In the shadowy heart of Boulder, beneath the gothic arches of Chautauqua Auditorium, an eerie whisper of fate interrupted Graham Nash's opening tour night. As the lights flickered and died, darkness embraced the classic venue. A sudden hush fell over the eager crowd, like a murmur from the abyss, as the very air seemed to shiver with anticipation. The power outage, we were informed, had swept through the Hill, leaving even the most venerable of houses cloaked in darkness.
Yet, in true troubadour fashion, Graham Nash emerged from the twilight with a grin, as if conjured by the capricious spirits of the evening. With an acoustic guitar cradled in his arms, he and his companions ventured into an intimate, impromptu serenade. It was a séance of sound, conjuring memories and melodies for the 1,300 souls gathered in the hallowed hall.
The ethereal strains of "Wasted on the Way" gently opened the set, Nash's voice a wistful echo of bygone days. The harmonies, even without the electric amplification, felt like whispers from a distant shore, reminding us of the transient nature of time and youth wasted.
"Marrakesh Express" followed, the joyous chords rolling like a magic carpet ride through the audience. It was a journey through the sands of nostalgia, each chord a stepping stone to the psychedelic days of the late '60s. The imagery of bustling Moroccan markets danced vividly in the listeners' minds, a colorful tableau painted by Nash's melodic incantations.
"I Used to Be a King" was an introspective plunge into the melancholic depths of loss and reflection. Nash's voice, a haunting echo, carried the weight of a man who had walked the halls of his own memories, now sharing his spectral journey with us. The lyrics, poignant and raw, resonated with the quiet despair and fragile hope of reclaiming one's place in the world.
"Military Madness" brought a jolt of reality, a stark reminder of the world's grim machinations. Nash's poignant commentary on the futility of war was as relevant as ever, his voice cutting through the darkness with a sharp, unwavering truth. The acoustic arrangement lent the song a chilling, stripped-down honesty, echoing the cries of the disenfranchised.
The humor in "Right Between the Eyes" provided a moment of levity, with Nash weaving a tale of wit and sarcasm. The lyrics danced playfully, a clever juxtaposition to the more somber themes of the evening. It was as if he winked at the audience, a conspiratorial nod acknowledging the absurdity of life's ironies.
The cover of "Bus Stop," a tribute to the Hollies' days, was a delightful detour. Nash's rendition carried the innocence of young love, the gentle melody wrapping around the crowd like a warm embrace. It was a fleeting moment of light-hearted joy amidst the darker tones of the set.
"Immigration Man" struck a chord with its timely relevance, a lamentation of borders and bureaucratic absurdities. Nash's voice carried a righteous anger, a call for empathy and understanding. The song's acoustic rendition was raw and powerful, its message cutting through the still night air with clarity.
When the familiar chords of "Love the One You're With" began, the crowd was swept into a collective sway. Nash’s rendition of the Stills classic was a jubilant celebration, a reminder to seize the joy in the present moment. The acoustic arrangement lent a soulful, introspective quality to the exuberant anthem.
"Wounded Bird" was a tender moment, Nash's voice fragile yet resilient, like a bird nursing its broken wings. The delicate melody was a balm, soothing the wounds of the soul with its gentle, nurturing touch.
Following the tender strains of "Wounded Bird," Nash and company delivered the haunting harmonies of "Find the Cost of Freedom." The song's solemn tones echoed through the auditorium, as the voices melded into a powerful lament. It was a sobering moment, a meditation on the sacrifices made for liberty and the price often paid for freedom. The simplicity of the acoustic arrangement underscored the gravity of the lyrics, leaving the audience in a reflective hush, contemplating the profound truths laid bare in the music. The performance was a solemn reminder of the enduring relevance of these themes, resonating deeply in the hearts of all present.
"Lay Me Down" was a bittersweet lullaby, Nash's voice a soft caress against the backdrop of the auditorium’s silence. It was a song of surrender and acceptance, a whispered prayer to the cosmos.
"Just a Song Before I Go" was a poignant reminder of life's fleeting nature, a brief yet powerful reflection on the transient beauty of existence. Nash's voice, resonant with years and experiences, left a lasting impression on the listeners' hearts.
The familiar chords of "Our House" evoked a collective sigh of nostalgia. Nash’s voice, warm and inviting, painted a picture of domestic bliss and simple pleasures. It was a love letter to the past, a tender recollection of a time when life was simpler and love was all-encompassing.
"Chicago" brought a surge of energy, Nash’s voice a clarion call for change and justice. The song’s message was as powerful as ever, a reminder of the power of collective action and the importance of standing up for one’s beliefs.
Before launching into "Teach Your Children," Nash shared a heartfelt anecdote about Jerry Garcia's impeccable pedal steel guitar work on the track. He recounted how Garcia nailed it in one take, leading to the iconic sound that became a cornerstone of the song. In a touching gesture, Nash gifted Garcia a Fender guitar, which would later become the legendary "Alligator guitar." The song itself was a gentle, guiding hand, a soothing balm for the soul, its harmonies wrapping around the audience like a warm blanket.
The evening concluded with an encore of "Ohio," the haunting refrain echoing through the auditorium. Nash's voice carried the weight of history, the sorrow, and anger of a generation mourning lost lives and demanding change. It was a powerful, somber end to a night filled with unexpected magic and raw emotion.
As the final notes faded, the audience was left in a reflective silence, the night’s events a tapestry of memories and emotions. Nash's wit and wisdom had shone through, turning an unexpected power outage into an unforgettable acoustic experience. It was a night of ghosts and whispers, of laughter and tears, a fitting start to a tour that promised to be as unpredictable and enchanting as the man himself.
