David Crosby - If Only I Could Remember My Name
A stoned wonder of uplifting introspection and harmonies that never quite got the recognition it deserved
Click here to listen as you read (though please note, thanks to Neil Young pulling any music he wrote or performed from streaming services, only select songs are available, but the full album is still up on YouTube.)
David Crosby should be a man requiring no introduction; his contribution to music lands him firmly in the Hall of Famer status bracket. Mention him, and I'd guess that 99% of you might think of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, the 60s supergroup whose albums are as famous as the tales of the group's volatile relationship. That or The Byrds, whom Crosby was a founding member of. Again, no introduction or explanation required; if you're here, reading this, you surely know all of that.
Less is known, however, of Crosby's solo work, and If Only I Could Remember My Name (hereon referred to as IOICRMN), Crosby created a true classic that I find myself returning to over and over. This is a record that, to me anyway, is a kind of comfort listen, partly because it so perfectly evokes another time, and partly because the melodies and vocals just exude a warmth you often struggle to hear in music these days.
Something I love about this record is the way it was recorded and how that comes over when listening. Crosby, like Neil Young, aimed to capture the band at its best. Effects were relatively minimal, and instead the sheer quality of the instruments involved was given space to shine out.
Similarly, the production and mix is the kind of thing that has aged like a fine wine. These days, volume is often the dominant driving factor in a mix; people simply want it LOUD. Peel back a few decades and it feels like more love and attention was given to the mix itself. Instruments are panned more to the left and right, and with headphones on, you can close your eyes and almost see the musicians in the studio, such is the perfect placement in the stereo field.
It makes the whole experience of listening that bit more immersive, and that's something I love.
The album starts with Music Is Love, as fine a statement of intent as one could ask for. The instrumentation is acoustic, the vocals clear and true. The harmonies for which Crosby was known for are in full effect too, with Graham Nash and Neil Young present. CSNY fans would certainly not be disappointed with the familiar mix of those vocals and the major chords.
Following it is what remains an all-time favourite song of mine: Cowboy Movie. To give context to this, permit me a tale…
A good while ago now, I had gone on a lad's weekend with some old friends. We were camping, and having got back from the pub, we were sitting around the fire and relaxing. Smokes were being passed around, the fire was crackling. My mate Ben had taken charge of the music with some kind of wireless speaker playing - nothing too loud, but not too quiet either.
I was sat by the fire, feeling both the comforting heat from the fire, and that satisfied warm glow that one has when feeling exceptionally content. As I was sitting, contemplating my good fortune in life, Cowboy Movie started playing. It was one of those moments where everything just lines up and you feel a kind of realisation that it will be tough for life to get much better than this.
All music gets attached to memories - or at least the best songs do anyway. The effect is powerful too; dementia patients often have moments of incredible lucidity when music from their past is played. The way these melodies connect is incredible in a way I'm not entirely sure we even understand.
But I digress. Cowboy Movie has the kind of lazy, loping groove that only the 60s could deliver. It is a story-teller of a song; Crosby painting the picture of himself and his companions - a thinly-veiled CSNY, I believe - and a brush with the law. The choice of chords here is the stuff of wonder to me; they ring out, plaintive and distinct, but with that groove that means you could comfortably sit and listen to it being jammed on for hours.
I should add too that Jerry Garcia steps up to deliver guitar on this track too. Nothing disruptive, it is worth noting; Garcia is a cooler customer than to try and make the song about him. I love that; the best collaborators just work to enhance the track, not steal it.
Garcia and Nash are back on the next track, Tamalpais High (At About 3), a song that delivers the trademark harmonies of Nash and Crosby, with some wonderful, understated guitar grooving once again from Garcia.
There is a kind of understatement to the song that I love - to the whole album, in fact. It is that kind of stoned groove thing, in which nobody is trying to overplay or show off. Everything is copasetic. The melodies flow, and the harmonies are right in the pocket. Easily said, never easily done.
