Buffalo Springfield - The West Coast Pioneers

In 1966, rock had not yet fully established itself. After the rock'n'roll revolution, America had still not broken free from the acoustic-folk undertow of New York's Greenwich Village scene, led by Bob Dylan. In England, meanwhile, rhythm and blues was the order of the day (Rolling Stones), passed off as something new.

The '65 British Invasion consisted of a flood of English bands into America essentially reworking the melodies of 1940s and 50s vocal groups, giving rise to a kind of "soft rock n'roll" that had actually already been made operational in America several years earlier: its author had in fact been Buddy Holly, from whom it passed down to the Beach Boys, who derived their surf music from it. From here to the Byrds is a short step, if you add the traditionally American country component. The Byrds took the Beach Boys' soft, choral rock n'roll and applied it to the existential themes and moves of American country-blues: in other words, they put an electric guitar in Dylan's hands (precisely at the Newport Festival, on 26 July 1965).

Then came 1966. Someone had to exploit this electric guitar's capacity to act as a mouthpiece for the problems of life and existence. And in 1966 the psychedelic movement put forward existential themes; it's no coincidence that it had been using (as far back as the Charlatans, in '65) an electric guitar to express them. We're one step away from the rock of 1967 — which would however largely break free from the world of the hippies.

In 1966, one step from rock, in the full psychedelic era (this was the year of the "Summer of Love"), yet firmly rooted in the most reactionary tradition, we find the phenomenon of Buffalo Springfield (Los Angeles, 1966-1968). In 1966 the Byrds were on their third album; the 13th Floor Elevators represented the most alternative fringe (not only geographically: they were Texan) of the San Francisco psychedelic movement, which had ended up involving the Byrds themselves and which would soon see the rise of the stars of Jefferson Airplane first and Grateful Dead later. But 1966 was also the year of the Beach Boys ("Pet Sounds") as well as of Frank Zappa ("Freak Out").

While, with psychedelia, acid-rock was born (from the idea of creating music as a backdrop for LSD parties) and the era of jam sessions began, another substantial strand of American popular music remained tied to tradition, even as it drew close to psychedelia through its use of the electric guitar.

For now, in dealing with Buffalo Springfield, we'll be looking at that substantial traditional strand that is an essential premise of rock.

Buffalo Springfield were a country-folk group who played with instruments that would later become standard rock gear (electric guitar and bass, drums), with vocal-group harmonies (sung in unison, or in multiple parts). The Byrds' old wine in new bottles. Above all: Nashville transplanted to Los Angeles, as the revival or "old-time music" of the era demanded (Grateful Dead, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Flying Burrito Brothers). Californian country-rock would become commercial between the late 60s and early 70s; with Buffalo Springfield, instead, we're at its origin.

Buffalo Springfield were not strictly a group, but — as with, and perhaps even more so than, the Byrds — a coterie of singer-songwriters who published their songs under that name.

Stephen Stills (Texas, 1945), a professional musician from the age of fifteen, is a singer, songwriter, guitarist and bassist. After New York (where in Greenwich Village in 1964-65 he formed the Au Go Go Singers with Richie Furay) and Canada (where he met Young), at twenty he formed Buffalo Springfield in Los Angeles — where the folk-rock community was decisively taking shape — and became its leader. Since 1968 he has been active in Crosby, Stills & Nash (and Young) — an ex-Byrd, an ex-Buffalo Springfield member, an ex-Hollie. Between 1970 and 1972, his folk/soft-rock projects (one of them under the name Manassas: a supergroup with ex-Byrds and Flying Burrito Brothers member Chris Hillman and great session men like Paul Harris; the other two albums are packed with celebrated guests: Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, plus the usual entourage of folk singers).

Neil Young (Canada, 1945) had been playing, like so many of his generation, in college coffeehouses (where he met the young Joni Mitchell and Stephen Stills). His first group were the Squires (1962-1965), straddling folk and surf music (the 1963 single "Aurora/The Sultan" was Young's first recorded track). Then (1966), still in Canada, came the Mynah Birds (with Bruce Palmer). After the singles flopped, Young and Palmer — like so many others of their generation, perhaps all of them — headed for Los Angeles. After Buffalo Springfield broke up, Young, from 1969 to today, has released 32 solo albums that have made him on one hand one of the greatest folk singers and songwriters of all time, and on the other one of the most influential and sensitive rock singers and guitarists (his distorted guitar, alongside Reed's, laid the groundwork for the later "noise" aesthetic: the most fashionable device in rock music from the 80s to today), a genre of which he is among the foremost champions and interpreters. His collaborations are countless — those with Crosby, Stills & Nash ('70, '71, '74, '88, '98, '99) and with Pearl Jam ('95) are the most publicized. But every Young album is a collaboration, and not so much because of the guests who always appear on them, but because of the fact that these determine one of Young's two fundamental tones (country/folk and rock). Crazy Horse, for instance, were not simply Young's backing band, but the means (at times the cause) through which Young forged and defined his great hard rock.

