He had a sweet voice when he sang and a candid voice when he talked. Brutally honest. Sometimes too much so.
David Crosby was a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame performer in two different harmony-loving groups, the Byrds and Crosby, Stills & Nash. He was a Hall of Fame jerk, too, even by his own account.
"I was not easy. Big ego. No brains," he said in the 2019 documentary "David Crosby: Remember My Name," the most unvarnished, unflattering and revealing portrait of a rock star. "I don't think I was a good lover. I think I was selfish."
But his candidness, even if he sometimes put his foot in his mustachioed mouth, made Croz a Hall of Fame interview, one of the music world's great talkers. Unfiltered to a fault. Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and Neil Young might complain. But not music writers or rock journalist-turned-filmmaker Cameron Crowe.
He produced the aforementioned documentary and filmed interviews with the subject. Having known Crosby since first interrogating him in the early 1970s, Crowe thought the cantankerous contrarian was ready to open up in his 70s.
"He's at a point in his life where he's found a state of grace with himself," Crowe told the Star Tribune in discussing the movie. "You can talk about anything with him. There's some bravery there."
Bravery? Stupidity? Self-awareness? Guilt? Whatever the motivation, he was an overflowing fountain of truth.
Over the years, I interviewed Crosby, who died Wednesday at age 81, several times. He was friendly, chatty and direct. He didn't dodge questions, spin or sugarcoat his answers. He enjoyed conversing so much, he invited me to call anytime — no publicist necessary. Our most recent exchange was in 2019.
