Published on Sep 6, 1997
Borrowing Neil Young after his triumphant stint with Crazy Horse
(on
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere) gave
Deja Vu a harder edged sound than
Crosby, Stills, & Nash, released the previous year.
Young’s primary contribution is his cutting guitar, memorably
dueling with Stills’ more precise work on an electrified version of
Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock.” His two writing contributions, the sad
but beautiful “Helpless” and the dramatic epic “Country Girl,” are
also stellar.
Elsewhere, the songwriting is more evenly spread than the
previous offering, which Stills dominated. David Crosby lends the
theatrical “Almost Cut My Hair,” ultimately deciding against it
because “I feel like letting my freak flag fly,” and the strange,
harmony laden title track. Though of course the harmonies are
highlights (after all, that’s what gives this band their identity),
these tracks take off because of the raw, intricate lead guitar and
absorbing bass lines supplied by Greg Reeves.
For his part, Graham Nash lends two ultra catchy dippy hippy
anthems. “Teach Your Children” features the prominent pedal steel
guitar of Jerry Garcia, while “Our House” is a slight domestic tale
with cartoonish (but enjoyable) vocal harmonies. Nash was always
the poppiest writer of the bunch; never was that more apparent than
here.
Stills’ “4 + 20” is a short acoustic ditty, and the Young/Stills
penned “Everybody I Love You” contains a propulsive beat and
blaring guitar, but whose idealistic lyrics declared that this
Woodstock institution wasn’t ready to let that dream die, anchoring
the 60’s to the 70’s. And Stills’ “Carry On” is probably their best
song, whose clean harmonies are matched to daring basslines and
harsh guitar heroics, creating a captivating brew. Though obviously
the product of a certain period (hell, it helped define an era),
Deja Vu still sounds grand.
Many people are surprised at the band’s meager recorded output
(it wasn’t until 1988’s underwhelming
American Dream that Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young got
back together in the studio, though they made two albums without
Young in the meantime). Something always seemed to come between
them to compromise their ability to make music together, most
notably David Crosby’s drug problem. In truth, they made the Rock
n’ Roll Hall of Fame more because of their mythical stature and
historical importance than due to an impartial judging of their
recorded output. However flawed, they were a band of many charms
whose sum was clearly greater than their individual parts (except
for Young, whose solo career easily dwarfs his fellow bandmates).
For anyone who has ever wondered what the fuss was about with these
guys, their strengths were never more apparent than on
Deja Vu.