The musicians Graham Nash called “pure toxic masculinity”
There was a sort of alchemy that existed among the three voices of Crosby, Stills and Nash. It was an out-of-this-world connection when three male voices combined to soundtrack the sweet harmonic sound of LA’s glittering Laurel Canyon.
While the band was made up of three creative titans who all exercised the furrowed brow of ragged male musicians in the 1970s, the end result of their collaboration always exuded the quality of something far more beautiful. But behind the curtain of greatness was regular turmoil, falling outs and the general butting of creative heads.
While Stephen Stills was a master of melody and David Crosby could pour his everlasting wisdom into a catchy soft-rock song, Graham Nash was a master at bringing pop sensibilities into some of the band’s socially conscious songs. The very nature of the creative difference required patience, as Nash once revealed that, much to his frustration, there were strict rules to follow to ensure all of the individual needs of the band were met: “In an effort to keep this band as equal as possible for as long as possible, I always wait for four Crosby songs that we love, four of mine that we love, and four of Stephen’s that we love to make a balanced album,” he said. “But because David writes at a much slower pace than us, we have to wait and that’s why we haven’t done a lot of albums.”
So naturally, when the prospect of a fourth member was presented to the band, Graham Nash had understandable reservations. For one, the creative alchemy between the three founding members was so potent that upsetting could be catastrophic. But perhaps more concerning for Nash was the added time buffer that the inclusion of a fourth songwriter would bring.
And despite his stellar reputation as a prolific and meaningful songwriter, Neil Young’s introduction to the group still raised all of the aforementioned concerns. “I was the only one reluctant to bring Neil into the band,” Graham Nash told Record Collector News in 2014. “And the reason was that we had spent the last few months making this incredible record (1969’s Crosby, Stills & Nash) and developing this beautiful harmonic sound, right? I said, ‘I can’t commit to this until I meet Neil. I gotta sit down with this cat. I wanna know who he is,” he added.
His reservations were soon squashed as Nash met with Young and gave his seal of approval. But nevertheless, he understood the band would be indelibly changed by his introduction, and the bands bare-footed saunter through the hills of Laurel Canyon would soon become a Chelsea boot strut down Hollywood Boulevard.
Young brought a more jagged and edgier feel to the band, both lyrically and instrumentally. The former in particular being a style Nash soon noticed as Young and his former Buffalo Springfield bandmate Stills would take the guitar playing somewhere more transcendental.
“This was pure toxic masculinity,” Nash explained. “It became more evident when Neil joined. I’ve stood in the middle of Stephen and Neil countless times, with these two stags talking to each other through guitar riffs”.
Young’s no stranger to a back-handed compliment, and to be completely frank, I don’t think he’d care much as long as the music was being enjoyed. It remains to be seen whether CSN was better with the Y, but while he was in the band, there were some truly iconic moments to be enjoyed.
