David Crosby hated being called “legendary,” which of course made it even more fun to call him that. “It cracks my ass up,” he told me at the start of our conversation. “I feel like this crotchety old curmudgeon.” But he knew the word wasn’t just some cheap rock-press flattery — For Free, his then-new album, was proof that Crosby was still in the middle of an improbable late-life hot streak. He was stoned, cosmic, slightly cranky about the state of the world, but still obsessed with the only thing that mattered: the songs. “Fame, money, all that is bullshit. The songs are the only significant part of what we do.”
Crosby said he was still writing at full capacity, but he was quick to credit his collaborators — son James Raymond, Michael League, Becca Stevens, Michelle Willis, Michael McDonald, Donald Fagen — rattling off their names like a man reading out his fantasy team draft. James, he said, was the ace: “The first thing we ever wrote together was ‘Morrison,’ which was a really good song. But on this record, he wrote the best thing — ‘I Won’t Stay for Long.’ That thing made me cry. Friends called me after hearing it, crying. It’s a fucking wonderful song.”
He says that Michael McDonald is “the best singer in America. Period. Nobody can touch him.” Crosby described singing with him like grabbing a live wire. “You feel like you’ve been stuck with an electric wire. He’s a great player, great singer, great writer. And he only does it for friends — just like me.” Donald Fagen is “half of the best pop writing team in history. Who’s better than Steely Dan? Nobody.” And Joni Mitchell is “as good a poet as Bob [Dylan]. She’s the best of us.”
That reverence is baked into For Free, where Crosby covers Joni’s title track with Sarah Jarosz — a move that’s both a love letter and a quiet middle finger to streaming economics. “They don’t pay us… it’s like you did your job for a month and they gave you a nickel. You’d be pissed. That’s why we’re pissed. I wouldn’t mind if they weren’t making billions, but they are, and they’re not passing it along.”
Even the cover art came with history: Joan Baez painted the portrait. Crosby lit up telling the story. “She did a series of paintings of people she likes — mostly other singer-songwriters. I saw mine, called her up and asked if I could buy it. She said sure. Then I asked if I could also use it for the album cover. She said, ‘Sure, just cut your wallet in half and send it over.’” But the joke was rooted in deep admiration. “Back in the Vietnam days, she’d stand outside draft intake centers telling guys they could be conscientious objectors, that they didn’t have to go. She’d get yelled at, spit on, arrested, and she’d come back the next day. That’s a brave human being.”
The politics don’t stop at the liner notes. “Shot at Me” came from a conversation with a haunted Afghanistan vet in an airport bar. “He was drunk. Said he’d made the best shot of his life in a firefight — 200 yards with an assault rifle — and when he got to the body, it was a 12-year-old boy. War doesn’t just kill soldiers. It kills people who didn’t do shit to anybody.”
For all his fire, Crosby admitted to regrets. “I wasted a lot of time being a hard drug user. Time is a finite resource — you don’t get more. That’s a regret. But now I’m making good choices, good music, and a lot of it. I don’t see everybody else doing that. That gives my little competitive self a thrill.” He laughed, then went cosmic: “The world’s in pretty shitty shape, but music is a lifting force. It makes things better. I don’t know how much time I have — could be two weeks, could be ten years — but the only contribution I can make is to make more music and do it really well.”
Touring was uncertain. “I can’t sleep on buses anymore, so I can’t do those tours. Maybe residencies if the money’s right. I did a benefit in San Francisco, and I was singing good. I love doing it, so never say never.” He even entertained the idea of a Dylan-style streaming concert. “I hear Bob’s was excellent — personal, easy, comfortable. I’ll probably want to do that.”
And before For Free was even out, Crosby already had two more albums in the works — one with James, another with the Lighthouse Band. “We’re writing the next one before this one’s even out,” he laughed. “I’m old and confused and crazy as I always was, and stoned on top of it, but I’m pretty happy. My family thing is good. My friends believe in me, I believe in them. That’s really all there is. And I’m still here. So what the fuck.”
Watch the interview above and then check out the tracks below.
