The Monkee habitually threw parties that were “legendary, days-on-end affairs with . Though Nash was married, they spent the first of many nights together.
Oh, dear, let’s give him a minute.” Nash was still contractually bound to his band, the Hollies, in the late ’60s when he met up with Stephen Stills and Crosby at Peter Tork’s house in the Hollywood Hills. plenty of music, sex, dope.” But before anything happened musically with the guys, Nash got with Joni Mitchell while playing Ottawa.
It was, to my very young eyes, a whole new kind of womanhood on display that night.) When Elvis Costello called “a misunderstood masterpiece” in the 2004 Vanity Fair piece he wrote about Mitchell, I felt almost thoroughly vindicated.
But I still can’t get over that Rolling Stone review, and if I ever meet Stephen Holden, I might challenge him to a duel.
The rest of the album is slightly more accessible but filled with unapologetically ambitious arrangements, sophisticated melodies, knowing feminist lyrics – in other words, nobody’s idea of a hit.
Songs like “In France They Kiss on Main Street,” “Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow” and “The Boho Dance” weren’t quite pop, weren’t quite jazz, weren’t quite like anything anyone else was doing. I recall my desire (still strong some three and a half decades later) to defend her honor when Rolling Stone’s Stephen Holden attacked ’s musicality in his review of the album.