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"The Making Of Sgt. Pepper," Starry Night Benefit To Feature Sir George Martin

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THE GRAMMYs
GRAMMYs
Dec 2, 2014 - 4:06 pm

Legendary GRAMMY-winning producer to participate in pair of GRAMMY Foundation events

GRAMMY.com

On July 11, Sir George Martin will take part in "The Making Of Sgt. Pepper," an intimate reception and multimedia presentation. Presented by the GRAMMY Foundation — along with the Los Angeles Chapter and the Producers & Engineers Wing — and sponsored in part by Best Buy and Harman International, the event will take place at Bovard Auditorium on the University of Southern California campus and begin at 7 p.m.

Friday, July 11
"The Making Of Sgt. Pepper"
Bovard Auditorium, University of Southern California
7 p.m. Reception; 8 p.m. Presentation

Saturday, July 12
Starry Night Gala Honoring Sir George Martin
McCarthy Quad, University of Southern California
6 p.m. Reception; 7:30 p.m. Dinner;
9 p.m. Award Presentation and Concert

Moderated by Martin, "The Making Of Sgt. Pepper" will take the audience on a historical ride through Abbey Road Studios highlighted by music from the Beatles and video appearances by Phil Collins, George Harrison, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. Click here to download a "The Making Of Sgt. Pepper" ticket order form.

Additionally, the GRAMMY Foundation's annual signature gala Starry Night — presented by Gibson Foundation — will honor Martin, a Recording Academy Trustees Award recipient, six-time GRAMMY winner and legendary producer, arranger, composer and author. The event will take place on July 12 at 7:30 p.m. at McCarthy Quad on the University of Southern California campus.

Starry Night will feature tribute performances by some of the most celebrated artists in the world including acclaimed pianist and singer/songwriter A Fine Frenzy (aka Alison Sudol), GRAMMY-winning group America, multi-GRAMMY-winning artist Burt Bacharach, multi-GRAMMY-winning musician Jeff Beck, two-time GRAMMY nominee Chris Botti, multi-GRAMMY nominee Kurt Elling, multi-GRAMMY-winning arranger/composer Dave Grusin, GRAMMY-winning artist Sir Tom Jones, pianist William Joseph, multi-GRAMMY-winning artist Michael McDonald, vocalist/actress Renee Olstead, singer/songwriter Naomi Sommers and multi-GRAMMY-winning artist Jimmy Webb. In addition, members of the Gibson/Baldwin GRAMMY Jazz Ensembles will perform. Multi-GRAMMY Award-winning producer and former GRAMMY Foundation Board member David Foster will serve as the evening's musical director.

Click here to download a Starry Night ticket order form.

bunbury HTWS

BUNBURY

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Herbal Tea & White Sofas: BUNBURY Is A Spanish Rock Star Without The Rock Star Ego

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Spanish rock legend Enrique Bunbury discusses his minimalist backstage essentials for GRAMMY.com's Herbal Tea & White Sofas video series
Ana Monroy Yglesias
GRAMMYs
Jul 28, 2021 - 6:05 am

Spanish rocker BUNBURY got his start as the frontman of Héroes del Silencio in the mid-'80s and has since been deemed a godfather of rock en español in Spain. As he humbly explains in the latest episode of Herbal Tea & White Sofas, despite playing around 11,000 shows so far, his backstage needs are simple.

BUNBURY Is A Minimalist Backstage

While he may be a certified rock star, BUNBURY does not have any stereotypical rock star demands. Hear from the legendary rockero himself in the endearing video above and explore more episodes of Herbal Tea & White Sofas.

Fito Páez Looks Back On His Influential Albums, Talks Love, Astrology & Inspiration Ahead Of 2021 GRAMMY Awards Show

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Son Volt

Son Volt

Photo: Ismael Quintanilla III

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Jay Farrar On Son Volt's New Album 'Electro Melodier' & The Lifelong Draw Of Electric Guitars, Words & Melodies

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During the pandemic, Jay Farrar had more time than ever to craft Son Volt's new album, 'Electro Melodier.' The result is among the 30-year-old band's most personal, oracular and muscular works to date
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Jul 26, 2021 - 4:44 pm

When the Americana heroes Uncle Tupelo broke up during the Reagan administration, they left two unbelievably different rock institutions in their wake. While Wilco spent album after album racing to the brink of experimental chaos before pulling back in the 2000s, Son Volt remained staunchly devoted to the core components of rock 'n' roll storytelling — words, melodies and chord progressions.

Flash forward more than 30 years: The pandemic has given Son Volt’s leader, Jay Farrar, more time to write songs and check out vintage gear. "I had more time to be looking at equipment," the singer/songwriter tells GRAMMY.com. "I came across two amplifiers — one called Electro, the other one Melodier — and I felt like that was emblematic as a title for what I was going for with this record: An emphasis on electric, uptempo, melodic songs."

