CARRYING ON: STILLS AND NASH TALK FIREAID

When Graham Nash strode out onto the Forum stage for the 1/30 FireAid concert, he walked directly over to the man who, along with David Crosby, had been his musical partner since 1968. Nash put his hands on Stephen Stills’ shoulders, and the two smiled at each other in mutual understanding.

It was the first time they’d shared a public stage since the tumultuous ending of the final Crosby, Stills & Nash tour in 2015. The emotional significance of the moment was also not lost on the sold-out crowd, which roared its full-throated approval of these two old friends appearing onstage together one more time. (Crosby died on January 18, 2023, at age 81.)

Nash’s entrance immediately followed Stills’ rollicking rendition (along with Dawes and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers guitarist Mike Campbell) of his classic Buffalo Springfield protest anthem, “For What It’s Worth.”

For those too young to remember the '60s (or, as Croz, twinkle in his eyes, loved to say whenever he was asked about the group’s second live performance, in 1969 at Woodstock, “If you can remember the ‘60s, you weren’t there”), it’s noteworthy that the song they chose to play at FireAid served as multigenerational connective tissue for an audience that ranged from eight to 80: Nash’s iconic “Teach Your Children.”

When Nash held out his microphone to the crowd, the cameras caught both millennials and Gen Z-ers singing along to every word. It quickly became clear that over the past 50 years, a lot of cradles were rocked to that gentle song’s final verse, “And know they love you.”

Commercially successful as solo artists and in myriad musical combinations, including Stills with Buffalo Springfield and Nash with The Hollies, Stills and Nash are both two-time inductees into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

We caught up separately with Stills and Nash the day after FireAid. Stills, 80, was back at his home in the Hollywood Hills. Nash, who turned 83 on Sunday (2/2), had just landed at JFK en route to his home in Manhattan’s East Village. He’d spent decades in Los Angeles, most famously in Laurel Canyon, where he and Joni Mitchell shared “Our House.”

STEPHEN STILLS

You live in Los Angeles now, but it hasn’t always been your home. [Stills was born in Texas and raised in Florida.] Tell me about the first time you saw L.A. What was your initial impression?

I came out from New York and slept on [manager] Herbie Cohen’s couch, until his wife taught me the houseguest rule: “Never more than 10 days. And at least you pick up!” It reminded me of a mid-sized Florida town except for the gift of a cool, dry climate. Air conditioning outside. Had no car, so I walked—a lot! That hill up to Sunset got my legs in good shape. The music scene had lots of promise—guys who could really play. Gorgeous ocean, but to a Florida boy, stunningly cold. I was a complete washout at surfing, but I made some lifelong friends.

Most people don’t know that the song you chose to play at FireAid, “For What It’s Worth,” was written about events that happened in Los Angeles and the need to stand up to authority. You were 21. Have you been surprised by the impact it still has today?

It was about threat. Domestic authority. Going on patrol in Vietnam. Fear, both real and imagined. It was inspired by Sunset Boulevard [and the police closure of some music bars]. Bar funeral protest turned street blockage and police overreaction to the kids. But also by encounters I had with the Alabama Highway Patrol or on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras.

Are you surprised by how universal that song has become and its staying power? The kids at FireAid knew the words...

I have come to realize that songs are born of the ether of memories, both immediate and distant, and the feelings elicited by the sum of them. And also the stories heard from others.

When you finished “For What It’s Worth,” Graham came out and you did “Teach Your Children” together, a song that ended the majority of CSN shows for decades. This was the first time you’ve shared a stage since we lost Croz, almost exactly two years ago.

Graham texted me. I was already invited and had accepted immediately. I replied to Graham right away. Then, two hours later, Frank [Gironda], my manager, tells me it’s going to be streamed live nationwide and globally. Those boys, Dawes, are just the nicest, and complete pros. And this much tragedy deserves the effort to get this thing done.

You’ve always put your music into the world for causes. Did FireAid feel like an affirmation of that ethic, which has always been so important to you?

Of course. Por supuestro. A little higher purpose adds life to the entire vocation of creating songs and playing music. Môn raison d’être.

You mentioned the lifelong friends you’ve made in L.A. Do you have people close to you who lost their homes? I know Dawes, the band who played with you, lost a lot.

Yes, I do. Not many, but some. My heart goes out to them. And to the boys from Dawes, just breaking after nine albums, a new baby for one—tragic. They’re still so young—at least to me!

GRAHAM NASH

When did you first come to L.A. and what about it made it so special to you? [Nash was born in Blackpool, Lancashire, England, and raised in Salford, in Greater Manchester.]

I first visited L.A. in 1967. Cass Elliot brought the Hollies to the City of Angels because she wanted Lou Adler to produce us. When we finally got to LAX, I climbed up a small palm tree and never wanted to go back to England. Later, of course, I lived there for many years.

You came out onto the FireAid stage to join Stephen after he finished “For What It’s Worth,” and the emotion in the house was palpable. Was it a bittersweet moment for you without David there?

I was thinking about David a great deal during the show. I believe that he would have loved the event and would have been horrified about the tragedy of the fires. He would have given his all to the concert. For Irving Azoff and Joel Gallen and everyone to put those two concerts together in 12 days was amazing.

How good did it feel to have the audience, which included a lot of very young people, sing along to “Teach Your Children” when you held out the microphone to the crowd?

I’ve always enjoyed it when the audience sing my songs. To me it means they are invested in the music. It must mean a great deal to them to learn the words and want to take part.

Did you see Joni play “Both Sides Now?" She was a metaphor for the message of the concert: resilience and recovery.

I saw Joan’s performance from the side of the stage, and I was really astonished at her timing. Yes, her vocal range has diminished somewhat, but her timing is something we spoke about after our performance. It is so good to talk to her and that she’s still with us and still rocking.

Finally, tell me about another benefit concert you literally first saw in a dream that later became a reality: Peace Sunday in 1982. You put it together to promote nuclear disarmament and filled the Rose Bowl. Did FireAid give you a sense of déjà vu?

I was also thinking about Peace Sunday and how nervous I was hoping ticket sales were going to be okay. When I was driving towards the Rose Bowl and saw that we had filled the place, I had the biggest smile on my face. It was a great concert and a great way of providing money to the local religious entities working for peace.

Photo: Timothy Norris/Kia Forum Photos