Croz. That voice. Those harmonies and lyrics. His ability to stay relevant until the end, with five wonderful albums in recent years. His cantankerous Twitter presence. And the fact that he could be an irascible pain in the ass and almost destroyed himself several times over. He told Mojo Magazine in 2018, “Look man, I did everything wrong.” As a fan, nonetheless, I loved him.
I saw David Crosby play many times over five decades - CSN&Y, CS&N, Crosby & Nash, CPR, and with his solo-tour bands. We were supposed to see him in 2020, but the pandemic wiped that out.
The last time seeing him was in 2014 with Walt at the bar at LA’s fabled Troubadour. Just a couple of hundred people and the small room had been immediately sold out. The band included Croz’s son James Raymond with whom he wrote and toured considerably. Raymond is the “R” in CPR. Crosby, Raymond’s birth father, never met his son until 1995.
In 1975, with the Red Sox hosting the Reds in the historic Carlton Fisk World Series Game Six, I was at Boston’s Music Hall when Crosby & Nash momentarily and angrily stopped the show because of the din created by so many Sox fans in the audience with transistor radios.
In 2011, Walt and I were sailing a tall ship out of Papeete, Tahiti. I drew bow watch on the midwatch and, yes, saw the “Southern Cross for the first time,” furiously singing the lyrics at 0200 while harnessed at the bow sprit. “Southern Cross” is a Stephen Stills-written masterpiece, of course, but Croz and Nash sang it gorgeously with him for years on the road. Interestingly, Croz was not on the 1982 studio version of the song. He was arrested that year and at the nadir of his drug addiction. A prison sentence followed in 1985.
Want to learn more about Croz and his remarkable creative legacy? There are many good histories and biographies. You could even start with the Croz tribute on the Gary Kemp and Guy Pratt Rockonteurs podcast yesterday. They knew Croz and played with him, largely through the David Gilmour connections.
I recommend two fairly recent documentaries on Prime: “David Crosby: Remember My Name” and “Echo in the Canyon.” The latter captures the creative, drug-addled music history of mid-1960s Laurel Canyon. Can you imagine those parties and impromptu singalongs with Croz, Stills, Nash, Mama Cass, Peter Tork, Joni Mitchell, Richie Furay, Chris Hillman, and even Eric Clapton?
Thank you, Croz.
Image courtesy of Live for Live Music