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those demos and some songs from “This Path Tonight,” his most recent solo album, as well as the contentious status of CSNY.
Q: There’s a song on your last album, “Myself at Last,” which touches on an interesting theme for a guy who was, what, 74 at the time?
A: Let me tell you a little story about that. I booked the studio for a Monday. Sunday is when the roadies take all the equipment into the studio and unpack. Then the band has to come in and sit down, make sure everybody is plugged in right. And that song, it was the first attempt at the first song we tried. I’ve done this a long time, so there have been songs that took 20 or 30 tries to get the right track. But to get a song as personal as that one in one take was incredible. The last time I did that was “Lady of the Island.”
Q: Um, that was almost 50 years ago.
A: Yes, it was. That was one take for me and (David) Crosby. We attempted it, and we moved on.
Q: I found the album of demos interesting. Did they feel familiar to you? Or do they sort of vanish from your mind once you and the band arrange and record the fuller versions of these songs?
A: Oh yes, I remember. You can never forget the moment the first time you sing something like “Teach Your Children.” That transition from demo to actual record is definitely fascinating to people. I think they’re responding so dramatically because they’ve heard these songs for so long, they’ve bought them in different formats several times over the years. But these offer the songs in ways they have never heard. I was just listening to the test pressing for the vinyl of the demos record. It sounds very nice.
Q: It wasn’t that I never heard the Everly Brothers in your work. But the demos — especially “Pre-Road Downs” — made their influence more obvious to me. Not for the harmonies, but for the way the acoustic guitar leads.
A: Well, the truth is, I simply love the Everly Brothers and was dearly fortunate to say both were friends of mine. I was terribly sad when Phil passed, of course. But I can’t begin to describe how they impacted my musical life. They’re a big reason you and I are talking right now.
Q: Your “Marrakesh Express” demo was for the Hollies, right? But I believe the band didn’t want to record it.
A: That is correct. But it’s interesting now how that’s where these shows are going. My guitarist and keyboard player, we’ve been stripping these songs down to how they were written. A bit of acoustic guitar, a little piano. And people are responding. I tell you this, when you play the song that way, you know if you’ve got a good song or not. There’s nowhere to hide.
Q: There’s an interesting two-sided approach to the older songs to my ears. Some of the songs are so thematically romantic, and others are full of agitation.
A: Let me tell you a little about that. Right from the beginning, there are songs in Crosby, Stills & Nash where we had what we called “the reality rule.” And basically that meant if we sat down and David and Stephen (Stills) didn’t respond to a song, they’d never hear it again. But if Crosby said, “I know what to sing in the chorus,” or if Stephen said, “How about this opening?” well, now you’re talking. Every song we did because all three of us liked the song. That was the reality rule. It’s been an amazing ride with these guys.
Q: But it sounds like the ride is over. Things remain contentious?
A: The truth is, I don’t think Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young will ever make another note of music. It’s gone. We just don’t like each other. I’m talking to Stephen and Neil, and Neil’s talking to Stephen and me, and Stephen’s talking to me and Neil. And no one is talking to Crosby. That’s the way it is. And I’m OK with that. If we never make another record, we have some good things we can fall back on.
Q: You’re a photographer and a collector of photography. Do you see music and photography as connected in some way? Both are ways of capturing a moment.
A: Yes, in a way, I can hear music in photographs, and I can see images in music. If I’m looking at a famous landscape by Ansel Adams, I see the dark trees and imagine cellos playing. Some beautiful whispy clouds, and I hear violas and violins. I can’t write music. None of my friends can, which is kind of amazing. But sometimes I’ll work with an orchestra. So when I said to Jimmie Haskell — who did the strings for “Wind on the Water” — to “make it more purple,” he knows what I’m saying. He’ll put a minor chord in there, no problem.
Q: Are you ever frustrated that some of the angrier songs still hold some resonance? “Military Madness” or “Chicago” or “Immigration Man.”
A: The truth is, it’s an honor that some of these songs have lasted so long. It’s a pain in the ass to have to keep singing “Military Madness.” We have more wars now than we did when my father was going off to World War II. I wish some of them could go away. It’s a crazy world. I tell you this, I’ve been an American citizen 40 years, and I have to tell you this country is a great country. You get to speak your mind and express your opinions. But holy (expletive), do we deserve better than what we have right now.
‘The truth is, I don’t think Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young will ever make another note of music. It’s gone. We just don’t like each other.’ Graham Nash