Dewey Martin (Canada, 1942), a drummer since the age of 13, cut his teeth with Roy Orbison and the Everly Brothers in the traditional capital of country music (made so by names like Hank Williams and Johnny Cash), Nashville, and was in Seattle in 1964 with Sir Raleigh and the Coupons — a group that covered songs in British Invasion style. Then came stints with the Sons of Adam, the Modern Folk Quartet, and the Dillards (an important bluegrass group). After Buffalo Springfield broke up, Martin tried several times and in various capacities to revive their legacy — suffice it to say that by the mid-70s he had been reduced to working as a car mechanic.

Martin's move from Nashville to Los Angeles is emblematic. In the mid-60s, in fact, there was a folk revival that saw the new generations (the electric guitars of Los Angeles — a city that, from the Byrds to the Grateful Dead, became the school of the revival) reclaim their own ancestral music (represented precisely by Nashville). As you can see, none of this can really be called rock.

Bruce Palmer (Canada, 1946), like his bandmate Young, was a full member of Buffalo Springfield only for the first album, having by the time of the second already fallen out with the group — and been caught up in various drug problems. Unlike Young, Palmer did not contribute songs to Buffalo Springfield, although his basslines encouraged the more rock-oriented side of a group almost entirely focused — by Stills' design — on country-folk. Jim Messina — an outside member and the group's factotum — would stand in for Palmer when needed. In 1971, with "The Cycle Is Complete", he left behind his other and almost sole musical testament: a work of a few very long tracks (anything but rock) dedicated to LSD trips.

Richie Furay (Ohio, 1944) is the third songwriter and core member — as well as guitarist and singer — of Buffalo Springfield, whom he joined after having played in New York with Stills in the Au Go Go Singers. Also in Los Angeles, he formed Poco, a soft-rock group active from 1968 to 1984, together with Jim Messina.

Jim Messina (Texas, 1947) is a singer, songwriter, guitarist (since the age of 5), bassist and producer. He appears as bassist for Buffalo Springfield on the first and third albums; of the latter he was the main architect, in the sense that he produced it and partly assembled it after the group had already split up. He then joined Poco with Richie Furay, staying for the first three albums (1969-1971). He then teamed up with Kenny Loggins (7 albums from 1970 to 1976).

Buffalo Springfield (1966), 12 tracks, 33 minutes. No. 80 Pop Albums.

Stephen Stills: Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals

Neil Young: Guitar, Harmonica, Piano, Vocals

Richie Furay: Guitar, Guitar (Rhythm), Vocals

Douglas Hastings: Guitar, Vocals

Jim Messina: Bass, Vocals

Dewey Martin: Drums

Bruce Palmer: Bass

Charles Greene: Producer

Brian Stone: Producer

Buffalo Springfield's debut album is so far removed from today's aesthetic that it can come across as downright embarrassing or ridiculous to listen to – mostly because of vocals that sit somewhere between vocal-group harmony and soul. The mood can be described as an electric/acoustic country-pop steeped in fatalism, epic sweep, grandiloquence and pessimism. Think of the Byrds minus their experimentalism, but with a noticeably darker tone. The record consists of 7 Stills compositions (nearly all mediocre, though none unlistenable or entirely lacking in influential ideas) and 5 by Young (at least 2 of which justify and give meaning to what would otherwise be a hard-to-defend record).

“For What It’s Worth” (Stills) [- 2:37] (No. 7 Pop Singles) is an excellent, understated and refined sonic canvas, unfortunately marred by naive Merseybeat gargling.

“Go and Say Goodbye” (Stills) [- 2:23] could pass for the Byrds: it sounds like a stately country tune played by the Beatles. The music itself can be interesting (a country sound that's still somehow futuristic) and the playing excellent, but as usual it's the smug, reverb-drenched vocal – deliberately so – that spoils everything (or elevates it to kitsch).

