Since the subject was Crosby, Stills and Nash, it’s probably time to turn to one of their seventies Cali-pop offspring; America.
The band – three American air force brats who met in England during the mid-sixties – generally wrapped up all that was the worst about the entire California pop scene that Crosby, Stills and Nash helped spawn; oblique, tired-sounding minor-key noodling wrapped in ornate three-part harmony that never made me want to dance, sing, fight, cuddle or do much of anything but change the station.
Ventura Highway? Horse With No Name? Muskrat Freaking Love? Whatever else they did? Never could stand it. Bores me stiff. Move along.
Except for Sister Golden Hair:
Why, of all of America’s somnolent oeuvre, do I like “Sister?”
I dunno. Because it has a beat? A slide guitar?
Maybe because the vocal harmony harkens back to doo-wop more than Haight-Ashbury?
Dunno. But in a band whose entire catalog works on me faster than an Ambien/NyQuil speedball, “Sister Golden Hair” makes me smile.
Why ask why?