Graham Nash: 'The Queen stunned me by asking about the Hollies'

Hi, Graham, how are you?
I’m excellent, my friend, thank you very much.

So you went from beat musician to hippy royalty in five years. How did you manage that?
Music! The truth is we [the Hollies] were kids from Manchester who escaped having to do what our fathers did. You were supposed to go down the mine or into the mill. But my mother and father let me escape that.

There’s a nice bit in your 2013 autobiography Wild Tales where it says your mum lived out her dreams of a musical life via your success.
That’s right – that was a very emotional moment for me at Carnegie Hall (1).

It was tragic that your dad died so young – as a result of him going to prison, do you think? (2)
Yeah, I think that really broke his spirit. He was never the same after that.

What was Holliemania like at the peak of the Hollies?
One of the scariest times was after the [NME] Poll Winners concert at Wembley Stadium in 64. We were struggling to get out of there and one of the girls grabbed [guitarist] Tony Hicks’s knitted tie, and when you pull on them they get tighter and tighter – he was dangerously close to choking to death.

George Harrison and Peter Asher auditioned you, David Crosby and Stephen Stills for Apple, didn’t they?
Yes. We had an apartment on Moscow Road in London, we were rehearsing the first record [Crosby, Stills & Nash, 1969], and we had our shit down. To hear Suite: Judy Blue Eyes in our living room was pretty fucking impressive. And they turned us down. So did Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel (3).

Did they see you as rivals?
Very possibly. But how could you listen to that first album sung by the three of us and go: “No thanks.” I never understood that.

What was the Beatles’ All You Need Is Love 1967 global telecast like?
Insane. Paul [McCartney] called me on the Sunday morning and told me they were doing this telecast at Abbey Road, and did I want to go? It was a historic event – the largest television audience ever up to that point.

Was there a jostling for position to get the good seat at the front between you, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Keith Moon and the rest?
Not necessarily. They were all good friends. It was a pretty mellow afternoon and evening.

Less mellow was the night when you, Brian Jones and Jimi Hendrix took LSD during the interval of a Frank Zappa gig …
That’s correct. Ha-ha. The Royal Albert Hall holds a lot of memories for me.

Strong acid?
I’m afraid it was. I’m certainly not condoning taking drugs, but it worked for me then.

Wasn’t there another interesting trip at Winchester Cathedral? (4)
Yes, once again on LSD. Then there was the time I lay in the middle of Stonehenge. In those days, you could touch the rocks and lie on the grass. Now there’s barbed wire and policemen. I had free rein.

When did you stop taking drugs?
On 9 December 1984: that was the night I stopped snorting cocaine. I looked at my friends at a party and they were all faking enjoying themselves and I thought, “This sucks.” And I stopped immediately.

Your wild times, certainly with women, were curtailed in 1977 when you met your wife, actor Susan Sennett.
When you get married and start having a family you have different priorities. I’ve been married for almost 39 years. Nothing’s perfect, as you well know. But I feel good about my life and the choices I’ve made.

How well do you remember the bad old days of, in your words, “blissed-out mayhem”?
I still have a brain, I still have a memory. I had to check a few of the dates [for the autobiography], but apart from that I remember everything. When I got the manuscript back, I sat alone in my house in Hawaii reading it, and when I got to the last page I thought: “My God, I wish I was him.”

You said Neil Young joining the band was “like lobbing a grenade into a vacuum”. And then there’s the bit at the end where you pour your heart out to Young in a lengthy email and he responds simply with: “What a load of shit.”. He’s an enigmatic presence who runs through the book.
Yeah, Neil is a very strange man and I love him dearly. But he is a challenge.

Any regrets?
There’s only one line in one song that I wish I hadn’t written, in Chicago [1969]. We were pretty blitzed. The line, “Regulations – who needs them?” We need regulations. You’re not allowed to drive through a red light. There are certain societal rules that we have to live by. So I sing it differently now. I say: “Some of those regulations – who needs them?”

Would the 26-year-old you have been horrified?
I don’t think so. I think the Graham Nash of now, speaking to the Graham Nash who was writing Chicago, would say: “That line’s a little strong; you do need regulations, you can’t just throw them all out.”

Would the Graham Nash of now have told the Graham Nash of then not to board the plane to America?
Never. It was a very difficult decision to leave the Hollies. They were my friends for many, many years, but when I heard myself singing with David and Stephen that first time in Joni’s [Mitchell] living room, my life changed dramatically. I needed to sing those songs.

