David Crosby-From The Byrds To Today

RIP David Crosby August 14, 1941 – January 18, 2023

In 1969, I was 12 years old and already deeply wondering about hippies, music, psychedelics, marijuana, and free love. From where I sat in suburbia, it had a golden light around it. My biggest moan at that time was I wished that I was older.

My siblings filled the house with music. Steve Miller Band, Jefferson Airplane, Simon and Garfunkel, Butterfield Blues Band, Doors, and of course Bob Dylan. I don’t recall any Byrd’s records in the house, I owned them all eventually, but Mr. Tambourine Man, was all over the radio when I was 8 years old. The seeds had been planted.

I could go on and on about that first handful of records by The Byrds. I discovered them all as I became a teen, in-depth, and followed the careers of all the members as they broke up and moved on to so many more projects. The singing and harmonies on those records still get played today 50-odd years later.

The Woodstock Festival was held hours from my home on Long Island. My Mom had a sister in Albany, New York and we visited her that summer. We drove up a few days before the New York State Thruway was closed. Stopping at a truck stop on the Thruway, my mind was blown open.  Even though I had grown up just outside of New York City, I had never seen a congregation of hippies in full regalia before.

Barefoot, long hair, and illegal smiles cracked their faces. They seemed joyful, relaxed, and easy. I wanted to run away from the comfort of the Chrysler and jump into a VW Van with my new family and head to Bethel and get back to the garden.

But I was 12 and we continued to Albany to see my Uncle Roy and Aunt Lilly. I would spend the weekend of Woodstock there trying to get glimpses of any news and snippets of anything talked about on FM radio. There was very little except what we saw on Network News.

Even though Bethel was 148 miles from where I sat, I wanted to stick my head out the window and listen for the chimes of freedom, discover the smell of marijuana, or for just some sign of what was happening. It seemed especially important in many ways.

After the festival, I was able to catch the Dick Cavett Show where The Jefferson Airplane, Stephen Stills, Joni Mitchell and the fabulous David Crosby appeared on the TV screen.

There were not many opportunities back in 1969 to see the musicians I loved on TV and I was still just a year short of going to my first rock and roll concert. This to me was more exciting than seeing The Beatles on Ed Sullivan.

Although I had never really seen any of these bands perform live before, this show shot right after Woodstock finished, is filled with that glow of sunshine (maybe liquid) and hope and energy.

Gathering half a million people today in the mud at Yasgur’s farm in similar conditions in 2023  would have a far different result. In 1969, it was all about looking after your brother and sister and enjoying the moment. Even if it did rain and it was cold and there was little food. People looked after each other. Hold that thought.

Our culture has gotten more toxic since then.

But I was taken by David Crosby. He looked like the classic hippie stereotype. I loved pictures I had seen of him of his freak flag flying in the wind, his bushy ‘stache, and his fabulous wardrobe from his hat to his capes, and I wanted to be him or at least look like him! And he had that voice! Jesus, what an instrument.

The Summer of 1969 and 1970 was filled with those first two albums by Crosby, Stills and Nash and then Young for Déjà Vu. My Mom must have liked those records (she would have complained or said turn them off!) because they were always on as my cousin Jan told me yesterday, whenever she visited.

We could not get enough of the feeling, the words and those heavenly harmonies.

That summer of 1970 I was 13 years old and I had finally gotten high in June of that same year. One evening Channel 13, the Public Broadcasting Channel broadcast an hour-long program with Santana, The Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead. I can still recall to this day watching that 60 minutes in amazement.

This was the moment I became obsessed with live music. If you have not seen these clips, or even if you have, just imagine my stoned eyes seeing these cats in concert. You may be able to understand how I became the music-crazed dude I still am.

I wept yesterday at the news of David Crosby moving on. Tears for what we have lost on many levels. Tears for his family and friends. Tears that we will no longer have his presence and voice amongst us.

Last night I got cozy in bed, had a couple of hits on a hash pipe, and watched David Crosby: Remember My Name, a doco released in 2019. My past and his past flashed across the sky. The damage he has done with his voice, the heartbreak for many of his mistakes, and a pile of regret for things he had done and wasted. I cried some more.

I am sure Neil, Graham, and Stephen are hurting and my love goes out to them at the loss of their musical brother.

I came away with the thought I always have is that life is too short for regret. Life is about love, forgiveness, gratitude, and humility. Working on these 4 traits will make you the best human you can be. Do your best.

Don’t wait.

Tomorrow may be too late.

Fly high David and travel with the wings of the angels and sing your song forever.

We will always hear it.

“I thought I met a man who said he knew a man
Who knew what was going on
I was mistaken, only another stranger that I knew
Oooh, mmmm

And I thought that I'd found the light
To guide me through my night and all this darkness
I was mistaken, only reflections of a shadow that I saw
Ooooh, mmmm

And I thought that I'd seen someone who seemed
At last to know the truth
I was mistaken, it was only a child laughing in the sun
Mmmmm, mmmmm
Aaaaaaah, in the sun, mmm”

-Laughing-David Van Cortlandt Crosby

PS-Don’t forget to get deep into finding David singing with others….will leave that research to you. xx