FILE - Musician David Crosby performs during a benefit concert for the City Parks Foundation at Central Park SummerStage, on July 29, 2008, in New York. Crosby, the brash rock musician who evolved from a baby-faced harmony singer with the Byrds to a mustachioed hippie superstar and an ongoing troubadour in Crosby, Stills, Nash & (sometimes) Young, has died at age 81. His death was reported Thursday, Jan. 19, 2023, by multiple outlets. (AP Photo/Diane Bondareff, File)

There are those times when the death of a celebrity has the power to bring people up short. The official announcement of such a passing can sometimes grab ahold of us while leaving in its wake a frozen and empty moment in time. Like the silence of evening fog drifting in over a coastline, one is suddenly enveloped in the cloying mist of distant memories. Images from long-ago and faraway wrap themselves around you. The passing of larger than life people who, in their way, played an essential role in our youth are suddenly gone forever. Such hollow moments in life often serve to reinforce our own mortality to us. This seems to be particularly true where popular singers and musicians are concerned.

Across the years, just hearing an old song from your youth has the power to catapult you back to those magical times of long lost youth when life was so much easier, when tomorrow held infinite possibilities, and when getting older was so far away that it didn’t even exist. In an instant, half-remembered melodies, lyrics and harmonies can take you back to that one amazing summer of your life. Sometime just hearing a song that was part of the soundtrack of one’s younger years can bring back a timeworn memory of a special girl you dated in high school or college. The girl who, even after so many years, suddenly has you wondering what ever happened to her, and feeling a bit foolish and immature wondering if, wherever she is, she ever thinks about you…maybe even just for a minute.

Such is the case with the passing of David Crosby. For many people, his death is one of those frozen moments in time. A two-time Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee with two revered bands, the Byrds and Crosby, Stills and Nash, he left this world on January 17th at the age of 81.

Across the span of his long and successful career, Crosby was a prolific songwriter who rose to fame in the mid-1960s as a member of the Byrds who had a long string of international hits that were crafted in their intoxicating and distinctive jingle-jangle style. Songs like their cover version of Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man,” “Turn, Turn, Turn,” “So You Want to be a Rock &Roll Star,” and Eight Miles High,” which Crosby co-wrote. He was blessed with a remarkable singing voice that formed the cornerstone of the Byrds vocal harmonies. He was also a catalyst in constructing those same lush harmonies with the legendary band Crosby, Stills and Nash; unique and beautifully blended harmonies that were as clean and pure as a carpet of hushed white snow on a wither morning. They took our collective breath away. Across a wide gulf of years, it is his beautiful harmonies that have stayed with me. I can hear them in my ear as I write this.

His life was always a wild ride as he became the embodiment of the credo “Sex, drugs and rock & roll.” So much so, that in 2014 Rolling Stone magazine characterized him as “rock’s unlikeliest survivor.” A dubious tag, indeed, as over the course of his tumultuous career Crosby often teetered on the edge life and death.

He was one of the most controversial and influential singer – songwriters of the 1960s and 70s. During the heady times of the 1970’s he became the poster boy for the very hip, mellow, and often slightly buzzed lifestyle of what would become known to the world as “Woodstock Nation.” In his day, he ingested virtually every drug that was available to him, and by the 80’s he graduated with honors to become a hardcore drug addict. On his climb to the summit of music stardom and immortality he became a heroin and cocaine addict. What boggles the mind is how the man survived prison time for drug possession, a liver transplant, financial ruin, alienation, and lived to the ripe old age of 81. That being said, at many point along his journey, Crosby was known to be a very difficult person to embrace, even by those closest to him.

Both with the Byrds and Crosby, Stills and Nash, David Crosby had a lasting and indelible influence on the music world. He was a master at fusing the musical genres of rock and folk together in uniquely innovative blending that became an anthem for the Woodstock generation.

Veteran music luminary Peter Asher who was a longtime friend of Crosby, was kind enough to share some of his memories with me for this article. He was very thoughtful in his recollection. “David Crosby was a dear friend of mine, and I already miss him acutely. He was a man of robust contradictions; literate, and philosophical – and yet, on occasion, startlingly tactless.” Asher expanded on this by characterizing Crosby as a man who was “profoundly charming and yet unpredictably jejune, but he was, above all, deeply musical. As a writer and lead singer, and in particular as a harmony singer, his understanding of songs and harmonic structure was instinctive, inspired and magically creative.” Asher added, “Without Dave neither the Bryds, or CSNY, would have become the wildly influential and successful bands they did, and even more than that, I shall miss his intelligence, his humor and his existential joy at recounting everything he had gotten away with!”

Further on down the road when cracks in CSN’s storied career, and bitter personal squabbles fractured and ended the super band, Crosby survived. Even while being caught in the maelstrom of a drug-fueled downhill spiral, as well as battling many other serious problems from all sides. His reputation as a gifted singer-songwriter endured. His post CSN records sold well, and he continued to be in demand for live performances everywhere. As I say, from most accounts he could be a very difficult person to be friends with, however, his talent was simply off the charts.

Folk legend Tom Rush is another artist who was a longtime friend of David Crosby. Rush first met him in Coconut Grove, Florida many years ago along with a group of other acoustic musicians. Like Peter Asher, Rush also looks back at his friendship with Crosby fondly. “I remember him telling me that, while he was in prison in Texas, they taught him how to make mattresses, so that ‘When I got out I’d have some way of making a living.’ “I recall that he borrowed (he said he stole it) my song title ‘Wind on the Water” in 72. He and Nash wrote a song with that title and named their 1975 album after it. It’s somehow the difficult moments… the difficult people that are most fondly remembered. I will miss him.”

Since his passing, the soft flowing allure of a host of his songs, like the haunting “Déjà vu” from 1970 with its soft and silky harmonies, and his 1969 song, “Guinevere,” have been gently waltzing around in my mind. David Crosby possessed a beautiful singing voice that was magical in tone and feel. He lived a whole longer than many people thought he would, and the world was fortunate to have had the opportunity to appreciate and enjoy his immense talent. Rest in peace, David.

Paul Collins is a freelance writer from Southborough, Massachusetts.

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