Farrar couldn't have found two words that better sum up Son Volt's latest, which arrives July 30 via Thirty Tigers. The album is a sequence of well-crafted, warmly-recorded tunes for fans of Tom Petty, the Replacements and Bruce Springsteen. And it's bound to be catnip for those who believe a guitar, a tube amp and a pen comprise the ultimate form of human expression.

GRAMMY.com caught up with Farrar to discuss the road to Electro Melodier, dive into every song on the record and discuss everything from COVID-19 to his 25-year marriage to the civil rights upheaval of 2020.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

You mentioned in the press release that the title comes from the names of two vintage amplifiers. Is an electric guitar through a cranked-up tube amp all one needs to genuinely express themselves?

It is if you had the background I had, yes. If you had the background I had, all you need is an acoustic guitar and a small amp and an electric guitar. It took me a while to realize what I would call the Keith Richards method of using small amps to record. You know, you get a bigger sound. On the very first Son Volt record, there's a small amp pictured on the cover.

This time around, with the pandemic, I had more time to be looking at equipment. I came across two amplifiers — one called Electro, the other one Melodier — and I felt like that was emblematic as a title for what I was going for with this record — an emphasis on electric, uptempo, melodic songs. 

What other gear have you been checking out lately?

On the new recording, I used a baritone acoustic guitar, which is an Alvarez. I've also adapted some new guitars to my live [performance] — when I get back to playing live. I recently had some rotator cuff shoulder surgery from playing too much guitar. Forty years of acoustic guitar took its toll, so like a pitcher in baseball, I got the rotator cuff repair. 

I was told to maybe find a thinner-bodied guitar, so I came across an old Kay Speed Demon guitar that I just put some acoustic pickups in and it sounds like an acoustic guitar. So, that's what I'll be going for whenever we start playing live.

Your debut album Trace just celebrated its 30th birthday. What feelings or memories about its making come to mind?

You know, I was living in New Orleans at the time and I had a lot of my equipment in St. Louis. Some of the other guys in the band were in Minneapolis, so I spent a lot of time driving north to south, up and down Highway 61. I used to take the 55 and the 35, just kind of soaking up those parts of the country. 

I also remember that I think I hooked up a U-Haul trailer to a Honda Civic — one of the hatchbacks — so I would fit all the equipment in there. Crazy things like that that I wouldn't do now, but I did it. [Chuckles]. I put the expenses for that record on my girlfriend's credit card and away we went.

When you mentioned Highway 61, I remembered that tune ["Afterglow 61"] from Okemah and the Melody of Riot. Is that a place you continually return to in your mind?

Yeah, it runs right along the Mississippi here, near St. Louis, as well as in New Orleans and all the way up from Minneapolis. It's a thread that follows the river and, usually, good music follows the river and the road.

To connect the timeline to Electro Melodier, where would you place this record on the arc of your overall development?

That's a good question. It's hard to put it in context, I guess. Since it was a pandemic record, it was a much more hybrid approach to recording. We started doing this Zoom, remote-type recording on the song "These Are the Times," and sort of realized that some of that synergy and chemistry was lost over recording through a computer in a remote location.

So, some of us got together with masks in the studio and brought that chemistry back. Yet, at the same time, it made sense for Mark Spencer, who's the multi-instrumentalist, to add his parts because he has his own studio in Brooklyn. It was kind of a hybrid approach that I felt worked on this recording. I think the pandemic made the ingredients for this record to sound and be different.

At the very least, remote recording means the bassist and drummer can't look each other in the eye. You lose the pocket.

Yeah, absolutely. There were myriad communication-type problems since everyone had a computer with speakers and you're in different studios with audio monitors. We were just trying to mute the feedback loops from the microphone to the speaker, whether it's a computer, headphones, microphone… It was just too much.

Son Volt

Son Volt. Photo: Auset Sarno

Think we could go track-by-track to see what each song kicks up in your mind?

Sure, we can give it a shot.

Let's start with "Reverie."

I think that song represents what the recording is about: Getting back to basics. It starts with a melody. The song itself is just an exercise with wordplay. There's a baritone electric guitar on that song kind of inspired by Glen Campbell's work on "Wichita Lineman."

What can you tell me about "Arkey Blue"?

There's a bar in Bandera, Texas, which is outside of San Antonio, that I visited once. Its claim to fame was that Hank Williams, Sr. played there and carved his name in a table. So, I had some time off, went there, took a photo of the place. I have a sign in my music room where I play music. So, when I was writing that song, I just sort of used that Arkey Blue bar name as a placeholder title for the song itself. 

