Show + Tell: David Crosby: Remember My Name
It surprises me every year, and once again, suddenly I find myself facing a post-Labor Day world. No matter the actual date, it always seems to sneak up on me. One day the world is alive with possibilities from the garden to the beach to the mountains, and the next day it’s the start of battening down the hatches and getting the heating system prepped for winter.
Or at least, that’s what it feels like.
But it’s always movie season at The Music Hall, and we have a nice selection to choose from in September, including the 9-course banquet of Telluride by the Sea!
Our first discussion this month is the biopic David Crosby: Remember My Name, which might have been called Remember My Name, But Forget All that Crap I Did.
Crosby was a major force in the folk rock music of the ’60s (The Byrds, Crosby, Still and Nash), writing, performing and producing some fabulous stuff. He’s been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (twice) and has recorded five solo albums. But he was also, by all reports, a monster pain in the ass, a charge that he doesn’t deny.
I don’t have anything like a set of rules about which TMH movies I do discussions for. I figure that if I’m interested in a movie, other people might also be, and if I’m not interested, I probably wouldn’t be a good discussion leader. If you have any ’60s blood still running wild in your veins, or if you’d like to know more about a genuine ’60s superstar survivor, I hope you’ll join me in the Big Room (The Historic Theater) for a critically praised documentary about a very talented guy (who’s also on my personal list of musical demigods).
See you there, man.
And for those of you who put things on calendars, don’t forget the discussions of Booksmart on Tuesday, September 10 in The Loft and (drum roll and cymbal crash) Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins on Wednesday, September 18, also in The Loft. If you’re not familiar with Molly Ivins, you really should get to know one of the cleverest and hardest-hitting political reporters and columnists ever to come out of Texas. Molly was all that and a bag of chips, and this documentary should be a riot!