Crosby, Stills and Nash

As Graham Nash said "Now isn't this a nice place"

Well they were certainly playing in front of a home crowd, New Mexico seems to be ageing hippy central, more Native Indian dress and jewellery than you would see on the reservation... Every anti-war or anti-Bush song was greeted with howls from the anti-establishmentarians; I did notice however that when there was a bit of argy-bargy it took seconds for the crowd to call for the police (A.K.A. "The Man") to sort out the troublemakers.

But down to business David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash are old, and it seems that whereas a lifetime's alcohol abuse has pickled George Jones' vocal chords so effectively that they are untouched by time... The various narcotics have really hammered away at these guys' pipes; I suspect that Marijuana, the great dehydrator, is the main culprit. But that doesn't mean that it isn't really nice to see them, the songs are good and packed with personal memories, the harmonies are perhaps even sweeter with the three voices showing the injuries of experience... Nash is the one who seems in best shape and he combined singing, leading the band and his role as Master of Ceremonies with gentle charm, his Mancunian accent untouched by years in the States; Stills is perhaps the one whose voice is showing the most damage, he recognises this and has taken on the role of Guitar God despite his gammy leg; David Crosby, who seemed hell-bent on ignominious self-destruction just a few years ago, is now the smiling, quiet apex of the triangle. They seemed to be enjoying themselves too, Nash said after one particularly boisterous reception "This is great, I think we'll play every song that Crosby can remember"... All very touching, I don't seem to be able to go to a gig without crying these days, "Our House" was the one that unlocked the lachrymal glands last night.

The venue is amazing, a small, low-slung, amphitheatre in the shadow of the Sandia Mountains, I hope that this film gives a hint of it's splendour...