Fact #88804
When:
Short story:
Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell are in the audience when Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young begin six nights at The Fillmore East, New York City, USA.
Full article:
CSN&Y
Fillmore East
June 2 to 7, 1970
Seen from the auditorium, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s week long stint at The Fillmore East in New York looked and sounded like the greatest live gigs ever played by that superstar aggregation.
The band’s onstage vibes of peace, love and brotherhood were, however, diametrically opposed to the seething maelstrom of coke-fuelled egomania, ludicrous business practices and broken love affairs that was turning their personal lives into a cruel parody of everything they seemed to stand for.
“We broke up in Chicago,” Graham Nash has said, referring to a gig they’d pulled out of just two weeks earlier. “We couldn’t relate to each other on a rational level. When we can’t do that, we can’t play. So we all flew home.”
One of the many major problems leading to their Chicago bust-up had been Neil Young’s intense dislike of Dallas Taylor’s drumming, which culminated in an ultimatum that he couldn’t remain in CSN&Y unless Taylor was fired.
So, by the time they re-convened at the Fillmore, they were breaking in a new drummer, Johnny Barbata, and also a new bassist, Calvin ‘Fuzzy’ Samuels. Photographer Joel Bernstein recalls how, on the afternoon of the first show, he encountered Graham Nash, “who had just split up with Joni (Mitchell) a few minutes before, and he was completely devastated.”
Added to Nash’s broken heart was the fact that he and Crosby were engaged in an ongoing power struggle with Stephen Stills who, aside from constant attempts to dominate the group, had annoyed them both by describing them as “My backing singers” in a recent interview.
“They’d played at the Fillmore in September of 1969,” says Amalie R. Rothschild who, as a Fillmore staffer, attended every gig and enjoyed unlimited backstage access. “But by the time of these1970 shows, they were a much bigger deal. The first inkling I got of just how big a deal they’d become was the day the tickets went on sale, and this gigantic crowd of people turned up, stretching right down the block. There were so many that I went out on the roof of the building across the street and took photographs of them. Then, when the day of the first show arrived, the band were behaving like really obnoxious prima donnas.”
Rothschild points out that the Fillmore East was famed for having the best live sound system in America at the time, but it wasn’t good enough for CSN&Y. “They insisted on installing their own system which they’d had built in Marin County, and it caused all kinds of problems.” As well as demanding their own sound, they refused to allow the Fillmore’s legendary Joshua Light Show to be used while they were onstage. “They didn’t want any attention to be taken away from them by the lights.”
The querulous quartet also each demanded a different kind of backstage catering. “Stephen had Jewish and Graham had Italian,” remembers movie director Jonathan Kaplan who was then working at the Fillmore. “David had Chinese and Neil had Japanese.”
Best of all though, was the carpet. Alan Arkush, another future director serving time at the Fillmore, has explained how, “We repainted the whole stage. We did everything for them. We had their equipment set up and we were waiting for them to come do the soundcheck, and their road manager said, ‘Where’s the Persian carpet?’”
It transpired that the band would not appear unless they were provided with a Persian carpet to stand on. When the Fillmore staff complied by digging out a rug that had been used as stage dressing for Indian sitar master Ravi Shankar, the road manager complained that it was dirty.
Somehow the first gig got underway without anyone being maimed and, once onstage, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young turned on the magic. “This was shortly after the Kent State Massacre,” notes Rothschild, “and one of the stand-out songs in the set was Ohio, which Neil Young had written in response to the deaths of four students in the Massacre.”
Stills, however, aware that Bob Dylan was in the audience, couldn’t resist another attempt at upstaging his colleagues. “Steve was drinking a bit,” says Nash, “and instead of doing his solo number or saying he felt like doing a second one, he did four.”
The Fillmore shows, well represented on the double album Four Way Street, conformed to what had become CSN&Y’s standard operating procedure, an intimate acoustic set to open, an intermission, and an electric set to bring the night to a rousing conclusion, after which they would torment Fillmore owner Bill Graham by refusing to come out for an encore until he was turning purple with rage.
“Neil Young was only one who didn’t act up for the audience,” remembers Rothschild. “With the others, there was a lot of stagecraft going on, but he didn’t put out for the audience at all. He just sat there and played, but his voice definitely added a lot to their sound because it was so expressive. They were absolutely at the top of their game as political activist musicians, and the mixture of harmonies between their voices and their instruments was supremely musical.”