A lot of lines from that song are directly from a speech Pope Francis gave, talking about turbulent rains never before seen, essentially saying that the pandemic is Earth's way of fighting back. That just sort of blew my mind, the Pope saying that, so that wound up in the song. Ultimately, I just sort of felt like the subject matter in the song has kind of a Noah's Ark vibe, so "Arkey Blue" stuck even though it has meanings that go off in different directions.

Did Hank really carve his name in the table, or was that a rumor?

Ah… well, it's there. It definitely looks the right part. The whole place is straight out of a time warp when you go in there, so it's totally believable that it was Hank, Sr.'s name carved in there. They do have it kind of roped off so people don't mess with it.

How about "The Globe"?

That song, I think, was written through a period of turmoil, both in this country — George Floyd's death protests, Black Lives Matter — and looking at news across the globe. People in Belarus or wherever getting clamped down and their freedoms being curtailed. I think the gist of that song just came out of "We're all in this together across the world." A nod of solidarity to those in this country and across the world.

And "Diamonds and Cigarettes"?

I guess that one could have been called "Ode to a Long-Term Relationship." The clock just turned 25 years of marriage for me. I think the pandemic also made one realize the people around you are incredibly important. So, that was one takeaway. Laura Cantrell sang backups on that one. I've known her since about 1995. She was interviewing when we were playing the first Son Volt shows back in 1995.

What do you appreciate about her approach to the tune, or just her voice in general?

It kind of blew me away. Again, Mark Spencer, who's the multi-instrumentalist in the band, also plays with Laura Cantrell as her guitar player, occasionally. They had a rapport. I know Laura and her husband, Jeremy, so it was an all-in-the-family type of experience. I felt that she really did a great job.

Where does "Lucky Ones" fit into the puzzle?

There were always cross-currents of R&B, soul and country music that I've always liked, whether it was Dan Penn, Charlie Rich or the Flying Burrito Brothers. That was my take, or my attempt at tapping into that aesthetic via rhythm and blues and country soul.

I remember the old cover of the Burritos' "Sin City," so obviously, that DNA runs deep.

[Shyly] Yeah, yeah. For sure.

And "War on Misery"?

A couple of years ago, some kids in town in St. Louis had put a manifesto in my mailbox called "War on Misery." It was kind of a self-published socialist manifesto. I could concur. I could relate. So, that title kind of stuck with me. I was trying to go with a Lightnin' Hopkins type sound. Lightnin' Hopkins would often perform with a regular guitar tuned way down, so he had this deep, baritone sound.

How about "Livin' in the USA"?

It didn't start out as an intentional thing, but in retrospect, I see it as a nod to songs like Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA" or Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World." Both of those songs have a similar thematic thing going on. I feel like those songs establish a thematic tradition, so I was just kind of taking it and running with it.

 But yeah, again, a lot of turmoil going on and looking around and seeing things that don't add up and putting them into the song.

Both songs are antimatter national anthems. Widely misunderstood, too.

Yeah, exactly. There could be some of that that happens with this one as well.

How about "Someday is Now"?

We started to veer off into prog-rock land a bit with that one, but we consciously kept in check. There were a few times in the recording when we had to pull it back from sounding too much like Rush but I think it ultimately sounded more like Zeppelin.

Has prog always been part of your creative stew?

Not so much for me, but it's in there somewhere, I suppose. Once it gets in there, you can't shake it out completely.

Tell me about "Sweet Refrain."

There are some COVID-19 references, I think, in there. "Looking out the window panes" — I spent a lot of time doing that in the last year and a half. Again, there's some references to relationships and that kind of thing, but there's also a line in there: "Another hero is gone," which references people that passed during COVID, like John Prine. 

That song is also an example of a stream-of-consciousness type, where it kind of goes from one verse to the next and jumps around. The final verse references some of the folks in Benton, Mississippi — [Jimmy] "Duck" Holmes and Skip James. I've used that tuning before and I felt like I wanted to tip a hat to that tuning.

And how about "The Levee On Down"? That symbolism weighs heavy in blues and country.

Yeah. I live close to the Mississippi River, so I've driven up and down the levees. They usually have roads on them. You can drive up and down. I was going to make a bad joke about a Chevy on the levee, but I'm not going to do that. 

I'm going to say that from driving up and down Highway 61 into Cape Girardeau, Missouri, when you go about an hour and a half south of St. Louis, there's the Trail of Tears crossing where the Cherokee Indians crossed. Many died on their way to Oklahoma due to the Trail of Tears forced march, and the person that was part of that was Andrew Jackson. He's on the $20 bill.

Then, we've got "These Are the Times."

That was very much a COVID reference. Changing times, and this is where we're at. Let's try to find our way through this.

We're almost through with the record. "Rebetika."

