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 BEATS OF LOVE 

76. In My Dreams by Crosby, Stills & Nash

DAVID CROSBY saved my life. My father died suddenly, a fortnight after a heart-attack which arose when I booted in the telly. I was full of pain and guilt.

I was watching something high-minded on Channel 4 and my portable lost its signal  so I went to ask if I could watch downstairs. The family were all avidly watching Miss World, so collectively answered 'no.' Undeterred, I switched it on anyway. There then ensued a comedic battle of turning it off and on until the crescendo and nobody watched anything on it thereafter. 

In that fortnight lay the promise of a brighter future. I would stop being a jerk, knuckle down and study, strengthen my faith, become supportive, and love my family more. Obviously, the road ahead was me being an even bigger jerk, dropping out of study completely, losing my faith, becoming unsupportive, and loving what remained of my family, less.     

The only light and warmth in my life at the time came out of my stereo speakers, especially the soothing voice and sensitivity of David Crosby. First, his glorious contributions to the Byrds, which got me through unrequited love and stopped me obsessing about suicide. Nobody else had the answers, but I found them in his frank but truly heartfelt lyrics. 

Shortly after, I experienced a sort of suspended reaction to my father's passing as my first breakdown. Because it was some years after I had to fight through the difficult terrain myself. At this pitiful time, when nothing seemed to be going right, I had the great fortune to enter the Corn Exchange and find a copy of If I Could Only Remember My Name. My most played LP really helped me on a profound level at that time. Laughing was an eerily prescient song and I'm so glad it wasn't gifted to George Harrison coz Crosby's delivery is pitch perfect and with a little help from Joni, his harmonic brilliance soars above just about everything and anything. 

Then, I discovered his majestic early work with Stills and Nash and Young that predictably coincided with further breakdowns. Later I bought CSN from Sifters and I was skeptical. 1977 wasn't the golden era of music, but I needn't have worried coz this song is simply mesmerizing. My most played song for once didn't correspond with a crisis point in my life and I was able to engage with it joyously. 

Encapsulated by a night at Nick's Acid Tree when lost in the sheer reverie of it spinning, I danced like a child for a full five minutes. Only the finest songsmiths can have that effect on people. 

Damn right, David Crosby saved my life and Miss Venezuela finished first runner-up