“People don’t talk about death, or they adopt some
fairy tale like sitting on a cloud playing a little harp. Hogwash. No matter
how long you have, the question is the same: What are you going to do with it?
I want to make the world better, and the only thing I can contribute is music.
I can make good music that will lift you up. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”—Rock
‘n’ roller David Crosby quoted in Alan Paul, “Weekend Confidential: David
Crosby—A Legend Faces the End by Making Music,” The Wall Street Journal, July 6-7, 2019
I have watched very few first-run movies in theaters
in recent years, but I do greatly desire to see David Crosby: Remember My Name, a documentary about the rock ‘n’ roller which opened in limited
release this weekend.
Not only is it the product of Cameron Crowe, a
filmmaker I have greatly come to admire over the years, but it is about a
musician that I and so many other baby boomers haven’t been able to resist watching
and listening to for a half century: David Crosby.
Crowe interviewed “The Croz” as a young rock ‘n’
roll journalist in the 1970s for Rolling Stone Magazine, so the director
is familiar with his accomplishments—and all the ways he fell short.
If the
musician is even a tenth as candid with Crowe as he has been in his recent
spate of interviews—talking not only about his CSNY partners but also his
deepening health concerns (including several heart attacks and worsening
problems with diabetes) and his intense commitment to music—this should be one
of the more eye-opening documentaries.
His well-known drug problems cut entire years out of
what, for other artists, would have been their primes.
But, as I discussed in this blog post from last year of a
concert he gave in my hometown, Crosby has approached his youthful peak in terms
of output and creativity. If his health is as precarious as he suggests, he
will have gone out with a flourish.
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