Back in June 2021, when David Crosby was doing the rounds to promote his newest, Steely Dan-blessed album For Free, we convened on the phone for what was supposed to be a Superlatives interview. About ten minutes in, though, it became clear that it wouldn’t be published despite Crosby’s charmingly succinct thoughts: He grew frustrated over vague “technical problems,†disparaged my professionalism when I couldn’t identify the issue, and didn’t want to continue to talk anymore. Wow, I thought, Me and Neil Young finally have something in common. Between the attitude and the short transcript, it just didn’t seem worth running on our website at the time. Life goes on. Weirder things have happened.
Crosby, who died last week at the age of 81, was an idiosyncratic musician and singer-songwriter known for shaping the classic-rock era — he spent the 1960s co-founding the Byrds and Crosby, Stills & Nash — as much as his complicated personal life. This is, of course, exactly why I wanted to talk to him. Christ, the man was at Woodstock! When I heard the news of Crosby’s passing, I put on the jaunty coda from “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes†on loop and reread our chat, where I found myself smiling through his recollections of his bandmates, boats, and Laurel Canyon. Perhaps we should’ve published it that summer, but I hope you enjoy it now.
“Ask anything you want,†he said by means of introduction.
Your folk-rock masterpiece
I think the best thing we did was “Eight Miles High.†I like that song a lot. But we did a number of them. “Mr. Tambourine Man†would qualify for that. Definitely “Turn! Turn! Turn!†would qualify. Byrds was a pretty clever group in terms of taking singer-songwriter stuff and turning it into pop records. Roger McGuinn was very, very good at that. But I don’t spend much time thinking about it, truthfully. I live pretty much in the present and I’m concerned with the two bands that I’m in right now. I’m proud of the Byrds. We did really good work and I’m very happy I was in it, but I don’t think about it at all. I don’t really consider my past very much or its significance.
Most beautiful Crosby, Stills & Nash harmonies
Gee, we’re good at harmony. The significant thing is really the songs. The songs work so well that they inspired us to be harmonically creative, which all of us naturally are. It was the most natural thing in the world to do — it wasn’t like any of it was odd. I don’t know why we were as good at it as we were, but maybe it’s just that we had such a good sound. The first time we ever sang together, it was in Joni’s kitchen. Joni is my favorite writer. Stephen and I were singing a song of his called “You Don’t Have to Cry,†and Graham listened to it and said, “Hey, do that again.†So we did it again and we were kind of proud of ourselves. And then he said, “One more time.†We looked at each other and thought, That’s pretty weird, why does he want us to do it again? So we sang it the third time he added his harmony, and we all knew at that exact second what we were going to be doing for a long time.
Best song you wrote when you got sober
The song that was key was one I wrote in prison. Ah, what’s it called? See, this is what happens to old people, man, our memory just goes all to shit. I have wasted ten years in a blind-fold / Ten-fold more than I’ve invested now in sight. Oh, it’s “Compass.†I wrote it in prison about waking up from drugs. It was when I realized that I was going to come back, I was going to get sober, I was going to be able to handle it, and then I was going to write again — which was crucial. I was sober for the first time when I was released. It was a whole other ball of wax and a completely new world for me.
Best song you wrote on your boat
Probably “Wooden Ships.†That’s the most famous one. But I wrote a number of songs there about the ocean. “The Lee Shore†probably is my favorite. Having a boat balanced Hollywood and showbiz; it gave me something to balance it with. It was another way of looking at things, which was very, very healthy for me.
Song you regret recording
None of them. I mean, I’ve always concentrated on the good ones, so I don’t know which one is the worst. You guys have to be the ones to pick that.
Best song to experience while high
The last song on my first solo record, “I’d Swear There Was Somebody Here.†It’s probably the best piece of music I ever thought up. It’s the best experience for that, no question. The recording experience was totally strange. Here’s what happened. I was singing in an echo chamber at Wally Heider’s studio, and I started being entranced by the echo chamber and the things I could do in there. I had this vision that my girlfriend who had gotten killed, Christine, was standing right next to me. I could feel her there — her presence. Then I improvised that piece of music while thinking about her then and there. I think you can feel it. If you listen to it, you’ll know.
Song that reminds you most of Laurel Canyon
Good memories. With the stuff we were singing then, it’s hard to pick one particular song because we had so many. I think “Helplessly Hoping.†It was characteristically good — just how friendly and sweet it sounds, and how good the harmonies are. All of that. We would come in, work all night, leave some time around dawn, and go lay down and come back again the next night. It was a very exciting and very happy time for us. But I don’t think it could sustain itself. It was a very particular to-the-moment kind of energy.