runs to the wheelhouse
Got that message held tight in his fist
An s.o.s off of the wireless
Saying someone somewhere needs this
For you to look out, look down
Reach your hand into the water
For you to look out, look down
And pull someone out of the sea”
Of the many younger, contemporary musicians that truly represent hope for the quality and future of music, like the members of The Lighthouse Band and Sarah Jarosz, fans were gifted with an incredible collaboration with Crosby on the Joni Mitchell penned “For Free”, the title track to his eighth and (as of this date) final studio offering.
The thing about Crosby is that in terms of close dovetail harmonies in CSN, Crosby would shoot the solid middle. What you hear is a skilled vocalist that literally disappears in the mix between Stills's high baritone and Nash’s high tenor, grounding the two of them. It can make the hair on the back of your arms stand up.
This performance as a duo is equally powerful, comparable in gravity to anything CSN has put out as an audio document, you get chills listening. I had been a fan of Sarah’s yeard before this duet, and I never imagined that fate would put them together. This is a rare jewel of a cut.
In a Facebook post from January 19th, Sarah said:
“Heartbroken. I just sang on his new album three days ago.
It will always be a highlight of my life getting to make music with him. His voice and songs brought so much beauty to the world.
These photos are from our “Blue Heron Day” as Jan called it. Jeff and I went to visit him and Jan at their home in Santa Ynez. We had lunch and played with the dogs and then he drove us out to Hollister Ranch. We were the only four people on the beach. While we sat on a big rock all together a great blue heron flew directly over our heads. Croz smiled and said “I ordered that up, how bout that!” It’s how I’ll always remember him. He seemed so happy and at peace on that empty California beach. RIP Croz”
Speaking of John Coltrane, a musician David Crosby (and other music aficionados like myself) deeply respect and admire, I only found out in recent years that Crosby had the great fortune to see Coltrane perform live:
“Crosby said of the incident: “I was very high, and [Elvin Jones] drove me out of my chair. Elvin Jones is a very intense motherfucker. He started getting real intense and drove me out of my chair. Up against the back wall of the club, I’m sat there thinking, ‘Ahhhh, I can’t, oh golly’. It got to be too much for me, so I went to the men’s room”.
He added, “I got my head against this puke green tile; I can still remember the colour of the tile. And I think, ‘okay, it’s gonna be alright, just get it together now, it’s gonna be okay, you’re in Indianapolis’. BAM! Somebody kicks the door open. BAM! It’s Coltrane. He’s kicked the door open because he’s [sax screech and then some]. Playing at the most intense level you could ever imagine in your life”.
It must be terrifying for someone on an intense high, seeking a bit of solace in the cool refines of the men’s bathroom, to be greeted by one of the most intense jazz musicians of all time. All Crosby wanted was to calm down and get his head together, but things were made all the worse.
Crosby continued, “He never stopped soloing. He’s still soloing. And he’s like burning in this bathroom. He doesn’t even know I’m there. He never even saw me. I’m thinking, ‘I’m gonna slide right down this tile’. I’m thinking, ‘my nose is gonna open, and my brain is gonna rush out onto the floor’. It was so intense. I never heard anyone be more intense with music than that in my life”.
An extraordinary story from an extraordinary human.
Croz, I already miss you intensely. Thank you for the music, but more importantly for showing us all how to be human.
Update 1/21/2023: I had to share this video, the very last spoken word interview David did. He talks about what matters, the young musicians he collaborated with, his son James. On a mission until the very end. Music as a lifting force.