Here If You Listen: David Crosby Lighting The Way Home For My G-G-G-Generation
We were some narcissistic, self-absorbed little sons — and daughters — of bitches. Us Boomers.
But we saw things. Did things. In our never ending quest for that next BIG thing.
We made waves. Big waves. Some of us frolicked in them fearlessly. Way too many of us were lost in the undertow.
But we’re facing a final journey now, those who survived those turbulent years. A whole slew of our best and brightest, our psalm singers and seers, have been leaving us recently.
Saw video of Joni Mitchell being pushed around in a wheelchair backstage at her 75th birthday celebration. Broke my heart.
Her songs helped me navigate most of my life’s adventures. But she can’t sing me through now.
David Crosby, on the other hand, someone she knew well, has perhaps unwittingly taken on the task of lighting the runway for that final trip we’re all taking. His his latest CD, Here if You Listen, created in collaboration with Michael League (yep, Snarky Puppy in da house, y’all) and vocalists Michelle Willis and Becca Stevens, is a series of ethereal “hymns” that shimmer, seethe and soothe.
And smile.
I’ll start with a smile. It’s “Balanced on a Pin,” a serene song about mature, secure love.
Reminds me of those sweet fleeting moments when a lover eases down next to you on the couch and gives you that little, “Wha’cha doin’?” that still makes your heart race a little bit.
“What is that book you have?” he sings. “Is it a love story? I love love stories. I love love…”
And to erase any and all doubts his loved one may have about that, he says:
“Are you afraid to fly?
Don’t be afraid,
Cause I can fly this plane
I can land this plane…”
Well, okay then, Captain Crosby…
Going from suitor to sage, he offers up “Your Own Ride,” a beautiful “father to child” song that you might want to play for one of your own prodigal sons or daughters. In it, he admits, “I’ve been thinkin’ about dyin’. How to do it well.”
But also, he offers a lovely “hug” of a verse for a young one still learning how to live well:
“Love is wings
Keeps us in the air
Truth can be hard
At least it’s really there
Not just an image
But substance deep inside
Truth I give you my child
To take with you on
Your own ride…”
Throughout, and wistfully again at the very end, he counsels, gently, “Sometimes you’ll flee, sometimes you’ll fight…”
The tenderness in his voice makes both choices sound quite honorable. And brave.
And so Crosby has become, I think, the very “Buddha on the Hill” of the song whose haunting refrain, “Here if you listen,” became the album’s title. And as such, he has also moved, as many of us elders do gradually, from the selfishness of youth to the selflessness of older age.
In “I Am No Artist,” he does not renounce his talent, but rather explains why he no longer needs the “title.” Or the trappings.
I, too, have come to understand this. And I was delighted to hear someone else say it so well:
“No true desire burns within me now
I am no artist,
Lonely and supreme
Fulfilled within myself, needing no hand
No hand to touch
No eyes to smile
No lips to speak
I am no artist
I am no artist…”
It’s very hard to describe, but as some of us near the end of our lives, the “need to need” drops away. We love, we nurture, we celebrate, we commune — we are still present. Very much so.
But we are content to do more giving and less taking. More listening and less talking. To be more invisible than invincible.
We are dissolving into the Great Everything. And it’s not scary or sad at all. It’s rather lovely, really.
Especially when we have guides like David Crosby singing us home. Showing us how to navigate this final stretch graciously and gracefully.
Buy this one. Listen to it wherever you like, but then buy it.
Call it an offering. I think that’s the perfect way to see it.
Here’s “Glory,” for a taste of some of that “soothing shimmer,” if you need more incentive.