I came across that word in reference to a certain kind of Greek folk music that was described as being close to blues. It had maybe a similar impetus as blues. I just found that to be kind of fascinating. I took the title "Rebetika" and just kind of ran with it.

Then, after "The Globe / Prelude," we close out with "Like You."

Yeah, that was a stripped-down version—almost like a demo—of "The Globe." We were recording that very much in the [midst of the pandemic]; I think it was when the Black Lives Matter protests were going on. We actually released, I think, on Bandcamp during that time frame.

I always tend to forget about the very last song, but then it sticks in my mind. I guess the way I would summarize this whole project is that I had more time to work on the song structures and arrangements — the writing itself — and more time spent recording the vocals. Really, all of it. 

It spanned the course months where often, in the past, the recording would happen between the gigs. With that song, Jacob Detering, who did the engineering, played a sort of drone, a Mellotron-type instrument on that. More time, more team. I think those were elements that went into the making of this record.

Gary Louris Of The Jayhawks On Barely Listening To Roots Rock & His First Solo Album In 13 Years, 'Jump For Joy'

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Press photo of Jimmy Eat World

Jimmy Eat World

Photo: Christopher Wray-McCann

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It Just Takes Some Time: The Story Of Jimmy Eat World's Breakthrough 'Bleed American' At 20

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On their fourth strike, 'Bleed American,' Arizona quartet Jimmy Eat World simplified their sound, swung for the fences, broke into the mainstream, and opened the doors for a new generation of alternative and pop-punk bands
Jim Beaugez
GRAMMYs
Jul 23, 2021 - 6:06 pm

Second chances are hard to come by in the music business, and the 1990s alt-rock gold rush was no different. For every Pearl Jam and Stone Temple Pilots success story, there were bands like Fig Dish and For Love Not Lisa, whose albums failed to launch.

And yet there was Jimmy Eat World, an emo-punk band scooped by Capitol Records right out of high school in '95 only to be dropped after two albums in. Fast-forward to 2002, and the band is performing their breakout hit, "The Middle," on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien." Then "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno." Then "Saturday Night Live." The song's uplifting lyrics—"Don't write yourself off yet ... It doesn't matter if it's good enough / For someone else"—sound almost like a masterclass in self-motivational life lessons.

"The Middle," from Jimmy Eat World's fourth album, Bleed American, which celebrates its 20-year anniversary this month, shot to the Top 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 all-genre chart and made the four then-twentysomethings from Mesa, Arizona, darlings of late-night TV and MTV. While it's easy to read into the lyrics two decades later, the song wasn't written as a kiss-off to their former label. But it was the ultimate about-face, the "phoenix-like rising from the ashes of being dropped," as Steve Martin of Nasty Little Man, who orchestrated the publicity campaign for Bleed American, puts it.

"Where they had gotten in their development, and the musical zeitgeist of the time, were just so aligned," Martin tells GRAMMY.com. "Even if they hadn't been [aligned], it was such an undeniable collection of songs."

For Bleed American, the band went for simplicity. While the album peppered elements from their previous releases—the barbed post-punk guitar riffs from the band's 1996 album, Static Prevails, giving the title track its teeth, the jangly atmospherics from Clarity (1999) chiming in the background of "Hear You Me" and "Cautioners"—the scaled-back approach marked a significant change to their sound. Still, the songs on Bleed American are also front-loaded with hooks that get straight to business: The band reaches both the bludgeoning chorus of "Bleed American" and the bouncy singalong of "The Middle" in 35 seconds flat.

"I think I started finally getting Bruce Springsteen and the Everly Brothers after we made Clarity," lead vocalist and guitarist Jim Adkins says. "I started recognizing that simpler construction, simpler arrangements, [the] everything-you-need/nothing-you-don't type of songwriting is actually really, really challenging and worth pursuing."

Before they made Bleed American, though, they had to get out of their contract with Capitol. Adkins estimates the band sold maybe (his emphasis) 10,000 copies combined of Static Prevails and Clarity. The pairing was a mismatch, according to the band. The label treated Jimmy Eat World like a development project, while Adkins says Capitol was set up to "drop the hammer on the thing that's moving 15,000 to 30,000 [records] a week." So, when the label dropped them in 1999, it was a relief. It was also a chance to rebuild.

In reality, the band simply continued with business as usual. They were already operating as their own European distributor, buying copies of Clarity at wholesale prices from the college department at Capitol and shipping them to Germany; the move paid off when 400 people showed up to their first gig in the country, as Jimmy Eat World were touring to save up money to record Bleed American. Toward that end, they also released Singles, a compilation of their seven-inch singles and one-offs, on the now-defunct independent label Big Wheel Recreation in 2000.

