I met David Crosby only once, and briefly at that, in Denver in 1974, but his passing hurts not just because a rebellious spirit, wonderful harmony singer and great songwriter has been silenced but because Crosby will always remind me of my great friend Johnny Rogan, The Byrds’ foremost biographer.
Had Johnny not left us 2021, he would undoubtedly have been on the phone to me this morning to talk about Crosby, and for ages too. He would also have been called upon by someone to write something for a magazine or a website, an obituary, a tribute, an epitaph, or at the very least been asked for a quote by someone who was writing about Crosby and needed an expert to guide them. Since Johnny can’t be here to do that in person, I hope he will forgive me for using his 1,200-page Byrds book Requiem For The Timeless (Volume 1) as the basis for this post about Crosby, a tribute of sorts to both of them.
The Byrds was unquestionably Johnny Rogan’s favourite group and David Crosby was certainly Johnny’s favourite Byrd, and his favourite musician from CSN&Y too, even though he wrote a separate book, Zero To Sixty, about Neil Young. In Requiem you can read everything you could possibly want to know about Crosby, from his birth in 1941 to 2012, the year the book was published. Had its author been writing still, I’m pretty sure he’d have started work this morning on a new chapter for Requiem Volume 2 which tells the stories of the six former Byrds, now seven, who have passed away.
That’s speculative, of course, but around 1980 Johnny caught up with Crosby, then addicted to freebasing, in London “at a small guest house in Denbigh Street” and tried to take him to a pub, The Lord High Admiral “to see a different world but he wouldn’t be distracted from his stash”.
“His descent into freebase hell later in the decade could not disguise a resilient spirit,” writes Johnny. “He was a burning mass of passion, pride, hubris and regret, but blessed with a clear-eyed, almost painful honesty, that was genuinely moving. Always the most articulate of The Byrds, he gave me the best interview of my life. It was an extremely moving experience, never to be forgotten.”
The interview lasted two days, afternoons and evenings, and in the course of their conversation Crosby showed Johnny a picture of the Mayan, his boat. “He suggested a visit to San Francisco and even dangled a tentative, if unlikely, book project. It was difficult not to be swept along by the sheer force of his passion. He seemed to care more about The Byrds and its legacy than [Roger] McGuinn did at the time, and was more trusting than [Chris] Hillman and a better communicator than [Gene] Clark.”
Later in the book, referencing the same interview, Johnny writes: “Despite [the drugs] Crosby remained lucid, sharp, and thoroughly in command of proceedings, as though the drug was no more potent than a packet of cigarettes. …. [He] still looked in good shape, dressed casually but cleanly, ate well and was conducting his business affairs with assiduous skill and clarity. His acoustic performances were a joy to behold and his articulation onstage and off was undiminished by his habit. He could talk for entire afternoons and evenings, answering often difficult questions with a precision and perspicuity beyond the power of his fellow Byrds…
“Always a barometer of emotion, Crosby could be arrogant, immodest, humble, aggressive and terribly loving. Temperamentally, he was the perfect foil for McGuinn. It was difficult to imagine two more strikingly different personalities: passionate forcefulness versus cool deliberation. Crosby’s passion for The Byrds, as for all his music, was positively tangible.”
The introduction to Requiem closes with Johnny acknowledging the greatness of The Byrds. “By then [the 1980s] they were part of rock’s history rather than its future. Nevertheless, their influence was everywhere and the phrase ‘Byrds-like’ had virtually become a cliché. By the end of the decade, their past was being reassembled in the manner of an archaeological dig, courtesy of the many unearthed tapes recorded during their golden era… Gloriously, their music continues to resonate with new meaning as well as reaffirming the beauty of a treasured past.”
Thanks Johnny, and David.
5 comments:
Thank you for this Chris, I am heartbroken about Crosby and think of Johnny regularly
It says Anonymous- but it’s me Colin Larkin
I can testify to Johnny Rogan's ability to discuss David Crosby's life and music for many hours at a time, something that he and I did on multiple occasions. For Rogan, musical passion was central to his life, and Crosby sat high in his artistic pantheon. But getting the facts right was more important, and Johnny was always prepared to piss off his heroes in the process of getting to the truth.
That's why Crosby would occasionally attack Johnny on Twitter, having got it into his head that Rogan was his enemy. In fact, few people were such staunch and vocal supporters of Crosby's music as Johnny, even during the long years when no self-respecting critic was prepared in public to admit that DC's work was worth a damn. If there's an after-life, then Johnny has probably already got Crosby cornered, microphone in one hand, glass of red wine in the other, ready to subject his hero to another trial-by-interview.
My wife and I met Johnny at an event celebrating Van Morrison in Belfast many years ago. I asked to speak to him and he graciously agreed. I surprised him right away by saying I wanted to talk about DC and not VM. However he went along with it and we had a pretty long conversation. The first thing I noticed about him was that he sort of did an impression of Crosby when he talked about him. And what was startling about that was how dark of a character he presented. When I met Crosby later I could see exactly what Rogan was showing. As much as I loved Crosby's music I realised he wasn't a nice person. He had seen too much and done too much in a life of self destruction and privilege to be a stand up guy. Everything was predicated on producing music. Only his freebase addiction threatened that.
His time on this plain has come to an end and he leaves behind a collection of music that is peerless in it's beauty, fragility and bombast.
On a side note I wonder what would have happened if David Crosby and Van Morrison ever ad attempted to write together. They were both Jazz heads with a flair for the experimental. I think the closest we'll ever get to hearing it is Crosby's foolish man.
Thank you for that comment. CC
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