Take it seriously.

At the sight of his face back from nowhere and not that once I am full of admiration for this miracle man, blessed by the gods, passed through the smaller holes that it is possible to imagine. He did nothing to prove, has toured almost all that can senvisager, pleasures like bullshit bullshit but especially all those that are conceivable.

Still alive when this notorious death should be self-destructive since his early escapades under Byrds, he could quietly wait for death to come get him for real, because it well will one day wash force challenged, but mostly because it's written.

Diabetic, reached dune hepatitis C, the liver transplant, the heart sick, addict half his time on earth, alcoholic, he has accumulated enough saccorder a break now that he is clean. At the judicial level too, he collected burrs: Drug facts, illegal possession of weapons, driving while intoxicated, which led to the often frequent the courts rarely jails Yanks.

Well no, it's not in the program of good old Crosby as take it easy. He decided to keep fighting and not be confined in a plane-plane agenda that would suit girlfriends rock stars. Not to him. Be aware, he decided to fight. Encore. At 73. As sil navait not had enough shots that he has morflés and against which he struggled. Its old demons as they say, are known: heroin (in 1971), cocaine (20 years), crack (later), alcohol (in parallel).

Not content BE weakened by his life hippie-rock star, he had to face, on a professional angle, its unfortunate eviction instigated by the Byrds McGuinn / Hillman duo who endured the most; he had to resist the existence of a bitch blows such as the loss of his love, Christine Hinton, killed on the road September 30, 1969 which literally rolled so that it senfonçait deep in the dope and booze, like the suicide of his brother Ethan (1997) as the placement, at twenty, his son James Raymond. Its bad patches, perhaps this is the one that trots him again in the head today, that this is dautant with the latter, with which he tinkered jusqualors in CPR, that he talks about his personal projects davenir now.

David Crosby, one could make a book, write tons until the early hours as the character is endearing and brave. He decided to fight, more precisely back into battle where others permanently store their guitar in the cover.

Jévoquais found his son in the late 90s and personal projects. After more than 50 years in the rock, Crosby still has ammunition and envy, a desire inherited from his mentor Fred Neil. In fact this is one that materializes: Croz (2014), the new solo album mustache bushy eyebrows, with golden hair and wispy. That had not happened to him for twenty of years.

As he says, he does it for him, out of sheer necessity to empty the heart. As if to support his thesis is to prove that it is not finished, it bounces with 11 new songs, written with his son. Of these, fluid and generous note The intervention of Mark Knopler (Whats Broken) and virtuoso contest of the great jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, on Holding On To Nothing. Nose foot to those who washed buried too quickly and that the thought of crimson noggin, scripturally dried up old grizzly is still motivated, physically and mentally capable of beautiful things and still claims always magic.

Despite various requests from professionals, Croz is recorded, in part, in Santa Monica in the studios of Jackson Browne (Groove Masters), a friend who has opened its doors at a time when Crosby na longer afford its ambitions. His book dadresses sest suddenly emptied of its relationships. The other party resulting from the provision of the mobile studio of his son. Crosby hardly reassure his name alone; it seems lame pay his personal journey. There must enjoy today.

For Croz is very good, beautifully produced and keyed with a beautiful musicality. At his age and with the excess that it has made, it is legitimate to position specifically on his voice. It remains soft and thinning. Great singer, great harmonist, Crosby has never been convincing long time.

Many sinterrogent his ability to write again. Is he still capable of great songs like those that feed its leader Doeuvre If I Could Only Remember My Name (1971)? It ballast, it does not sest fucked if it's the brain that questions it. He was a wise and inspired songwriter, he has not lost his touch. Or then he recovered from his disappointing Thousand Roads 1993 last album hanging on his personal catalog? The Crosby Croz never tries to play it, grandstanding. What he does, he does it for him, remember.

The feeling that is exquisitely tuned translated jazzy, haloed dharmonies to Crosby, those lon has boasted the magical quartet or with his buddy Nash. Buoyed by a sweet and heavenly voice that crossed five decades to abuse without soccasionner real damage, the youngest of his catalog is a great success, performed as lentend. Lancian Byrds makes us beautiful and surprising copy, even sil has turned its back to the west-coast dune in favor soft soft-rock declension which is unlike anything else in its catalog. Times have changed, what you want, but I jaime and I think the purists sy does not object. A tour is announced, a sign that Dave is well and truly in the race. So we take this very seriously Croz (PLO54).