Monday, April 15, 2013

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Deja Vu (1970)




My theory as to why this album towers so high above most everything else C, S, and N ever did: the gravitational pull of four gigantic egos held everyone down to earth for once (more or less: Crosby can’t resist one aimless pseudometaphysical sonic quagmire on the title track) and the competitive spirit when each one only got a few songwriting at-bats meant all killer, no filler—there’s no space on the record for the latter. Crosby might think almost cutting his hair is an event as important as the civil rights movement, but it’s better that he sticks to the smaller topic, and the musicians around him burn and slash through his self-absorption anyway. Nash spends his two tracks on domesticity, but for once his vapidity took on topicality in the historical moment, and the buoyant melodies help. Stills seems to have tried revising his songs for once instead of just thought-vomiting them straight out; it helps, too. And Young, who could never be contained by these milquetoast clowns for long, delivers some quivering beauty on “Helpless” and then pretends Crazy Horse is around with some garage-stomp to close things out. It all holds together better than it could ever deserve to.

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