“Sit Down, I Think I Love You” (Stills) [- 2:34] says it all in the title, “Hot Dusty Roads” (Stills) [- 2:51] tries its hand at blues, “Everybody’s Wrong” (Stills) [- 2:29] is the epic of electric folk, “Leave” (Stills) [- 2:45] is a taut rhythm and blues number and proto hard rock (it would notably influence Jefferson Airplane), while “Pay the Price” (Stills) [- 2:36] is, alongside the previous track and in a more middling register, Stills's most significant contribution (the kind of thing that would inspire Cat Stevens as much as Lou Reed and – in the chorus – even a touch of metal).

“Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing” (Young) [- 3:28] is Young's first masterpiece: an existentialism powerful enough to carry and justify the country-pop devices which – however admirable – remain confined to pure expressive means. “Flying on the Ground Is Wrong” (Young) [- 2:43] doesn't even attempt to match it, instead returning – flawlessly – to pop music from at least twenty years earlier (think Bing Crosby). “Do I Have to Come Right Out and Say It” (Young) [- 3:06], halfway between the two previous tracks, doesn't really have a reason to exist. “Burned” (Young) [- 2:18] is among the – relatively – harder tracks on the album: somewhere between country and the Kinks, far removed from what Young would later achieve, even as it hints at that horizon. “Out Of My Mind” (Young) [- 3:09] is the other masterwork: the liquid guitar that opens and closes the song is enough to send shivers down your spine; not even the tear-jerking, multi-voiced chorus rhetoric – the quintessence of the era's aesthetic – undermines its effect.

Although almost entirely lacking in memorable songs, this album retains all of its historical importance for individual aspects, especially of a technical nature. And while the Byrds – and others – had already arrived at the fusion of country/folk with electric guitar on one hand (country-rock) and vocal-group or pop with electric guitar (or rock instrumentation) on the other, we were still at the very beginning. Even though everything changes within a single year; even though Buffalo Springfield's debut falls short of the most important works of '66 – just consider the 13th Floor Elevators.

In 1973 – amid a thoroughly saturated country-rock landscape – the album would return to the charts (No. 10): listeners were searching for the forerunners of the likes of Eric Andersen, Carole King, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell.

Buffalo Springfield Again (1967) 10 tracks, No. 44 Pop Albums.

Stephen Stills: Organ, Guitar, Piano, Guitar (Rhythm), Keyboards, Vocals, Producer

Neil Young: Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals, Producer

Richie Furay: Guitar, Guitar (Rhythm), Vocals, Producer

Bruce Palmer: Bass

Dewey Martin: Drums

Jack Nitzsche: Keyboards, Piano (Electric), Producer

Don Randi: Piano

James Burton: Dobro, Guitar

Charlie Chin: Banjo

Jim Fielder: Bass

Bob West: Bass

Buffalo Springfield's average age is 22 when they deliver what critics have unanimously considered, and can only be considered, their masterpiece. During the recording of the album – which ends up feeling more like a compilation than a cohesive LP – Young and Palmer, also bound together by drug troubles, leave the band for the first time.

"Mr. Soul" (Young) [- 2:35] is a western-flavored take on Satisfaction – just listen to that guitar riff; "A Child's Claim to Fame" (Furay) [- 2:09], with James Burton's dobro hooks, is content, if nothing else, with its reflective Byrds-like dreaminess; "Everydays" (Stills) [- 2:38] veers into jazz atmospheres (slashed by a distorted guitar) and stands as an early masterpiece; "Expecting To Fly" (Young) [- 3:39] (No. 98 Pop Singles), a baroque piece of psychedelia and surrealism, doesn't fully convince; "Bluebird" (Stills) [- 4:28] (No. 58 Pop Singles) enlivens the album's economy with a hard-folk edge and, through sheer force of invention (the voice now soul, now dream-pop, the guitar pyrotechnics on every front, the jazz rhythm section), seems to enrich it too: ultimately it deserves to be called a masterpiece for its avant-garde stature (note the tempo changes). "Hung Upside Down" (Stills) [- 3:24], with its powerful weave, proves that the album belongs to Stills and Furay (indeed, it represents their finest achievements) rather than to Young: here Stills even channels Tim Buckley (a shame only for the venial backing vocals: then again, it takes a Buckley not to need them) and goes wild (a one-off for him) in the screamed finale.

