01/20/2023
David Crosby was the most vital Byrd - by all accounts, trouble to himself and those around him; but the most vivid and creative of that musical tribe. Like many great partnerships, he and Jim McGuinn chafed against each other but generated an exquisite noise between them: Crosby had a voice like honey that draped over McGuinn’s more ant-like tones. I wish I’d seen them in action - those guitars that seemed to floss your brain between the ears, coated with the warmth of Crosby’s dominant harmonies: their records alone made me want to levitate.
David was also - to me - the most interesting element of CSN&Y, musically, even if drugs could get the better of him and bonsai his contributions. He let jazz, folk and rock’n’roll flow into each other, like a child playing with cups of water by a sink. There was a liquid quality to his songs and music.
As a person he was wonderful yet could on occasion be ghastly, apparently - like John Lennon himself. Overbearing at times, he nonetheless was very supportive of other artists, from Joni Mitchell up to Snarky Puppy.
Because David did such a great job in pulling himself out of the narcotic vortex in the late 1980s he seemed like he’d be around forever. It’s disturbing that he’s gone, almost as much as it’s sad: people like Crosby were built to endure, the way their love of music does. So even 81 seems too soon for him to be called away. Rave on, David…
