Crosby, Stills & Nash - Acoustic

Rating:
Summary: Terrific Concert Capturing the Sunset of their career
Review: You need to be a bit of a nostalgic hippie, because this is music from a definite time that the hip hop beastie-kid-boyband-covertrash metal punks just aren't going to get. Perhaps those interested in Uncle Tupelo or Wilco or Jay Farrar will want to know where it all came from, but in any case, unless you're over 40, you just aren't going to get it. That's OK. I'd rather you didn't.
For the rest of us, this is a warm, engaging concert propelled by an extraordinarily healthy David Crosby. Crosby was the heart, soul and brains of this outfit, thecreative fire as well as the wizened seer. His inner strength shines through and while Nash and Stills have seen better days as singers and musicians, Crosby continues to age like the most powerful and protean force the world of music has ever known. He hits his marks and covers for both ends of his partners with a voice that is a gift and that has gathered a strength, scope and power with age and experience. No one sings like David Crosby. Inspite of being the one from Southern California, Crosby is the erudite, urbane, witty and philosophically politicized member of the group. He has an incisive mind that comes through in his lyrics, the subtlety of his chord changes. He still writes songs that matter, and his current group, CPR, is every bit the match of this venerable lineup.
But as to the matter at hand, this is a wonderful concert in which each of them performs with a passionate commitment to their music. As many times as I've heard these songs, I love the renditions here. The showis beautifully shot and the Dolby 5.1 sound recreates an incredible acoustic experience. Stills was particulalrly on for the show. His voice has deteriorated the most, but his guitar playing throughout was a model of taste, restraint and finesse. That's quite an accomplishment for Stephen, considering hispenchant for sloppy excess. Nash is still the barefoot lightweight, and he seriously misses the first few harmonies on the opening Deja Vu before adjusting his regester and hitting the mark thereafter. The overbearing "Cathedral" is not as melodramatic as it typically is and "Marrakesh Express" is reworked, reset perfectly. Unfortunately most of his heartfelt stuff comes off as trite, redeemed solely as an excuse to showcase Crosby's incredible talent for infusing the most banal with meaning by force of delivery. Crosby, as I say, is the wheel here.
By this point, they were in the sunset of their careers. Only Crosby and the Canadian Odd-ball have managed to remain relevant in a shifting musical and political world. Here, they glow in the light of all they managed to surmount and survive. Their best stuff still matters, and reminds you that there was once a point to singing.