Crosby, Stills & Nash (1969).

This album is a rejection of the 1960s concept of “the band.” These three were refugees from bands, and had decided that sitting on a front porch, singing and playing, was somehow better than “performing” with The Byrds (Crosby), Buffalo Springfield (Stills), or The Hollies (Nash). They were probably right, but after realizing how amazing they sounded they signed a record deal and released this record.

But CSN never really became a band. This record was a huge hit and they did their best in the early 1970s to carry on, including the brave addition of Neil Young for a time. But even adding Young to the lineup was a clue to people who loved this music that the members weren’t going to cohere and become Byrds or Hollies. I hope that in some way they knew that themselves, because the music they made without that pressure is amazing.

This recording begins with “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” a long song. The first record I owned that included this lovely song was a greatest hits record (So Far), which put this song last on side two. For the CD generation, it’s instructive to realize what a risk it was for Crosby, Stills and Nash to open their debut album with a seven-minute song. If you were an ordinary pop music fan plopping the needle down on the new record from what was billed as a super group, a seven-minute song was not what you were expecting. Even The Beatles had saved those long, experimental tracks for the end of their records. Could Crosby, Stills and Nash be more adventurous than The Beatles? (Well, yes, perhaps because The Beatles opened some doors.)

Another remarkable thing about this album is how consistent the sonic feel of it is despite the three artists’ contributions. “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” is a Stills song, followed by Nash’s “Marrakesh Express,” then Crosby’s “Guinnevere.” These are three very different songs, but the artists produce them in a way that makes them seamless, in part by highlighting the vocals and in part by blending the instrumentation in a way that tends to highlight the guitars (which allows Stills to have a signature on most songs).

But of course it’s the vocals that make this recording so special. The consistency I mentioned is most apparent in the vocals. If you want to learn to sing harmony, start here. (The best harmony singer I ever played with, Mike Fabale, was a huge fan of this album.) The vocals are produced with precision and care. The result is a sort of illusion. You can listen to this album without interruption thinking that is was one continuous message, but the album repays closer listening with (what are now) history lessons in “Wooden Ships” and “Long Time Gone,” timeless romances in “Helplessly Hoping” and “Lady of the Island,” and drug references that may or may not be timeless, depending on when the needle drops, in “Marrakesh Express” and “Pre-Road Downs.”

None of these artists were ever able to really join a band after this recording. They toyed with the idea, but if you’re toying with an idea you probably don’t really love it. (Still, it’s nice to toy with things you don’t love, such as some food.)

This is a great recording.