Joni Mitchell – 50th Music Anniversaries and Other Musings

February 22 – Croz’s Solo Debut

2/22/71: David Crosby – If I Could Only Remember My Name

I’m currently mired in another winter writing motivational slump, but after letting a couple of key release dates slip by recently I wanted to get something down about one of my favorite albums, David Crosby’s solo debut If I Could Only Remember My Name, released this day 50 years ago.

If I Could Only Remember My Name... | 500 Square Music Album Covers

I only learned about this album about twenty years ago, and I don’t recall how. I’d heard the live cut of Laughing on CSNY’s 4 Way Street album, but it didn’t occur to me to find out what album it’s from, and it didn’t resonate with me as the studio version would. This song, with Joni Mitchell’s beautiful backing vocal and Jerry Garcia’s haunting pedal steel guitar, is just one of the great songs on this release. While this is a solo release with the majority of its songs credited to Crosby alone, he enlisted the help of a number of friends in the studio.

If I Could Only Remember My Name by David Crosby free ringtones for Android & iPhone phones | Melofania

Paul Kantner was concurrently recording his concept album Blows Against the Empire at Wally Heider Studios in San Francisco where Crosby was working, as were The Grateful Dead, who were laying down tracks for American Beauty. Kantner had help in the studio from a group of SF musicians loosely named the Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra. This included Crosby, plus members of the Grateful Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Santana, and Jefferson Airplane. Many of them also found their way into Croz’s studio to support his effort, and they were joined by Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, and Graham Nash. The result was an eclectic group of songs that form a record I find to be cohesive in some spots and beautifully disjointed in others. Either way, it works.

CROSBY, DAVID - If I Could Only Remember My Name - Amazon.com Music

The dynamics at play here with the various relationships among the album’s musicians are interesting to me, including the fact that CSNY were in one of their “off” modes after the release of Déjà Vu, yet Neil Young co-wrote and played on the opening tracks to both sides of Croz’s album, including the angry and still relevant What Are Their Names. The autobiographical Cowboy Movie, written about the breakup of CSNY (which of course wouldn’t be complete without a reference to the “sweet little Indian girl,” a.k.a. Rita Coolidge), is another standout. Neil Young and Jerry Garcia trade guitar licks while the rhythm section features Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, and Phil Lesh. Cowboy Movie sounds like an early Grateful Dead track with Croz on vocals. It’s definitely a song to crank up to eleventy.

David Crosby - If I Could Only Remember My Name - WOW! | Page 3 | Steve Hoffman Music Forums

There are a couple of instrumentals on the album, but far from sounding like filler, they lend beautifully to the vibe of If I Could Only Remember My Name. That vibe to me is the come down from the 60’s and perhaps some somber reflections had by David Crosby about his own life and relationships at the time. Comparisons can be silly, but for the sake of this post I’ll share that I rate this album snuggly next to CSNY’s Déjà Vu, just behind the first Crosby, Stills & Nash album. It’s a little embarrassing that it took so long for me to “discover” it for myself, but it’s a keeper that cuts deeply some days.

Tracklist

Side One:

Music Is Love
Cowboy Movie
Tamalpais High (At About 3)
Laughing

Side Two:

What Are Their Names
Traction in the Rain
Song with No Words (Tree with No Leaves)
Orleans
I’d Swear There Was Somebody Here

Bonus:

Kids and Dogs

-Stephen

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/david-crosby-if-i-could-only-remember-my-name/

https://www.allmusic.com/album/if-i-could-only-remember-my-name-mw0000196679

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_I_Could_Only_Remember_My_Name#Track_listing

https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/david-crosby-if-i-could-only-remember-my-name/

Desert Island Album Draft, Round 4: Blue

I’m participating in an album draft with nine other bloggers, organized by Hanspostcard. There will be ten rounds, with draft order determined randomly by round. With the first pick in round four, I’ve selected the first Joni Mitchell album I ever owned.

Judge: “Mr. blogger known as Introgroove, you are accused of musical acculturation in the first degree. How do you plead?” Me: “Guilty as charged.” We’re now into the fourth round, and I realize I could fill my top 50 – never mind 10 – desert island collection with albums from 1965-75 alone. I do have one “modern” album from the 90’s in mind for later, yet even it’s over a quarter century old. It seems strange when I think of it, but I guess I’m just an older soul. Always have been. My choice to kick off this round, for example, was released when I was not quite four months old: Joni Mitchell’s Blue.