(This feature by Johnny Black was first published in Mojo magazine.)
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Fillmore East
June 2 to 7, 1970
Seen from the auditorium, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s week long stint at The Fillmore East in New York looked and sounded like the greatest live gigs ever played by that superstar aggregation.
The band’s onstage vibes of peace, love and brotherhood were, however, diametrically opposed to the seething maelstrom of coke-fuelled egomania, ludicrous business practices and broken love affairs that was turning their personal lives into a cruel parody of everything they seemed to stand for.
“We broke up in Chicago,” Graham Nash has said, referring to a gig they’d pulled out of just two weeks earlier. “We couldn’t relate to each other on a rational level. When we can’t do that, we can’t play. So we all flew home.”
One of the many major problems leading to their Chicago bust-up had been Neil Young’s intense dislike of Dallas Taylor’s drumming, which culminated in an ultimatum that he couldn’t remain in CSN&Y unless Taylor was fired.
So, by the time they re-convened at the Fillmore, they were breaking in a new drummer, Johnny Barbata, and also a new bassist, Calvin ‘Fuzzy’ Samuels. Photographer Joel Bernstein recalls how, on the afternoon of the first show, he encountered Graham Nash, “who had just split up with Joni (Mitchell) a few minutes before, and he was completely devastated.”
Added to Nash’s broken heart was the fact that he and Crosby were engaged in an ongoing power struggle with Stephen Stills who, aside from constant attempts to dominate the group, had annoyed them both by describing them as “My backing singers” in a recent interview.
“They’d played at the Fillmore in September of 1969,” says Amalie R. Rothschild who, as a Fillmore staffer, attended every gig and enjoyed unlimited backstage access. “But by the time of these1970 shows, they were a much bigger deal. The first inkling I got of just how big a deal they’d become was the day the tickets went on sale, and this gigantic crowd of people turned up, stretching right down the block. There were so many that I went out on the roof of the building across the street and took photographs of them. Then, when the day of the first show arrived, the band were behaving like really obnoxious prima donnas.”
Rothschild points out that the Fillmore East was famed for having the best live sound system in America at the time, but it wasn’t good enough for CSN&Y. “They insisted on installing their own system which they’d had built in Marin County, and it caused all kinds of problems.” As well as demanding their own sound, they refused to allow the Fillmore’s legendary Joshua Light Show to be used while they were onstage. “They didn’t want any attention to be taken away from them by the lights.”
The querulous quartet also each demanded a different kind of backstage catering. “Stephen had Jewish and Graham had Italian,” remembers movie director Jonathan Kaplan who was then working at the Fillmore. “David had Chinese and Neil had Japanese.”
Best of all though, was the carpet. Alan Arkush, another future director serving time at the Fillmore, has explained how, “We repainted the whole stage. We did everything for them. We had their equipment set up and we were waiting for them to come do the soundcheck, and their road manager said, ‘Where’s the Persian carpet?’”
It transpired that the band would not appear unless they were provided with a Persian carpet to stand on. When the Fillmore staff complied by digging out a rug that had been used as stage dressing for Indian sitar master Ravi Shankar, the road manager complained that it was dirty.
Somehow the first gig got underway without anyone being maimed and, once onstage, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young turned on the magic. “This was shortly after the Kent State Massacre,” notes Rothschild, “and one of the stand-out songs in the set was Ohio, which Neil Young had written in response to the deaths of four students in the Massacre.”
Stills, however, aware that Bob Dylan was in the audience, couldn’t resist another attempt at upstaging his colleagues. “Steve was drinking a bit,” says Nash, “and instead of doing his solo number or saying he felt like doing a second one, he did four.”
The Fillmore shows, well represented on the double album Four Way Street, conformed to what had become CSN&Y’s standard operating procedure, an intimate acoustic set to open, an intermission, and an electric set to bring the night to a rousing conclusion, after which they would torment Fillmore owner Bill Graham by refusing to come out for an encore until he was turning purple with rage.
“Neil Young was only one who didn’t act up for the audience,” remembers Rothschild. “With the others, there was a lot of stagecraft going on, but he didn’t put out for the audience at all. He just sat there and played, but his voice definitely added a lot to their sound because it was so expressive. They were absolutely at the top of their game as political activist musicians, and the mixture of harmonies between their voices and their instruments was supremely musical.”
(This feature by Johnny Black was first published in Mojo magazine.)