Side One of the album closes with Laughing, and once again Crosby draws on his friendship circle to have another legend step up: Joni Mitchell, the artist he discovered a few years before. Mitchell only delivers harmonies here, alongside Nash, but the combination is wonderful all the same.
I think what is evident as you listen is how Crosby is seeking comfort among his closest friends and just looking to enjoy creating his art.
At first listen, IOICRMN may seem to meander a bit, and looking at reviews of the time, it certainly confused critics who expected a simple platter of CSNY-style pop hits.
Side Two opens with a good example as to why critics may have been baffled. What Are Their Names makes no rush to start, sounding a little like a demo in progress as it begins. It is almost three minutes before the song really gets going, as if the band are just finding their stride. Again, to me this just reflects the relaxed, stoned jamming kind of vibe going on, despite the truth probably being different.
The song itself is probably the apex moment of superstar cameos. Nash, Young and Mitchell all pop up on the brief vocal, alongside David Freiburg, Paul Kantner and Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane. Ironically, this vocal moment is brief; barely a minute long. The impact, however, is every bit as stunning as Crosby intended it to be.
Next comes Traction In The Rain, a track that for some reason reminds me of Tim Buckley in its chord structures. This is Crosby stepping up in solo form (vocally at least) to deliver a track he'd go on to perform in CSNY sets. You can hear why too; the lush Autoharp rings those lush frequencies that sat so well in CSNY's vibe. It is Crosby in reflective mode - as he arguably is on this whole album - and the end result is bewitching.
Song With No Words comes next, and it is another deft display of the Crosby/Nash vocal brilliance. If the aim was to show that a vocal track can be amazing without any actual lyrics, well, it certainly works. So much has been written of the unique and heavenly nature of the various combinations of CSNY that it doesn't warrant revisiting here, but this is an incredible reminder and display of harmonising chops. Jerry Garcia pops up once again too, again delivering his understated guitar work. The track is six minutes long, but it is almost an ambient piece, an on that basis could be twice that length without fatigue setting in for the listener.
Orleans, the next song on the album, is along similar lines: those harmonies once again soaring as finger-picked acoustic guitar melodies entwine them. Again, this is almost ambient in tone and again, the effect is stellar.
The album closes with yet another masterwork of layered vocals. I’d Swear There Was Somebody Here once more leans toward an ambient, almost spiritual tone. Reverb is heavier here, bringing to mind a cathedral or mass. It is just over a minute long, and serves almost as a hymnal bookend, showing the reverence for the music at work here.
And like that, the album is complete. Side Two is definitely more indulgent, in that it departs from your standard vocal song structure, but at points it is all the better because of it.
As mentioned earlier, critical reception to this album was lukewarm at the time, and I feel it is because it failed to deliver the anticipated LP of hits. However, this is why it remains a hidden treasure. As time has passed and music has generally explored more possibilities, the album doesn't feel indulgent at all; it merely reflects perfectly where Crosby's head was at the time, and I'm grateful for that.
There is a wealth of exposition I could provide around this record; about how Crosby was essentially recording the album to escape his intense grief after the sudden death of his girlfriend, Christine Hinton... but I must be honest: none of that was evident to me when I discovered this record. Whilst it provides some context, it is not necessary in order to enjoy this album. On that front, it speaks for itself.
I heartily recommend looking this album up, ideally on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Headphones or stereo; take your pick, it will hit the spot on both. It might take a couple of listens to tune into the mood and tempo, but it is time well invested. This is an album that has aged beautifully. If I was apeing John Peel and keeping a single box of vinyl to grab if my house is burning down, such that I could grab it and know my absolute favourites are safe, then this would most definitely be in there.
Surely praise can't get much higher than that. Enjoy. x
It's a masterpiece, even though it wasn't planned to be one. To these ears it has more in common with jazz records of the time than anything else.