With demos of new songs like "Sweetness" circulating online and in industry channels, the band settled in at Cherokee Studios in Los Angeles with producer Mark Trombino, whose confidence in the band was so high, he waived his fee until the group worked out a new label deal. And sure enough, representatives from major labels began showing up at their recording sessions to see what the buzz was all about.

"It was a very welcomed change," drummer Zach Lind says. "You go from feeling kind of like the red-headed stepchild to being in a position where you have a little bit of leverage, whereas before, we didn't really have any leverage."

Jimmy Eat World 2.0 signed with DreamWorks, an artists-first label created by music industry veteran David Geffen with filmmakers Steven Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg, whose roster also included Elliott Smith, Morphine and Eels. Retooled with a new label, new management, and their new album's title track as the first single, the band hit the promotion circuit hard in the summer of 2001, playing dates on the Warped Tour as well as headlining club shows.

"When 'Bleed American' started happening, things changed quickly," bassist Rick Burch tells GRAMMY.com. "The venues got bigger. We weren't driving ourselves in the van anymore; we had a bus driver and a bus, so we could do far more gigs for a longer stretch, and we were playing in front of more people than we ever had before."

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, changed all that. Although the song was doing well on alternative radio, "Bleed American" "just fell off the face of the Earth" after 9/11 happened, according to Lind.

As Americans regrouped in the aftermath of the world-changing event, so, too, did Jimmy Eat World. They rechristened the album as Jimmy Eat World and transitioned to pushing "The Middle," which was on deck as the second single.

Written in response to a fan email sent to the band's Aol. account in the '90s, "The Middle" addresses themes like alienation and low self-confidence. Its perspective outlines a position of rallying and understanding how someone's teenage years are only a small part, e.g. "the middle," of a person's journey. Radio embraced "The Middle," but what really put the song over the top was the video and its subsequent spins on MTV's "Total Request Live" countdown show.

Paul Fedor, who directed the music video for "The Middle," pitched the theme: A classic dream sequence where you show up to school, work—or in this case, a house party—naked. But in this instance, the roles are reversed. The protagonist shows up to a party fully clothed, while his peers dance and cavort in their underwear. Just as he succumbs to peer pressure, he meets someone just like him. It was a simple concept, but it could have easily gone wrong.

"I think we just decided, 'Let's lean into this and do it and make sure it's done right,' make sure it's not overly gratuitous or inappropriate in a way that feels creepy," drummer Lind says. "So, we tried to thread that needle. I think there was a little bit of apprehension, but once we decided to go down that road, and once we were done with it, we felt really good about it."

As their popularity rose, Jimmy Eat World's touring schedule broadened. They played the main stage at several European festivals to a "sea of humanity," according to Burch, and recorded a sold-out performance at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C., for the Believe in What You Want DVD. The touring bubble insulated them from seeing just how big things had gotten.

"We were just touring, and it all felt like kind of the same way it felt working with Capitol," frontman Adkins says, "[like] we were totally getting away with something. 'This isn't real. We're just taking the ride for the funny stories while we have the chance.' It didn't sink in that, 'Oh, wait, this is actually connecting with people. This is something that is really getting out there.' It wasn't until maybe a record later or two records later we realized actually how big it was."

In summer 2002, as the album's third single, the fan-favorite "Sweetness," peaked at No. 2 on Billboard's Alternative Airplay chart, Jimmy Eat World signed on to open the Pop Disaster Tour co-headlined by Green Day and Blink-182. The two-month jaunt grossed $20 million at amphitheaters and arenas, according to Billboard, and the bands wasted no time in hazing each other.

"We hired some male strippers to storm [Blink-182's] stage during their song 'All the Small Things,'" bassist Burch remembers, with a laugh. "The audience just loved it. They thought it was part of Blink's act, and the Blink guys loved it, too. We actually ended up helping them, giving them a cool element to their set that everyone was stoked with. It wasn't distracting to them at all."

Green Day, however, flexed their "vast resources" mercilessly. "When they came out on stage, the first thing they did was shoot super soakers," Burch recalls. "The next layer was boxes of dehydrated mashed potatoes. [When you] combine that with the water, it turns into glue." Then their crew deployed Ping-Pong balls and glitter bombs from the overhead lighting trusses.

"That starts raining down," Burch adds, "and when the glitter meets the mashed potato glue, it's a very strong bond. Even to this day, there's bits of glitter adhered to the guitar I was playing."

When the dust, and some of the glitter, settled on their nearly two-year campaign for Bleed American, the members of Jimmy Eat World had come home to platinum plaques and an album that continues to rank high on "best of" lists; readers of Rolling Stone voted the album one of the 10 Best Pop-Punk Albums of All Time. Bands tagged with the "emo" label in the years that followed, like Panic At the Disco, All Time Low and Fall Out Boy, owe a big debt to Jimmy Eat World for crashing the gate to mainstream acceptance.

