Atoned
I’ve read a few lukewarm, even disdainful, reviews of Paul
Rodgers’ latest
The Royal Sessions
that I wrote about here yesterday, and already the unimpressed are casting
their shadows over Crosby’s latest
Croz.
I’m no sycophant, nor do I think great artists are exempt from indulging in
drivel or the less than brilliant, either during the peak or further down the
long roads of their careers. But I also think genuine talent sustains itself
[accepting the tragedy of the burn-out] and also that talent deserves its
respect.
And it’s not that it has taken Crosby twenty years to release
another solo album that prompts an unquestioning support! Seeing him live
recently with Stills and Nash, it was evident that the beauty of his singing
voice is fully intact, and that resonates across the songs on this album. So
too do the lyrical polemics: assertions about world peace and observations on
the environment get their occasional polysyllabic articulations: Crosby never
afraid to say it as it is rather than fit more easy-listening modes.
Opener What’s Broken
is an uptempo, even slightly funky song, Mark Knopfler providing trademark
riffs, and the poetic lyrics reflect on the varied lives of a city’s
inhabitants, it seems: references to what’s broken
and abandoned souls and what desperate is and then disciples and angels, it is as if someone is watching and rueing. Second Time I Have contains the line cognitive dissonance they call it, and I
wonder just how small it could be made to be, in me followed by so much disturbing short-sighted shit, they
have to do better than live with it and it’s another song about living in
the city where fear is the antithesis of
peace. Only Crosby could get away with this linguistic directness, even
ordinariness, and the song rouses and builds with scorching guitar heightening
the melodrama of its ponderings. These two are then followed by third Holding On To Nothing, a beautiful
acoustic song classically early Crosby, sung with pristine tenor clarity, then
sweet layered harmonies and a trumpet solo by Wynton Marsalis: yet again quite
reflective and plaintive, Crosby not surprising at 72 ruminating on the
meanings of life, mainly present and future it seems.
This is a thoroughly honest and intelligent album,
beautifully produced by son James Raymond, and the harmonies are as outstanding
as any other work Crosby has done with The Byrds and CSN&Y; Crosby solo vocal
crystallised to perfection on eighth track If
She Called: quite glorious. This is all heightened and consolidated by the
mature reflection on a life for which Crosby is clearly thankful to have
survived and to have found space to amend as well as achieve, as Set That Baggage Down seems to lyrically
assuage and atone for.