No sense rehashing my grievances with the main characters
here—Crosby and Stills remain unbearable egomaniacal prigs, Nash a bobbleheaded
proto-himbo, and Young the only real songwriter of the bunch (albeit also
something of a hippie meathead, just a really talented one), so that’s off my
chest.
Bootlegged at Big Sur, this
seems to circulate in pricy but cruddy faceless vinyl. I scored a five-dollar
copy at South Philly’s Beautiful World Syndicate, and
will say this: within the constraints of the group’s insufferability, it’s a
strong document. Audio purists might wince at a version of “Suite: Judy Blue
Eyes” that sounds like a 90s lo-fi 4-tracker, but to me, it’s a step in the
right direction from the pointlessly airless studio perfectionism of the album
take. And fortunately, Young takes over the running length—his first-side
“Birds” is loose (“close enough for jazz,” as he puts it) and wondrous, and
then on side two, he elbows the geezers out of the way for a 19-minute “Down By
the River.” Sure, Crazy Horse did it with more muscle, but the thought of a
pouty Crosby and Stills sulking because nobody’s paying any attention to them
(they add nothing to this song) more than compensates.
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