"The way that Bleed American just opened doors for us was maybe one of the most satisfying experiences of my life," Lind reflects. "In the wake of all the frustration and banging our head against the wall at Capitol, it just felt like everything aligned perfectly, and I think we were lucky to be able to experience that in that way, because I don't think a lot of people get that moment in their life."

Saves The Day's Chris Conley Talks 20 Years Of Through Being Cool

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David Crosby

David Crosby

Photo: Anna Webber

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David Crosby On His New Album 'For Free' & Why His Twitter Account Is Actually Joyful

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David Crosby has had a rough go of it recently, losing his income, a child and nearly his house. So why does his new album, 'For Free,' sound so springy, joyful and enamored with the gift of human existence?
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Jul 22, 2021 - 1:23 pm

The music community murmurs about David Crosby's Twitter account like it's a mythical sea monster. To many people online, he's the consummate curmudgeon, an octogenarian sourpuss who shares his dislike for hip-hop and shared his disapproval of the Phoebe Bridgers guitar smash on TV. (Bridgers' retort: "Little b****.") While that vibe is certainly present, a cursory look at Twitter reveals the opposite: An 80-year-old rolling around with his dogs, digging into tacos by the pool and giving thanks for the gift of life.

"It's a game I'm playing, really," Crosby tells GRAMMY.com from his Santa Ynez, California, home on a "stunning" day. "I love my friends and my family and I'm trying to be a decent member of society. I've got no problem with me right now. Since I am here today, all I want to do is use today to do whatever I can to make stuff better." Despite a series of recent, brutal tests, he sounds lighter than ever over the phone — and his new music is his bounciest and most galvanized to date.

We're talking about For Free, his new album which arrives July 23 and represents the brightest star in his recent constellation of albums. (In the 2010s, he put out the good-to-excellent Croz, Lighthouse, Sky Trails and Here If You Listen.) Aside from the elegiac closer, "I Won't Stay For Long," the mood is inexhaustibly upbeat, whether he's covering his beloved Joni Mitchell on the title track or teaming up with his hero Donald Fagen on "Rodriguez for a Night."

Ahead of his performance at the GRAMMY Museum, GRAMMY.com spoke with Crosby about what Twitter teaches him, why he recently sold his catalog and why he's not really a grumpy contrarian, but a man enamored with music and human beings.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

How are you, David?

Elderly and confused! No, I'm fine, man. I'm sitting up here in central California and it's a stunning day. I'm a very happy guy. How are you?

I'm good. I'm originally from around your area. Is the heatwave still happening?

No, it's not real drastic, no. It's OK. It's in the 70s someplace.

Some people tend to paint your Twitter account as being cantankerous, but I find it to be the opposite. It's all about appreciating life as you just described it. It's a very joyful account to me.

To me, it is too, man. Every once in a while, I take a shot at somebody I don't like when they get really pretentious and blown-up. The Kanye Wests of this world, I'll occasionally stick a pin in their balloon. But mostly, I'm not trying to be Howard Stern. I'm really trying to just have fun here. I like people. I think they're fascinating. I like communicating with people.

The other thing about Twitter is that if someone tries to pick a fight, you just delete them. You don't have to deal with it. I don't have to engage in a fisticuffs battle with someone who thinks QAnon is real, for God's sake. If you're that dumb, I don't have to waste my time with you! I like that a lot. It makes it more fun.

It's interesting that you willfully open yourself up to both good people and the lowest common denominator of your fanbase.

Well, some of them are fascinating. You've got to remember: There are both kinds on here. There are Trumpers and other kinds of people who just don't understand what's going on. But there are a ton of fascinating people there too, man. People I've found up being friends with. That's where I met Steve Silberman, my friend from San Francisco. I met him on the Net.

You do meet people. It takes a while. You have to watch what they say and then you get a glimpse of who they are. Then, you test them out. You send something, they respond to it and you eventually suss out who's who. I have actually found some very fascinating people there, and I enjoy it. I like it.

I've seen Steve's tweets. He seems like a sweet guy.

He's a really bright guy. He used to write for Wired. He wrote the best book that anyone's ever written on autism. It's called NeuroTribes. It's a very scientific book, but it's written so well. It reads like a mystery novel. He won some awards with it and stuff. If you're interested in autism, I highly recommend it.

You recently sold your catalog to Irving Azoff. I've seen a lot of opinions out there as to why artists are doing this in droves, much of it misguided. Beyond the financial reality of it, what do you think this deal might do for your catalog and legacy?

It doesn't enrich my catalog or my legacy. I didn't want to do it. I did it because I had to. Here's what happened: We had two ways of making money: Touring, records. Streaming came along; streaming doesn't pay us. It's like you did your job for a month and they paid you a nickel. You'd be pissed. We're pissed. It's a wrong thing.