Other than the handful of Joni’s singles I’d heard on the radio growing up – specifically Big Yellow Taxi, Raised on Robbery, Help Me, and Free Man in Paris – I didn’t know anything about her albums other than that they were held in high esteem by the omniscient scribes at Rolling Stone and MOJO. So at the age of 21 I decided to investigate for myself. I was at Streetside Records one day and ran into an older acquaintance I knew to be knowledgeable about such matters, so I asked him where I should start with Joni Mitchell. Without hesitation he said Blue. I took it home, popped it into the changer, and never looked back. At the time I was in an obsessive Dylan and Neil Young self-education mode, and her music fit my schooling perfectly. These days, I don’t try to categorize her. Especially not after gaining an appreciation for her later Hejira album.

But Blue? Almost everything I love about music from that era is encapsulated on this album: great songwriting, bare bones honest lyrics, a beautiful and unique voice, and unparalleled musicianship. Bob and probably even Neil couldn’t touch her alternate tunings (if I were still categorizing her). But it’s more than that. While the songs are mostly about Mitchell’s relationships past and then-present, some with famous musicians, others not well known, the recordings capture the mood of 1971. That is, it was a come down. Joni didn’t allot many words to political commentary, but in California she summed it up concisely: Reading the news and it sure looks bad, They won’t give peace a chance, That was just a dream some of us had… There’s a melancholy and resignation in those words and in her voice that can be found throughout the landscape of artists at the turn of the 1970’s. It wasn’t always bleak, but the 60’s hangover was hard to avoid, as in the title track: Acid, booze, and ass, Needles, guns, and grass, Lots of laughs…

Joni Mitchell makes appearance at Brandi Carlile tribute - Los Angeles Times — A rare Joni sighting – At Brandi Carlile’s tribute performance of the Blue album in L.A. last October

As we trudge through a summer of uncertainty and discontent, Blue maintains a contemporary feel. For me there’s something visceral about Joni’s music. As much as or more than other artists whom I admire but was born too late to listen to while they were in their prime, I feel like I was there when I listen to her. It’s 1971, except I’m 23 years old. I’m lounging at some dingy outdoor cafe with a buddy who’s just returned from Vietnam, unsure of what to do with his life. Return to school? Morocco sounds better. Or maybe the roles are reversed. Then again, maybe it’s just 2020 and we’re waist-deep in our own troubled times, but thinking about it in 50 year old terms makes it seem more palatable. Either way, Mitchell’s music is deep but accessible. This and her other early albums earned Joni the well-intended accolade from various critics, “Best Female Songwriter/Musician,” which rankled her and rightly so. She’s one of the best, most innovative songwriters, singers, and musicians ever, male or female, period.

Tracklist

Side One:

All I Want
My Old Man
Little Green
Carey
Blue

Side Two:

California
This Flight Tonight
River
A Case of You
The Last Time I Saw Richard

-Stephen

Young, Talented, & Free: Laurel Canyon in the Late 1960’s

Is there a historical time and place you’ve ever thought might’ve been great to have been around for whatever reasons? The combination of the lens of history and the imagination can make the grass appear quite green in different bygone scenes. For me, Paris in the 1920’s, Greenwich Village in the late-1950’s/early 60’s, and Swinging London in the mid/late 60’s are a few which stoke my imagination.

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Another is Laurel Canyon for that brief moment in the late 60’s when the music world was shifting faster than people could keep up with. Thankfully there were artists and record company executives willing to take chances. Granted, the “free” in my title is subjective; artists enjoyed leeway to record and perform as they liked, but massive egos are a hinderance to freedom in the spiritual sense, and there was no shortage of those in the Canyon.

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But it was a snapshot in time just before the money got absurd and the drugs too hard, and it’s not likely to ever be repeated. Today it’s snapshots I’d like to share in a manner which deviates from my usual format. Rock photography became a major art form itself and crucial to the music industry around this time, and in L.A. Henry Diltz, among others, was a major contributor among the emerging folk and rock glitterati. Perhaps I’ll explore that topic another time.

For now, picture yourself in a canyon in 1968 L.A., with tangerine trees and smoggy skies…

Frank Zappa with daughter Moon Unit. Getty Images

The unofficial hostess of Laurel Canyon, Mama Cass. Henry Diltz photo

Mama Cass may have been the unofficial hostess, but pictorially and musically speaking, to me the most interesting road in the canyon led to Joni Mitchell’s house: