Wild Tales: A Rock & Roll Life

Wild Tales: A Rock & Roll Life

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by Graham Nash

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From Graham Nash—the legendary musician and founding member of the iconic bands Crosby, Stills & Nash and The Hollies—comes a candid and riveting autobiography that belongs on the reading list of every classic rock fan.
Graham Nash's songs defined a generation and helped shape the history of rock and roll—he’s written


From Graham Nash—the legendary musician and founding member of the iconic bands Crosby, Stills & Nash and The Hollies—comes a candid and riveting autobiography that belongs on the reading list of every classic rock fan.
Graham Nash's songs defined a generation and helped shape the history of rock and roll—he’s written over 200 songs, including such classic hits as "Carrie Anne," “On A Carousel,” "Simple Man," "Our House," “Marrakesh Express,” and "Teach Your Children." From the opening salvos of the British Rock Revolution to the last shudders of Woodstock, he has rocked and rolled wherever music mattered. Now Graham is ready to tell his story: his lower-class childhood in post-war England, his early days in the British Invasion group The Hollies; becoming the lover and muse of Joni Mitchell during the halcyon years, when both produced their most introspective and important work; meeting Stephen Stills and David Crosby and reaching superstardom with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young; and his enduring career as a solo musician and political activist.  Nash has valuable insights into a world and time many think they know from the outside but few have experienced at its epicenter, and equally wonderful anecdotes about the people around him: the Beatles, the Stones, Hendrix, Cass Elliot, Dylan, and other rock luminaries. From London to Laurel Canyon and beyond, Wild Tales is a revealing look back at an extraordinary life—with all the highs and the lows; the love, the sex, and the jealousy; the politics; the drugs; the insanity—and the sanity—of a magical era of music.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Nash delivers here a no-holds-barred, fiercely honest chronicle of the glories, excesses, disappointments, and joys of the rock-and-roll life. In the evocative and haunting style of his best songs (“Carrie Anne,” “Teach Your Children,” “Our House,” “Chicago”), Nash tells of his childhood in the rough-and-tumble north of England; his developing love of music and the formation, with Allan Clarke, of his first band, the Fourtones, who eventually became the Hollies; his introduction, through Cass Elliott, to David Crosby; his relationships with Joni Mitchell and Rita Coolidge; and his tumultuous relationship with group Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. Even with Stills’s and Young’s virtuoso guitars and Crosby, Nash, and Stills’s genius for weaving harmonies around each other and flying into soaring musical flights, the group was anything but harmonious, and Nash doesn’t hold back in his descriptions of the titanic struggles between Stills’ and Young. After all these years, Nash says that he never tires of the unique sound that CSN makes: “It’s like the pull of gravity to the center of the earth; when I sing with those two, it keeps my world in balance.” Nash’s love of songwriting is undiminished, and lyrics and music continue to flow through his pen. Nash’s tour-de-force tale reveals a soul who is “a complete slave to the muse of music. Agent, Jillian Manus, Manus & Assoc. (Nov.)
From the Publisher
"Provocatively honest." –New York Daily News
"There are indeed wild tales to tell...Nash wasn't pulling back on the lurid details." -Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
"Shockingly candid." –Daily Express (UK)       
"Though CSN and CSNY made more than their share of beautiful music together and lived in a kind of hippie heaven replete with mansions, money and free love, Nash doesn't hesitate to share the dark side of stardom, too, particularly the drug-fueled ego trips and meltdowns that so often derailed the group....[But] the reader is inclined to believe that the drugs, the women, the accolades and the money were never the point. 'It always comes down to the music,' Nash says. And that's what makes this trip worth taking." –USA Today
“A no-holds-barred, fiercely honest chronicle of the glories, excesses, disappointments, and joys of the rock-and-roll life. . . Nash’s tour-de-force tale reveals a soul who is ‘a complete slave to the muse of music.’” –Publishers Weekly
“The story of a man’s life and his unshakeable passion to express himself through his art. Fans might say the book is long overdue, but it was definitely worth the wait.” –Booklist
Kirkus Reviews
Down-to-earth autobiography of one of the great voices and songwriters of classic rock. Nash was raised in a Manchester, England, council house by working-class parents who allowed him to pursue his musical dreams rather than let him fall into the pattern--school, work, marriage, retirement, death--of so many of his fellow Mancunians. As a member of Crosby, Stills and Nash in the 1970s, he would note his narrow escape from that fate in the song "Cold Rain." Nash was also fortunate to be a member of the Hollies just when London record company executives were falling all over themselves looking to duplicate the phenomenal success of Liverpool's Beatles. With the Hollies, he honed his voice for harmony and his ear for the elements of a hit (including his 1968 classic "Carrie Anne"). But as the 1960s progressed and he developed a curiosity about art, drugs and big ideas, Nash grew apart from his old mates, especially as they failed to support his interest in nontraditional song approaches like the druggy pop of "Marrakech Express." In Los Angeles, he fell in with a hipper crowd that included David Crosby, Stephen Stills and an intense Canadian-born genius named Joni Mitchell, who became his lover and muse (notably, in the monster hit "Our House"). Nash has some insightful things to say about that other Canadian-born genius Neil Young, as well as other lions of the period, including Cass Elliot, Rita Coolidge, Paul Simon, Ahmet Ertegun, Jackson Brown and others. Nash pulls no punches, shining light on his peers' good and bad points (as well as his own), but he manages to come across as a solid, sensible, bighearted chap. An entertaining, intimate portrait of rock music--and how it was made--in an age of excess.

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Read an Excerpt


August 1968

It always comes down to the music.

I had a tune running through my head as my flight touched down a few minutes late at LAX. All my life I’ve had music in my head, but that night the tune (the theme from the TV series 77 Sunset Strip) was doing battle on my behalf, helping me fend off the other shit that was rattling around in there. For the past few months, my well-ordered world had been turned upside down, and throughout the long flight from London everything seemed to gang up on me. There was no escaping it in that crowded cabin. With few distractions, I’d taken stock of the difficult choices on my holy mess of a plate.

How’s this for starters: I was contemplating leaving my country, my marriage, my bank account, and my band—all at once! Any one of those would have been enough to put a grown man in the hole, but I was close to running the table.

My band, the Hollies, and I had come to an impasse. We had grown up together, spent many years making music, writing songs, drinking and larking about; we’d had a fantastic string of hits, incredible success—but from where I stood we were growing apart. I’d moved on, I was headed in an exciting new direction, and my heart and soul weren’t in the Hollies anymore.

The same with my marriage. My wife, Rosie, and I had been drifting for some time. We both knew things were coming to an end. In fact, for the last six months, we’d started seeing other people. Now she was off in Spain chasing another man, and I was on my way to Los Angeles to visit a woman who had captured my heart.

I was also in love with LA and the States. I’d known it from the moment I first set foot on American soil. It was the Promised Land, and I was drenched in the Hollywood scene—the music, the sun, the palm trees, the attitude, the looseness. The way people there asked me, “What do you think?” In England, nobody ever asked your opinion of anything. You learned to keep your business to yourself, to mind your p’s and q’s. In America it seemed like there were no rules, everything was up for grabs, and I loved the freedom of it. I wanted all of it for myself.

No doubt about it, my life had gotten complicated. I was at a hell of a crossroads. There were plenty of unanswered questions. My plight became more apparent as I got off the plane and headed to the taxi stand. There was no point stopping for baggage. I had my guitar, that was it, that was all I had come with. Nothing else mattered. I was in America. I was going to see my new girlfriend, to be with Joni.

The sun had just left the western sky as the cab crawled up Laurel Canyon, bathing the Hollywood Hills in the golden flush of summer. I got a great vibe every time I came up here. Only a few minutes from the madness of the Strip, but a world apart. There was a shabby hippie chicness to it, with crazy little houses on stilts teetering along each side of the twisty-turny road. It was a place where there were free-spirited people just like me doing the things that I wanted to do, being creative and making music. I felt the pull of Laurel Canyon, its community spirit. Man, it looked like home to me.

We stopped in front of a small wooden house on Lookout Mountain Avenue. It wasn’t a posh affair, just a one-bedroom bungalow, a little jewelbox, with a sloping shingled roof and a lovely garden out back on a lick of land. A tiny tree had taken root near the porch. A green VW van was parked by a mailbox at the curb. Inside, lights glowed brightly and I could hear the jingle-jangle of voices rising in unison. I knew she had company; I’d called her from the airport. And I knew who was with her. Still, I hesitated, fearing to intrude. I leaned on my guitar case and considered again where I was and what I was doing. Deep down, I was still a kid from the north of England, a place that continued to leave its mark on me. Sure, I know, I was an English rock star, I had it made. But my past made me feel that I wasn’t cool, that maybe, even now, I was out of my element. Ahhh—what the hell? I’d been in all kinds of situations the past ten years. No point in getting hung up on that now.

Suddenly, Joni was at the door and nothing else mattered. It had been a few months since we’d last seen each other—and that was, in fact, the first time we’d met—but our connection was instant. Joni Mitchell was the whole package: a lovely, sylphlike woman with a natural blush, like windburn, and an elusive quality that seemed lit from within. Her beauty was almost as big a gift as her talent, and I’d been pulled into her orbit, captivated from the get-go.

Behind her, sitting at the dining room table, two men I’d expected to see were finishing dinner. I grinned the moment I laid eyes on them.

“Hey, Willy!” David Crosby called from across the room, using a nickname reserved for my closest friends. He was one of those incredible guys it was impossible not to like, a gregarious character, irreverent as hell, with a gorgeous voice and a great sense of humor. I’d met him almost two years earlier, when he was still a member of the Byrds, and we’d become fast friends. There was something that just clicked when we were together. We were on the same wavelength. We loved the same music and the same kind of women, including Joni, who’d been a lover of his some months back. Croz was a no-bullshit kind of guy who called things as he saw them. Besides, he always had the best dope in LA—maybe the best dope anywhere.

The guy next to him was Stephen Stills, an amazing guitar player who was in Buffalo Springfield, one of the primo LA bands. We’d gotten to know each other a little the last time I’d been in the States. He was already something of an underground legend, a guy who played and held his own with Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix, totally unique, with a slew of incredible songs. Together, Stills and Crosby were a powerful combination. They had great chops, and I could tell from things they said that they had something cooking.

Seeing them put me totally at ease. Plus Joni really loved them. Stephen had played on her first album, which David had produced. They were all great friends, really comfortable in each other’s company, and were eager to roll me into their circle.

Crosby had been smokin’ it before I got there and was reasonably high, so I had some catching up to do. They must have been making some music, too, because guitars were lying all over the place, which I’d come to learn was par for the course. In that Laurel Canyon scene, people always brought their guitars to dinner. They took their guitars everywhere; it was part of who they were. And at some point, someone would always say, “Get a load of this new song I’m working on.” You could set your watch by it, never failed.

I hadn’t been there a half hour when David whacked Stephen on the arm and said, “Hey, play Willy that song we were just doing.” Stephen, who was sunk into an armchair next to a giant antique pig from a carousel, uncurled and grabbed his guitar. He fingerpicked a few bars of a beautiful intro while David walked over next to him and joined him in the verse. “In the morning, when you rise / do you think of me and how you left me crying . . .” Their harmonies were gorgeous, airtight, two-part—Stephen on the melody with David underneath—that rivaled the Everly Brothers. “Are you thinking of telephones / and managers and where you got to be at noon?” I was blown away. The song, “You Don’t Have to Cry,” was a killer, and their voices double-killed it. You hear something like that, you know it’s special right away. The words and tune were perfectly pitched.

They got to the end and I said, “Fuck, that’s a fabulous song! Man, Stephen, you wrote a beauty.” I glanced at Joan, who was sitting by the piano, and flashed her a smile before asking them: “Would you mind doing it again?”

They looked at each other, shrugged, and said, “Okay.”

The next time around I really concentrated on the lyric and the way their voices intertwined and shadowed each other. Hearing them individually, you’d think they’d sideswipe each other. David’s tenor was polished to a high gloss, while Stephen’s voice was husky and less disciplined, influenced by bluesy southern roots rock. Somehow they didn’t compete so much as complement. And they had a natural vibrato, which cast a haunting shade. Those cats could sing.

But so could I.

“Okay, bear with me here,” I said when they finished. “Do it one more time.”

Three times, the same song. They must have thought I was stoned out of my gourd. But I was English and a guest, they figured let’s amuse this guy. Now, I’m a quick study, so I already knew the words and had the harmony down. I’d been listening to it internally and thinking: I know what to do, I know where to go, I got it—I got it. As Stephen launched into the intro again, I casually made my way over, standing to his left, and when they hit the opening line—I’m there. I had my breath down, the phrasing, the tuning. I put my harmony above Stephen, and off we sailed. You are livvvv-ing, a reality / I left years ago and it quite nearly killed me. In the lonng run . . . What a sound! We were locked in, tight as a drum. Flawless three-part harmony. It sounded so soft and beautiful, so incredible that a minute or so into the song we collapsed in laughter. Especially when we hit that chorus. It was insane!

“Wow! Wait a second. What the fuck was that?”

The three of us were harmony freaks and came from groups that had refined two-part as an art: the Hollies, the Springfield, and the Byrds. But the sound we’d just made was different, so fresh. We had never heard anything like it before. It was the Everly Brothers plus. And yet so simple: just one acoustic guitar and three people singing as one.

It shocked David and Stephen. I’m not sure they’d ever thought about the song in three parts. But I’d heard it right away.

Crosby was beaming ear to ear. “That’s the best thing I ever heard!” he said.

I asked Joni: “Did that sound as incredible to you as it did to me?”

“Yeah, it sounded pretty incredible.”

Something magical had happened, and we all knew it. When you sing with two or three people and you get it right—when the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts—everything kind of lifts a couple feet off the ground. The three of us were levitating, all right. The vibe was so high, it was hard to touch down. There was an intense joy that we had found something new, an original sound different from anything that was out there. It was there, complete, a minute into our relationship. We all felt it, knew it. We wanted it for ourselves. But we were reluctant to discuss how to pull it off. It was almost as if we were afraid to talk about it, to let the secret out in case it wasn’t there tomorrow morning.

Besides, there were so many roadblocks in our paths. To sing with these guys I would have to sever my ties with the Hollies—not such an easy thing to do. For one thing, they were my mates; I loved those guys. Allan Clarke and I had been joined at the hip since we were six years old, and I was an integral part of the group. I’d have to get out of my record contract, get my publishing rights back. It was a mess, but it could be done. Stephen had to figure out how to extricate himself from Buffalo Springfield.

“We have to make this work,” he said.

I nodded. “We have no fucking choice but to make this work.” There was no doubt in my mind. The moment I heard that sound I knew the rest of my life was headed in another direction. No two ways about it. I had no choice.

Eventually the guys left and, frankly, I was happy to see them go. I only had three days to spend with Joan, to get to know her intimately, and there are some things that even music doesn’t trump. Nor did I see them the rest of the weekend. I was just with Joan; let’s get real. But I couldn’t get that sound out of my mind. I was haunted by those voices, the way they’d blended so naturally. And those guys. And their songs.

On the flight back to London, I was more fidgety than ever. Not confused: I knew now what was in my heart. I had fallen deeply in love with Joni Mitchell. I was a goner in that department. And those two rascals, Stills and Crosby, were messing with my head. Maybe I had fallen for them, as well.

Everything in my world was spinning, colliding, but I knew what I had to do. There was no doubt in my entire body. And by the time the plane touched down I had it all figured out. I was going home to untangle the first twenty-six years of my life, and to tie up loose ends for the next however many decades. I had heard the future in the power of those voices. And I knew my life would never be the same.


In 1996, I found myself in Blackpool of all places, a kind of run-down seaside resort where workers from northern England ventured for relaxation, and where I happened to be spending some precious downtime. My two sons, Jackson and Will, were with me, and one hazy afternoon as we strolled down New South Promenade, I detoured into a joint called the Kimberley Hotel, whose two-and-a-half-star Trip Advisor rating kind of says it all. At the front desk, the porter on duty looked up from a magazine he was reading as we hovered into sight.

“Listen, I have a really strange question,” I said.

He waved a hand to cut me off. “It’s around the corner. You go down two stairs and turn left.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, with something less than tact, “but how do you know what I’m about to say?”

Meet the Author

GRAHAM NASH is a two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee—once with CSN and once with The Hollies.  He was also inducted into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame twice—both as a solo artist and with CSN. And, he is a Grammy award winner. In 2010, Nash was appointed an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) by Queen Elizabeth for his contributions as a musician and philanthropist. An activist for social and environmental justice, he is also an artist, acclaimed photographer and photography collector. His company Nash Editions’ original IRIS 3047 digital printer lives in the National Museum of American History at the Smithsonian Institution in recognition revolutionary accomplishments in the fine arts digital printing world. He lives in Hawaii with his wife, Susan.

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Wild Tales: A Rock & Roll Life 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 42 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
wow! My thoughts on Wild Tales...... Simply...it was one of the best written musical autobiographies I've ever read. I listened to Graham Nash deliver his story and had a hard copy to the side to see the photos included. candid... surprisingly heartwarming...sometimes heart-wrenching.... I couldn't put it down. "Graham Nash—the legendary musician and founding member of the iconic bands Crosby, Stills & Nash and The Hollies has given us a work that belongs on the reading list of every classic rock and roll fan." In a fiercely intense chronicle, we revel in moments of glory and success but we are not spared "dark side of stardom, "particularly the drug-fueled ego trips and meltdowns" that accompany tales of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Wild Tales journals amazing times in the world of rock music..yet, you can't help feel a certain sadness for all of the times "Wasted on the Way." Yes, "it all comes down to the music "(Graham Nash) but we learn so much more about love, friendship and loyalty. I recommend this not only to CSN(Y) fans but to all "students" of classic rock and roll. It's chronicled with precision and has a historical presence. If you want an honest look at this time period and the journey of CSN (Y), it's here. No holds barred. You'll also explore many of the passions of Graham Nash's life... Don't pass by this one!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Graham Nash has had a long and full career, and life, as a rock star. We find it all here: the beginning sounds of rock and roll — he saw Bill Haley in Manchester in 1957 when he was 15 and an aspiring musician; the thrill when he heard at a dance, also in 1957, a recording of the Eberly Brothers “Bye Bye Love” and was stopped in his tracks and could only muster, “What the f… was that!”, marking Nash’s beginning love for harmony; the formation of the British group, the Hollies; the early success and staying power of the Hollies, sharing stages with Johnny and the Moondogs, that later morphed into the Beatles, then the Beatles and Stones. There is the allure of America, from the Hollies first US tour, Nash’s leaving the Hollies, and the beginnings of his life in America: drugs, Joni Mitchell, more drugs, David Crosby, a lot more drugs, Stephen Sills and his craziness, more drugs, the special sound of Crosby, Stills and Nash (CSN), Neil Young and the edgier CSNY. There were decades of ups and downs, not from their music together but their lives together: Stills’ mercurial, crazy behavior, Young’s intensity and in and out of the group, and Crosby’s slow, steady deterioration from drugs. Besides the rock trajectory, Nash as a person is revealed to us. Besides his rock career, Nash becomes, quite early, a gifted photographer, and creates Nash Editions, one of the premier digital print makers in the world. He makes art and unselfishly supports critical political and environmental causes. Nash portrays himself as a simple guy, which he is. But he’s also drawn to complex personalities like Mama Cass, Stills and Young, and most of all, David Crosby. Sure, Nash and Crosby belong to the same rock band, they’re friends and colleagues for decades, they do heavy drugs together. But Nash stops, in 1984, and Crosby does not. Crosby goes through a life of down-spiraling events with heavier drugs, use of guns, car crashes, arrests, failed attempted intervention by Nash, Jackson Browne and others, prison, and a slow, not-so-smooth resurrection, then liver disease and a transplant. As the drug usage, and Crosby’s dependence, deepens, the music still goes on. This is what keeps Nash, and probably the others, together, however disjointed. Something unexpected happens as the story unfolds. You enter that close private space between Nash and Crosby. After Crosby recovers from the drug usage, by and large, he is diagnosed with liver failure and, for yet another miracle for Crosby, he finds a transplant. The prognosis for the transplant is not optimistic and, as always, Nash is there when Crosby is about to be wheeled into the operating room. Nash leans down to Crosby who is barely conscious and whispers, “Hey, if you leave me here with Stills, I’ll f…… kill you.” It’s the most telling and touching moment in the book. Crosby survives, marries a woman he shared drug abuse and recovery with, discovers he has a son from an early one-night stand, and connects with the son, has a child with his wife, and comes through it all. We’re delighted and share Nash’s pleasure in the survival of Crosby and the CSN sound. For Nash all the tribulations are trying and frustrating, but all he really cares about his own family, his CSN family and especially David Crosby, and above it all, making some great music. As he ends the book: “It all comes down to the music.” And he’s still at it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Nash's style goes beyond the typical rock autobiography. Insightful, witty, poignant, and most of all-TRUE, not just because he lived it, but because of the pure honesty throughout the narrative. Cheers to a great book from a very humble Rock and Roll Icon. Refreshing in today's world of hype and tripe in the music world. Nash never loses the connection to his Blackpool roots. Well Done Willy !
victoryatC More than 1 year ago
This is a great book. Interesting and historically educational. Nash has written a very good description of the early days of rock and roll into the love and peace period and beyond. He also explains the inspiration behind a great many of his classic songs. I read Neil Young's book "Waging Heavy Peace" when it first came out and I found it scattered, not that informative, and seemingly a commercial every other chapter for Young's business interests in eco-car technology and better sounding MP3 type music. Did not enjoy it that much. Nash's book is well worth the money. I would hope he would do a volume two but he pretty much covered everything in this book. Great job, Graham.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Graham Nash is a rockstar, but not necessarily one everyone would recognize by name until you put it in the context of Crosby Stills Nash and Young. This is Graham's story of his rise to fame. He starts with his lower class English upbringing, then his time with The Hollies. Of course superstardom came with Crosby Stills and Nash. That's where the story really gets interesting. He includes information on his romances and interesting stories about other bands such as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. All said and done, it is a wonderfully entertaining autobiography.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
    Very entertaining read! Lots of personal stories told very straight forwardly. Graham maynot be well known outside of the groups he's been in but we are all going to know a lot more about that stuff after reading this! A great account of a life well lived and fun to read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
You can ONLY view this on select devices!!! Be careful if you are purchasing or giving as a gift!!! Your recipient may very well no be able to access it - as I was not!!!
efm More than 1 year ago
insightful, well written, entertaining........
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The "enhanced" feature does not work on any of the Nooks.  
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Graham has been a great influence on me.I have to say that before I say anything more. His songs have always been brilliant and his voice is angelic. What bugs me about this book is the incessant bragging about his good fortune. it is good, but NOT everyone will feel good reading about it. It can lead one to think hey,why did I not get any of that luck? it was not luck Graham. at all.it was either a higher power, or hard work. Maybe both. Great reading anyway. Insulting at times to those who once were.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
So glad that I bought this book!. The enhancement feature worked perfectly. He would mention a particular song and then on the Nook you can press play and hear a portion of that song. I enjoyed his insight and detailed recollections of his childhood, the Hollies and CSN. I'll rereading this one for sure. So glad that I bought it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I enjoyed this book emmensely. I've been in a 1960's/70's reverie ever since. What simpler, more creative more revolutionary times!I happy to see/hear all the band members are alive, well and rockin' and continue to contribute their fascinating stories to the world.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is an incredible book! I experienced it as a book on tape and, OMG, it was amazing to have Graham himself narrate it! I was suprised by the rating for this book on this site, 3.5 stars, but realized quickly when I lscanned yhrough the reviews already left, one person had isses with their Nook and gave the book a 1 star rating in multiple reviews. My feeling is if you enjoy rock-n-roll this book is a must read no matter your age!
beachfrau More than 1 year ago
Nicely written autobiography about Graham Nash. He shares many insights into his time with the Hollies and CSN and CSNY. If you enjoy CSN music, you might appreciate what inspired many of their songs. Ever wonder why Neil Young left CSN? That's in here, too. Mr. Nash shares his thoughts about his family and friends, his bandmates and the women in his life. He writes about many of the 1960 music icons that he has met and who have influenced him and his music. He shares some of his life perspectives. Good read!
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Great read. First person writing made it more interesting. Outstanding insight into extreme talent & it's ramifications on personal relationships.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
He had a cool book in him. Learned so many things about our era and the birth of rock.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago