I once heard someone describe Buffalo Springfield as shocking. Not because of the content or quality of Springfield's work, but because they simply couldn't understand how a group of so many incredible artists could produce almost nothing of any substance or impact. That's a bit more nihilistic of a view than mine, but I can sum up my own by saying I don't really like them. With the exception of these three songs.

"She said you're strange, but don't change-
And I let her..."

         Mr. Soul has a fantastic groove, a constant driving riff which doesn't once let up- just like the dogged ironies of fame the lyrics rag on about.

"What a field day for the heat,
A thousand people in the street..."

         Really, For What It's Worth is a stupid song if you try to consider it a wizened statement on protest. The Sunset Strip Curfew Riots are about the most fitting of an inspiration you could expect for a song which boils down to a chastisement. A violent clash between protestors and police is condemned more than described in its vague, melting pot imagery. Still, the song is an all-timer for the field day lyric alone.

"City lights at a country fair,
Never shine but always there,
If I'm bright enough to see you,
You're just too dark to care..."

         I don't think much about most of the lyrics in Flying on the Ground, but something I can't place about these lines is really special. And, like the other two songs, just an all-around great melody.

         Claude Debussy's "Clair De Lune" has only ever been beautiful. Still, Basho's twelve-string arrangement of the piece is one of the most beautiful I've heard. Each note pulled from his guitar sounds as if he's playing to you from the end of a long hallway. Each note is a splash, making its way through the boundless space of an unseen concert hall to reach you.
         I sort of wish the size of the audience remained a mystery, but the raucous applause which closes out the recording doesn't leave you wondering.

"There's a heaven and-
There's a star for you,
There's a heaven and-
There's a star for you ..."

I have a lot of thoughts about Johnston. About his peers who played his sickness for genius. But maybe it was. And maybe there's a heaven and- there's a star for you. Etc.

"We were galloping manic ...
And I am blue,
I am blue and unwell,
Made me bolt like a horse,
Now it's done,
Watch it go ..."

What a beautiful song. The two voices are brighter together, and the guitar brighter alone. Even though the lyrics are teetering and almost gossamer, the love they describe shares the same qualities.