They threw half of our income away. Half. Gone. So then, we're trying to keep our heads up and we say, "OK, we'll be grateful we can still play live because we're paying the rent and taking care of our families. It's all good." And then, here comes COVID-19, and we can't play live!

What the hell was I supposed to do? I've got a family. I've got a home. I didn't want to lose my house. I don't want them to throw me out in the street. Are you kidding? I take this responsibility seriously. I love these people. I'm trying to do my job. So I did the one thing I could do: I sold my publishing.

Now, the reason everybody did it at the same time is a little more prosaic. A little more grubby. Everybody did it when they did it not because they were out of money like me, but because they know their taxes are all going to be different next year. In the case where you're doing a deal like $300 million, well, you're talking a $10, $20 million difference in taxes. So of course, they did it when they could get that advantage.

Regarding streaming, do you think the other shoe will drop?

I do not. I do not think it will change. I think all content — audio and video — will be streaming.

What happened, man, is they thought the technology up. They went to the record companies and they said, "Imagine no physical object." The record companies, who are not stupid, said "That'd be wonderful! No packaging? No pressing plants? No shipping! No returns! Nothing! We just send a signal and collect the money?"

They said, "What do we have to do to do that?" The streamers said, "You have to change the pay structure. You're paying all that money to these rich rock stars. You have to pay it to us instead." The record companies said, "We can do that! All you'd have to do to get us to do that is give us a piece of your company!" And they did. 

The reason the record business is doing just fine on paper is they're making a f***ing ton of money. Except they're not sharing it with the people who make the music. So, that's why we did it. I didn't want to. That's the one thing that I own. I didn't want to sell it. Of course, I didn't.

The Cameron Crowe documentary Remember My Name showed how you live modestly in a comfortable home. You don't live in the lap of luxury.

Yeah. It is comfortable, and you're right, it's not grandiose. I live in a little adobe house in the middle of a cow pasture, in the middle of a clump of trees. But it's really pretty and really peaceful and really sweet. We've been planting these plants and trees for 25 years and we love it a whole lot. So, yeah, we didn't want to lose it.

Clearly, having to sell your sailboat was heartbreaking.

Yeah, that hurt. I've had a lot of painful stuff in the last couple of years. Things couldn't go right.

Leaving CSN, I feel, was a very good thing, but very hard. I didn't like the guys. Nash and I were really not getting along at all. 

So, I'm kind of glad I did it, but the following couple of years have been hard. Financially hard, physically hard — a lot of physical stuff going on. I lost a son, which was just painful to a level that's hard to describe. And I, frankly, am very worried about my country. I think we're in a lot of trouble. I think it's better than it was, but I think we've got some real problems.

But, you know, I'm not whining and sniveling here, man. I'm lucky that I'm alive. Let's start there. There's a very good chance I wouldn't be. And I am, and I'm grateful for it. I'm lucky that I get a family that's wonderful, and I love them. 

I'm lucky that I can still sing. That's sheer luck. I did everything wrong. There's no excuse. And yet, here I am and I can sing. What do I do? I don't know if I've got two weeks or 10 years. I do know that I'm here right now. And if I concentrate on that, I can still have a lot of fun right now, today, making art that's good.

Frankly, man, the world is in kind of s*** shape. There's a lot of stuff wrong. Music's a lifting force. It makes things better.

That's what I feel when I listen to For Free. The music is so bouncy and galvanized. It seems like a tribute to the way music can be a counterweight to boredom and suffering.

Yeah, that's the idea. Yes, the record does feel like that, mostly. We didn't have a plan, man, but we certainly like it. That's what we certainly want to do: Be as joyful as we possibly can.

The best song on the record isn't joyful. It's thoughtful and sad and spooky and beautiful: "I Won't Stay For Long." There's a joy to that, too: That's how good [my son and collaborator] James [Raymond] has grown up to be.

And that seems like another part of the record's essence: Your love and admiration for your family, friends and fellow musicians.

It's a thing that happens to me, man. I wrote "Wooden Ships" with Stephen Stills and Paul Kantner. At the time, it just sort of happened. But in retrospect, I realize that's really a good thing. The other guy always thinks of something you didn't. It widens your palette of colors. It widens the possible reality that you're addressing. It's an excellent idea.

Most people take all the credit and all the money and they play it that way. [affects smarmy tone] "I'm the one who did it. Just me." I think my willingness, my joy at writing with these other people have extended my useful life as a writer for about 10 years, 20 years. And that's really a good thing, because here I am. I'm 80 years old, I've got a really good record ready to drop and I'm working on two more.

How has James developed as a songwriter and musician over the years?

He's written a ton of good songs with me. Frankly, a lot of the best stuff I've done in the last 20 years — Crosby & Nash; Crosby, Stills & Nash; the Croz record; the Sky Trails record; and now this record. He's matured as a writer. That's the best song on the record, "I Won't Stay For Long." No question.

It gave me shivers earlier.

Oh, my god. It's a beautiful song. He nailed it. Am I proud of him? Yes, I am. Am I grateful that he's still my joyful pal? Yes, I am. I just got off the phone with him. We're a really good match. The only weird thing about the relationship with James is that he's the adult and I'm the kid.

How's that?

Well, there's a rumor that I was going to grow up, but it just didn't really pan out. I'm not really a very adult person. I'm sort of like the nine-year-old in the relationship and he's the 30-year-old. He's the designated driver. He's a much more serious person than I am and definitely smarter.

David Crosby

David Crosby performing with the Byrds in 1965. Photo: CBS via Getty Images

On the topic of your family — and feel free to not broach this at all — I was thinking about Beckett and the saddening news about him. Losing a child is tragic on any level, but I was thinking that it must have kicked up extra-complicated emotions since another couple raised him.

Yeah, very tough. He was a nice kid. If you'd have known him, you would have been devastated, because he was a shiny, brainy, funny, laughing, curious, sweet, extremely bright kid. He and his sister, that was me and [my wife] Jan [Dance] trying to be good human beings and share the joy that we had.

We had Django; that was a stunning kid. Melissa [Etheridge] and Julie [Cypher] came to visit us and said "Oh my god, how do you get one of those?" Jan pointed at me, and they said "Wha… you kidding?" And she said, "No, he'll do it." I thought it over and I said "Yeah." We liked them a lot. They had been together for nine years or something. They looked stable and good. It seemed to us that lesbians have just the right to have kids as anybody else.

So, we volunteered to do that and the kids were stunners. Bailey [Jean Cypher] is just an absolutely brilliant girl, and beautiful. Beckett was the same. Bright and beautiful. Well, it didn't go well for that family. They wound up fighting each other, Melissa and Julie. That's not good, and he wound up being unhappy and he went out in the world and ran into some fentanyl that killed him.

It's a bitter pill, man. There's nothing you can do to make it light or funny or good. It's just awful.

Well, the joyful thing I can think of is in Beckett's life. You mentioned your insatiable curiosity about the human condition, which stretches through your work. I imagine the apple didn't fall from the tree with those kids, since you describe them as so brilliant.

Mm-hmm. Yep. The visits here were a lot of fun. They got along very well with Django and we were a joyous bunch together. 

From Croz to Lighthouse to Sky Trails to Here if You Listen to For Free, the throughline, to me, is you holding onto life kicking and screaming: "Please give me more years on the planet. Don't take music away from me. I love my house and family and dogs and horses. The world is largely a beautiful place."

That's a really clear read on it, man. That's good. You can do my eulogy. It is like that. It's just like that. I'm very grateful and I'm going to keep working until I drop. It's more fun than sitting around waiting to drop.

All these people are like, "Crosby's such a bitter old man!" and I'm like, "What are you talking about? He's more positive than anybody my age!"

I try to be, man. There's a certain curmudgeon thing that's fun to do. To be a crabby old man. [affects geriatric voice] "You kids don't know nothin'!" That kind of thing. It's fun and I'll do it to a degree, but it's a game I'm playing, really. 

I feel good. I feel good about the choices that I make and I feel good about my life. I feel good about what I think is valuable. I'm behaving relatively sanely. I have a good time. I smoke a little pot; it doesn't seem to hurt anything. I love my friends and my family and I'm trying to be a decent member of society. I've got no problem with me right now. Since I am here today, all I want to do is use today to do whatever I can to make stuff better.

We're arguably living through the most turbulent era since the '60s, but back then, someone like CSNY would write "Ohio" and it'd be on the radio within days. It doesn't seem like culture is stepping up to produce work that reflects or shapes the times. Do you feel that way, and if so, is it frustrating to watch?

Yeah, to a degree, I do feel that way. I wish the art were addressing the situation more. You see people being very brave. This Greta Thunberg girl is so brave out there telling the truth. 

You think, "Geez, why aren't the adults going along?" Well, we've got a whole bunch of people in our government who don't even believe global warming's real and couldn't care less anyway. They want power, and they're going to try to stop everything Joe Biden and the Democrats want to do to address it. Not because it's wrong, but because they want to stop everything the Democrats want to do. It's about power. It's not about the subject at all. 

And in so doing, they're ruining us and the rest of the world, many of whom are trying to do the right thing. It's a tough situation. Tough. I don't know how it's going to play out. The point is, if you can read and think, you'd better get down to your voting office and vote as often and as responsibly as humanly possible.

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