"Classless Reunion: Neil Young needs his old bandmates like a hole in the head"
Jim Farber, New York Daily News,
October 24, 1999

Crosby, Stills and Nash must be wonderful people. Why else would a creatively soaring star like Neil Young saddle himself, even fleetingly, with three such artistic dead weights?

A recent joke from "Saturday Night Live" put it best, referring to the reunited quartet as: "C,S,N and God-Knows-Y."

Certainly, the "Y" part of this unholy alliance doesn't need the money. Young makes a mint on his own, though it's no doubt hard to resist the kind of payday he'll reap when the quartet launches its first tour in 25 years this spring.

Nostalgia alone should fill every seat. But an album of new material, corralled under a big-lie title like "Looking Forward," should prove a far tougher draw. If fans stop to think, they'll remember that neither Crosby nor Stills nor Nash has put out a single song worth owning since 1972.

And that's only if you count the few gems bobbing in the morass of Stills' first "Manassas" project. Otherwise, you can backdate that to '71.

In the time since, Young has kept his professional distance. Over a 29-year period, the quartet has recorded just three previous albums: 1970's "Deja Vu," '71's forceful live set "Four Way Street" and a disc everyone involved with should thank God no one remembers — 1988's excremental "American Dream." Meanwhile, C, S and N have tried to milk their own reunion projects no fewer than four previous times.

CSNY's new LP isn't as easily dismissed as "Dream," if only because it includes four Neil Young songs, all of which recall the brittle intimacy of his 1992 album, "Harvest Moon." On another track ("Dream for Him"), Crosby re-creates the jazzy mystery of his better early interludes.

Too bad those seem like non sequiturs in this mix. "Looking Forward" never coalesces as a reunion should. It feels more like a clearinghouse for most of the stars' castoffs. You'd think with four writers dividing the chores, they'd have plenty of cream to skim. But Stills' four cuts and Nash's two, in particular, seem like chaff.

Worse, the musical element that's meant to epitomize their undying union just winds up showing how far apart they now stand. Their four-part vocal harmonies, which once raised goosebumps, now sound pooped.

It's most distressing in Young's songs, which he showcased on a solo tour earlier this year. Young's lone performance lent them a tender integrity. The full group's cracked harmonies violate it. It's especially disappointing since these songs contain the album's smartest lyrics.

In the title track, he wittily admits the difficulty he has writing a song these days that "doesn't use the word old."

In "Slow Poke" he recasts the chords from "Heart of Gold," and sweetly realizes, "When I moved faster, I was always behind."

Young produced his songs separately, which accounts for their crisp sound, as opposed to the others' wall of gauze. Stills' rock tracks sound particularly retouched.

At least Crosby makes the oozy sound work for him. His cut "Dream for Him" has the imaginative melody line of "Wooden Ships," and nice lyrics that find him wondering how to talk to a child about death.

All the stars retain distinct points of view. Nash is the most gooey. Crosby keeps his searching side. Young seems to hold the most appreciation for life. Stills just sounds like a bitter old coot.

On songs like "No Tears Left" and "Seen Enough," Stills condemns today's kids as Internet geeks, while lionizing his own worn Woodstock Nation. In the latter track, he raps with all the finesse of Warren Beatty in "Bulworth."

Can the nostalgia you hold for a few sweet sounds recorded nearly three decades ago really make up for the 20-plus years of wheezy dross that has followed in its wake?