ASPEN — David Crosby’s appearance at Belly Up Aspen Tuesday night was
part of the Aspen Writers’ Foundation’s Lyrically Speaking series, and
interviewer Paul Zollo got quickly to the topic at hand, probing at the
outset Crosby’s thoughts on the songwriting process.
The famed rocker responded that writing songs is a shadowy process, and
noted that songs tend to come to him in moments between wakefulness and
sleep, when the mind is slipping into the unguarded realm of dreams.
So Crosby, notable for membership in two landmark groups, the Byrds and
Crosby, Stills & Nash, could shed little light by speaking on the
songwriting process. Even his own songwriting, which has yielded such
gems as “Wooden Ships,” “Long Time Coming” and “Déjà Vu,” is a mystery
to him: Songs come to him every which way; any sense of methodology is
foreign to him; inspiration comes from a place that he cannot locate.
But when Crosby finally, after a bit of a tease, picked up an acoustic
guitar and started playing those off-kilter licks from “Déjà Vu,”
illumination came at last. There are some things that defy words, and
while songwriting on the whole may not be one of them, the way that
Crosby writes seems to be. It was noted repeatedly by Zollo that a David
Crosby tune doesn’t follow the standard structures of a song — not even
close, in fact. So the best way to gain an understanding of Crosby’s
writing was to see and hear the results, and when Crosby picked his way
through “Déjà Vu” — and later, parts of “Long Time Coming” and “Triad” —
they were instances of clarity: “So that’s the essence of his
songwriting.”
On other topics, Crosby’s words were clearer, heartfelt and
lighthearted, and given with little hesitation. He was adamant in his
opinion that singers should not shy away from politics, comparing the
contemporary musician’s role to that of the old town crier, informing
the citizenry about the state of the world. (”It’s 11:30 and all is
well. It’s 12 o’clock, and there’s a chimpanzee loose in the White
House,” bellowed Crosby, in one of several jabs at President Bush.) He
gushed adoration on his friends, especially Graham Nash and Jackson
Browne, and his wife of 30 years, Jan, who was in attendance at Belly
Up. He praised the gifts of late guitarist Michael Hedges and of Joni
Mitchell, whom he said was the songwriting equal of Bob Dylan — and a
better musician.
Photo by Read Hunker
The 66-year-old Crosby didn’t shy away from the darker episodes of
his past, and earned laughs by pointing out the advantages of being old,
fat and burned out while having to do time in a Texas state prison. He
even let slip that, after 14 years of sobriety, he still smokes pot on
occasion. The revelation was muted by the fact that, earlier in the
evening, Crosby had requested a glass of wine.
Only one subject threw Crosby out of his good mood, his thorny and
complex relationship with longtime bandmate Stephen Stills. Crosby
warned Zollo not to get too deep into that thicket, but the subject
could not be suppressed. When Zollo mentioned that all of Crosby, Stills
& Nash had been romantically involved with Joni Mitchell, Crosby
corrected him, and said that Stills had been excluded from that
privilege. “Joni had to draw the line somewhere,” said Crosby with a
naughty grin.
The soldout audience could hardly have asked for more in the speaking
department, as Crosby was witty, humble and engaged. And hardcore fans
expressed satisfaction with the song selection, which included the
lesser-known, highly evocative “Carry Me” and “Page 43.”
The evening could have used a few more songs. Crosby didn’t settle into
true performance mode until the finale, the gorgeous, one-of-a-kind
“Guinnevere.” Crosby revealed that the song was about three different
women: Joni Mitchell; his old girlfriend Christine Hinton, who had been
killed in a car accident; and a third, whom he has not and would not
reveal. And then Crosby launched into the lyrics — “Seagulls circle
endlessly/ I sing in silent harmony” — and there was no better way to
enter the world of his songwriting.
