This is the second part of a five-part interview with Rock & Roll Hall of Fame member Richie Furay. You can find the first part here.
Throughout Furay’s work in Buffalo Springfield, Poco, and the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, there was a freedom in the songs, letting the ideas play themselves out instead of trying to compress things into a three-minute pop song every time. Examples are “Crazy Eyes” (the title track from Furay’s final album with Poco, which came out in 1973) and “Stand Your Guard” (from Furay’s second solo album “Dance a Little Light,” which came out in 1978). Not many people do that anymore, letting a song or an idea flow. Does Furay think this is a genre or a generational deal?
“I’m not sure. With ‘Stand Your Guard,’ I thought of it as we were recording it as an anthem of types and that’s basically what it came out as. Then there were just some very personal thoughts; I was upset when I wrote that song. There were some things going on in the music business, and I thought I was being dissed or ignored or whatever. It was an angry song. It was not personal; it was just in general. But, there’s a hope to it too — ‘hold on, hold on. It’s not all bad. It’s going to turn out to be OK.’
“‘Crazy Eyes’ … I had written a little ditty. Jack Richardson (NOTE: Richardson was an accomplished producer noted for working with artists as diverse as The Guess Who, Alice Cooper, and Bob Seger, in addition to Poco) was the producer on that album. We got Jack because we were looking for an AM record. He had done our previous album, ‘A Good Feelin’ to Know,’ which we all thought was the record that would launch Poco to another level.
“We recorded ‘Crazy Eyes,’ and Jack said, ‘Why don’t we send this up to my friend in Canada, Bob Ezrin (NOTE: Ezrin has gone to to a career as one of the most in-demand producers in rock, with albums by artists such as Pink Floyd, KISS, and Peter Gabriel to his credit), and let him listen to that and see what he’ll do with it?’ He (Ezrin) was the one who actually put the whole production together, taking pieces of the song and putting them together. The first time we heard that, we were like, ‘Oh my gosh, this is too cool!’ I give him credit for the orchestration on that. You can just imagine being in a studio with that thing blaring for the first time! It was just a little folk song that I had put together. A lot of people want me to identify it with Gram Parsons. Yeah, there are some references there that certainly speak of Gram.”
Parsons, the archetypal tortured genius, played a crucial role in the creation of country rock, both as a solo artist and during his brief tenure with the Byrds, during which they recorded their seminal “Sweetheart of the Rodeo” album. Parsons and Furay knew each other during their time in the New York City folk scene of the early 1960s, during which Furay met Stephen Stills. As the story goes, Parsons visited Furay after Furay had mostly let his music dreams expire and was working at a Pratt & Whitney plant in Connecticut. Parsons brought with him the debut album by the Byrds, which inspired Furay to reestablish contact with Stills and see about getting the music going again. Through a twisted path laid out in Furay’s 2006 biography “Pickin’ Up the Pieces,” Furay eventually reestablished contact with Stills, who by that time was in Los Angeles. Furay had also made an acquaintance with Neil Young, and after Furay moved out to L.A. to join a band with Stills, which Furay quickly discovered he was the only member besides Stills, after searching in vain for one another in those pre-Internet and cellphone days, the three literally almost ran into each other on the street, Stills and Furay recognizing Young as most likely being the driver of a hearse that passed by on the other side of the street. For what it’s worth, such is the story of how Buffalo Springfield was born. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
The first five Poco albums, all led by Furay, are consistently excellent, with songs that should have been hits but inexplicably failed to make the grade. The question arises: was Poco too good for its own good? There was such an incredibly high level of musicianship and songwriting in that band that one suspects sometimes it went over people’s heads. No disrespect to the Eagles, but their stuff, especially the pre-Hotel California work, was simple. With Poco, it is difficult to shake the feeling that it was too musical for people who like to listen to pop music as mere background sounds rather than something to focus on seriously.
Furay pauses before responding. “I don’t know. I agree with you about the musicianship. I’ve surrounded myself with great musicians my whole career; really talented, talented people. As far as too much, I don’t know. I think that sometimes, simplicity is what people want.”
He adds, “We didn’t go into anything thinking it was complicated. We were just writing songs. I don’t know what else to say. Thinking about simplicity, look at what (the late) Rusty (Young) wrote with ‘Crazy Love.’ Very simple. Very simple.”
Was the intent of Buffalo Springfield and later Poco to try and create something new, or was the music an organic reflection of who Furay and company were without trying to go, “I’ve got this idea — let’s combine this and this?” “Buffalo Springfield was definitely organic. Who we are, just put it together, and nobody try to contrive anything. This is the kind of song I write, this is the kind of song Neil writes, and this is the kind of song Stephen writes.
“I said I’d be in Buffalo Springfield as long as Stephen was there. We had that connection. When Stephen decided he was done, we knew Buffalo Springfield was done. Jimmy (Messina) (NOTE: Messina, who joined Buffalo Springfield near the end of its existence, and Furay did most of the work assembling Buffalo Springfield’s third and final album, 1968’s ‘Last Time Around’) and I put our heads together and said, ‘Let’s do this crossover country.’
“In Nashville, there weren’t open arms at that time. I mean, talk to The Byrds and Roger McGuinn!” Furay is referring to the band’s 1968 album “Sweetheart of the Rodeo,” an aggressively country-flavored album that Nashville greeted with sufficient iciness to freeze a thermonuclear blast. “But, if you listen to the ‘Pickin’ Up the Pieces’ album, ‘Pickin’ Up the Pieces,’ ‘Just In Case it Happens, Yes Indeed,’ ‘Consequently, So Long’ — those songs were more of a Bakersfield genre. Jimmy and I definitely wanted to do the crossover country. That was one of the reasons Rusty Young made Poco different than every other three-guitar band in Los Angeles at the time. He played that steel guitar, and he was an innovator on it; very creative. So, there was a plan going on then. But with Buffalo Springfield, it was more organically who you are. With Poco, it was a whole different ballgame.”
A final thought regarding the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame band. Furay has commented that Buffalo Springfield was never as good as it was at the very beginning, when it was gigging at the Whisky a Go Go. To the best of his knowledge, are there any recordings of those shows around? “If there are, Neil has them. They may not ever hit the streets.” (Mr. Young, if you are reading this, you know what to do.)
Furay finishes the thought by noting, “We were a tight band. I don’t want to disrespect Jimmy in any way, because he’s a great musician and a great friend. But, to me, the Buffalo Springfield was Stephen, Neil, myself, (the late) Bruce (Palmer; bass), and (the late) Dewey (Martin; drummer). That was Buffalo Springfield.”
TOMORROW: The breaking helping the broken.
Support independent, conservative journalism devoted to bringing you the facts about politics and culture without fear. Your VIP subscription will keep RedState rolling in its efforts to supply truth with which to confront the mainstream media’s bias and falsehoods. Not only will you be helping us, but you will also gain access to in-depth reporting and knowledgeable commentary you will not find elsewhere. Click on this link to join today!
Join the conversation as a VIP Member