"Sad Memory" (Furay) [- 3:00] could have been written for Frank Sinatra and outlines the coordinates of the album's overall design: to Stills go the avant-garde and the harder sounds, to Young the grandiloquent epics, to Furay the intimate little songs. "Good Time Boy" (Furay) [- 2:11] anticipates Poco's country-rock with horns, blues trailings and Joe Cocker-style soul: here it all comes together, in a thoroughly frenzied way (complete with screams and a galloping rhythm). "Rock & Roll Woman" (Stills) [- 2:44] (No. 44 Pop Singles) is anything but rock: it sounds like the Beatles whistling Morricone in a Leone film; there follows a whole string of daring experiments showing that, if the avant-garde of the first album lay in the fusion of country and rock, here it is – almost without rock at all – pure and self-standing. Because it's never said, but Buffalo Springfield Again is an avant-garde album, not a rock one. It takes "Broken Arrow" (Young) [- 6:13] to bring us back into the rock circus. But only for a moment: from its hard, live opening it shifts into a surrealist collage (structurally somewhere between Zappa and Cooper, in fact influenced by the Byrds' experiments), with drums, strings, keyboards, silences and words tossed to the wind. This is Young's least rock, least folk and least country track.

Buffalo Springfield Again should have (and still should) shocked and unsettled in ways it perhaps never did. Forget folk, country or rock! This is avant-garde, and the various styles are merely its means! Buffalo Springfield Again sounds as though it had been written by a band of mad Martians, the way Buffalo Springfield sounds like it was written by a circle of grandfathers.

In ’67, the year rock exploded (Velvet Underground, Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, Pink Floyd), Buffalo Springfield (who had helped bring rock about in the first place) were already positioning themselves on the opposite side, that of the avant-garde (Red Crayola, Captain Beefheart, Frank Zappa, Tim Buckley).

Last Time Around (1968) 12 tracks, No. 42 Pop Albums

Stephen Stills: Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals

Neil Young: Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals

Richie Furay: Guitar, Vocals

Dewey Martin: Drums

Jim Messina: Bass, Vocals, Producer, Engineer

This is Buffalo Springfield's most significant album in the sense that it defines how the band operated — with the relative exception of the first album — as individuals releasing songs under the banner of a group. In '68, Jim Messina and Richie Furay found themselves with 3 songs by Young and 5 by Stills — both already out of the band by then, while Palmer never returned either. Messina added one composition, Furay three, and the whole thing was released as it stood.

Last Time Around ultimately marks a step backward — from the avant-garde to reactionary territory. That's borne out by "On The Way Home" (Young) [- 2:25] (No. 82 Pop Singles), a bloated and pointless multi-voiced power-country number. "It's So Hard To Wait" (Furay/Young) [- 2:03] instead sets off again from the Jefferson Airplane of Slick crossed with (a more subdued) Nico, and manages, through its whispered minimalism, to win you over. "Pretty Girl Why" (Stills) [- 2:24] continues fittingly and productively along the line of the experiments (now with a Latin tinge, in the vein of Tim Buckley). "Four Days Gone" (Stills) [- 2:53] confirms the solidity of Stills' craftsmanship (note the impeccable, unobtrusive arrangements), but starts to raise doubts as to whether it really is craftsmanship rather than art: this is meant to be a confession (in the Traffic mold), yet it's not entirely clear what it's confessing. "Carefree Country Day" (Messina) [- 2:35] is an unexpectedly slight little bijou, one that the more playful Lou Reed (the one doing his music-hall routine) would later draw on extensively. "Special Care" (Stills) [- 3:30] is yet another goldmine for future generations to tap — a linear, powerful track, sung and paced like a raw slice of country (Traffic); in the end the keyboards take over the whole arrangement.

Last Time Around is anything but a slapdash, haphazard record, as these tracks prove. "In the Hour Of Not Quite Rain" (Callen/Furay) [- 3:45] is performed with an orchestra and could (in its own way) pass for a male version of Nico: dark, transcendental and ageless (without a shred of rock in it). "Questions" (Stills) [- 2:52] is a textbook piece of acid-rock (again with that Traffic-like tone worth pointing out); "I Am A Child" (Young) [- 2:15] confirms instead that Young's country-leaning, politically-correct-oriented inspiration still doesn't quite work. Still, Young takes a great step forward here — at least on a formal level, given the freshness and fullness of the whole thing — the very step that will soon allow him to launch his solo career.

"Uno Mundo" (Stills) [- 2:00] is a striking (and not exactly beautiful) piece of world-music that anticipates, to a large extent, Peter Gabriel on one side and Paul Simon on the other ("Graceland"). Between '67 and '68 at least, Stills is an avant-garde artist, not a folksinger. "Merry-Go-Round" (Furay) [- 2:02] and "Kind Woman" (Furay) [- 4:10] are bland filler, true to form for their author.

Left on their own, Messina and Furay had nothing more natural to do than rebrand their output: thus Poco was born.

All three Buffalo Springfield albums are essential. The first for country-rock, the second for the avant-garde, and the third for avant-garde rock. They should all be regarded as classics.

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