Robert Christgau: Dean of American Rock Critics

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Graham Nash/David Crosby [extended]

  • Crosby, Stills & Nash [Atlantic, 1969] B+
  • Deja Vu [Atlantic, 1970] B-
  • If I Could Only Remember My Name [Atlantic, 1971] D-
  • 4-Way Street [Atlantic, 1971] B-
  • Graham Nash/David Crosby [Atlantic, 1972] C-
  • Byrds [Asylum, 1973] C
  • Wild Tales [Atlantic, 1974] C-
  • So Far [Atlantic, 1975] B-
  • CSN [Atlantic, 1977] D+
  • American Dream [Atlantic, 1988] C+
  • Thousand Roads [Atlantic, 1993] C-
  • Looking Forward [Reprise, 1999] C

See Also:

Consumer Guide Reviews:

Crosby, Stills & Nash: Crosby, Stills & Nash [Atlantic, 1969]
Rated by request. I have written elsewhere that this album is perfect, but that is not necessarily a compliment. Only Crosby's vocal on "Long Time Gone" saves it from a special castrati award. Pray for Neil Young. B+

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: Deja Vu [Atlantic, 1970]
Of the five (or seven, I forget) memorable tunes here, N's "Our House" is a charming but cloying evocation of puppy domesticity, while both N's sanctimonious "Teach Your Children" and C's tragicomic "Almost Cut My Hair" document how the hippie movement has corrupted our young people. S half scores twice and in-law M provides the climax. Which leaves Y's "Helpless" as the group's one unequivocal success this time out. It's also Y's guitar--with help from S and hired hands T and R--that make the music work, not those blessed harmonies. And Y wasn't even supposed to be in on this. B-

David Crosby: If I Could Only Remember My Name [Atlantic, 1971]
This disgraceful performance inspires the first Consumer Guide Competition. The test: Rename David Crosby (he won't know the difference). The prize: One Byrds LP of your choice (he ought to know the difference). The catch: You have to beat my entries. Which are: Rocky Muzak, Roger Crosby, Vaughan Monroe. D-

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: 4-Way Street [Atlantic, 1971]
Was it only two years ago that the formation of Crosby, Stills & Nash brought gladness to the hearts of rock and rollers who remembered that they loved tight songs rather than endless jams and believed that an ex-Hollie's pop sense would temper Byrds/Springfield folk-rock? Who would have figured that none of them would remember that rock and roll is also supposed to be funky--and fast. And that the best stuff on their live album would be the jams, dominated by the new guy, who would also write their tightest songs? And for that matter that a singalong of dig-its and right-ons by the man who wrote "For What It's Worth" and a goody-goody song about Chicago by the ex-Hollie would sound like political high points? B-

Graham Nash/David Crosby [Atlantic, 1972]
Those captivated by their personae doubtless hear human beings singing these songs, but all I can make out is two stars trapped in their own mannerisms, filtering material through a style. Even Nash's "Black Notes" and "Strangers Room," good melodies that look fine on the lyric sheet, sound completely flat. C-

Gene Clark, Chris Hillman, David Crosby, Roger McGuinn, Michael Clarke: Byrds [Asylum, 1973]
Don't believe the title, believe the artist listing. The difference is between a group, committed however fractiously to a coherent collective identity, and a bunch of stars fabricating a paper reconciliation. Maybe if Gary Usher had produced, as promised, this would be more than the country-rock supersession David Crosby has granted us--because maybe Usher would have persuaded the boys to let go of the songs they're saving for their solo albums. C

Graham Nash: Wild Tales [Atlantic, 1974]
The title is as phony as the rest of the album, which despite the paid-for goodies--harmony here, intro there, even a song somewhere or other--is a tame collection of reshuffled platitudes. Especially annoying: "Oh! Camil," in which Graham lets us know that he is morally superior to a doubt-ridden Vietnam vet. C-

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: So Far [Atlantic, 1975]
This group might benefit from a compilation that concentrated on guitar interactions and uptempo throwaways. Needless to say, that's not the one we get. B-

Crosby, Stills & Nash: CSN [Atlantic, 1977]
Wait a second--wasn't this a quartet? D+

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: American Dream [Atlantic, 1988]
Forget the careerist compromise, dazed ennui, and soggy despair, and take this hustle for what it pretends to be and at some level is: four diehard hippies expressing themselves. Poor old guys can't leave politics alone--there's more ecology and militarism here than when they were figureheads of pop revolution, and though the rhetoric is predictable, the impulse has a woozy nobility. Not that that's ever been reason to pay Graham's ditties any mind, or that Stephen's steady-state egotism is redeemed by stray references to judges and changing the world. But while David's cocaine confessional makes "Almost Cut My Hair" seem self-abnegating, his "Nighttime for the Generals" sure beats Sting. And Neil lends musical muscle and gets commercial muscle back. So, not as horrible as you expected--nor good enough to give a third thought. C+

David Crosby: Thousand Roads [Atlantic, 1993]
Crosby adds new meaning to the word "survivor"--something on the order of "If you can't kill the motherfucker, at least make sure he doesn't breed"--and until VH-1 got on the revolting "Heroes" video, I'd hoped never to sample this make-work project for his rich, underemployed friends. Oh well. The only thing that could render it more self-congratulatory would be a CD bonus cover of Jefferson Black Hole's "We Built This City." C-

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: Looking Forward [Reprise, 1999]
Right, you knew already. But though I pray I hear solo Y render the title song hopeful instead of smug, I know that in my head I'll still hear N harmonizing insipidly behind. And when S explains how when he was young old people were wrong and now that he's old young people are wrong and then disses "overfed talking heads" without ever once acknowledging overfed singing exhead C to his immediate left, I imagine some computer nerd with more brains than sense joining the arms race just to get even. Still a menace--and still conceited about it. C