How is your friendship with Allan Clarke these days?
Way back on track, and I’m very grateful for that. I think a lot of [the pain] dissipated for me when Crosby & Nash played at the Royal Albert Hall about four years ago. I decided to invite Allan up to sing Bus Stop and the look on his face when I introduced him to the audience – who cheered madly for him – was very healing for me.

Have you heard from Joni since her illness?
I have, yes. She’s out of the hospital. She’s awake, she’s alert, she’s speaking and she’s beginning to walk independently, and that’s all good news.

The descriptions in your book of your time with her made it seem quite magical.
It was. I cherish the time I spent with her. She’s an incredible woman.

Was it hard for your wife to read those passages?
Maybe. Not much I can do about that. When you’re going to write your life story, you’d better not fucking lie, because there are so many people out there who know the truth.

Did you really put Joni over your knee and spank her?
Well, she shouldn’t have poured Cornflakes all over my head.

You’re on a solo tour now, and then there are the Crosby, Stills & Nash dates (5). What’s it like being on stage with them?
It’s much easier. I think the more mature you get, the little things that used to upset you become meaningless. We’re having a good time.

No more Courvoisier and Coke?
Not now. I have a Starbucks in my hand right now.

You were helicoptered out of Altamont. Do you own a helicopter?
No. The only person I know who does is David Gilmour.

Ah, yes. David Gilmour CBE. You’re OBE. I hear you had a long conversation with the Queen?
It seemed long to me, but I’m sure it was only a couple of minutes. She looked fantastic. She’s, what, 86/87? (6). A very sharp cookie. She was incredibly aware of what was going on. And she stunned me when she asked about the Hollies. This is the fucking Queen of England, and she’s asking me about the Hollies. That’s insane!

Isn’t it weird for someone so inextricably linked with the counterculture to be consorting with royalty?
There’s a lot of people who think royalty isn’t a good idea. But when you’re standing in front of a human being who has the DNA of every king or queen of the last 1,000 years, that has a certain weight. And I kept thinking of my mother and father and how proud they would have been of me. So I accepted it, even though I do wonder whether the idea of kings and queens is a good one. I was humbled by her presence.

How about rock royalty? There was that great night in 1969 when you, Joni, Kris Kristofferson and Bob Dylan were at Johnny Cash’s house and everyone was a bit uncomfortable until you picked up the guitar …
It was this incredible dinner, with solid-gold knives, forks and spoons. Bob was there, the first time he’d been out since his motorcycle accident [in 1966], and so everyone was a little on edge when Joni said: “Who’s going to be first [to play guitar]?” Nobody moved, and I thought: “Fuck it, I’ll sing a song.” So I sang Marrakesh Express. Then Bob did several songs from Nashville Skyline. What a night. Everyone was in tears.

Do you get nervous with any musicians?
I’ve achieved quite a lot in my life, but I’m still a fan. I still don’t know what to do around Bob Dylan, and I’ve met him many times. There are certain people in your life who mean enough for you to be intimidated.

Did you feel like the Salford outsider at the Laurel Canyon ball?
I’ve always felt apart, which gives me a certain perspective. I’d already been through the fame shit with the Hollies, so it was no big deal for me to stand in front of half a million people at Woodstock.

Was there an event too shocking to put in your book?
Um … [Long pause]

Does it involve David Crosby?
Yes, it does.

A lot of the scenes with him and cocaine bring to mind Al Pacino in Scarface.
Oh yeah, good God, occasionally it felt like that.

So when you go onstage in a few weeks, will you look over at him and Stephen and think:“How the hell did we get here?”
Yeah. How the hell did we last so long? I think the secret is the music. We’ve all realised that’s the most important part of our relationship. That will be here long after we’re all dead.

Didn’t you once have your front teeth shattered, after a Hollies gig?
Yes, well, you can’t stare at somebody’s tits when their boyfriend’s standing there.

Did you end up in hospital?
No. Just the dentist.

You’re a keen photographer and collector of photographs (7). Do you have a favourite?
Emotionally, of the ones I own it would be the famous Diane Arbus one of the child in Central Park holding a toy grenade. And of the ones I’ve taken, I’d say my portrait of Joni listening to her second album – that’s a beautiful portrait of a beautiful woman.

There was also a portrait that you took of Neil Young, which was on the bulletin board next to the fridge of his house, with the eyes punched out by thumb-tacks, courtesy of his then-wife Susan. That was funny.
Uh, well, actually, it wasn’t funny, was it? It taught me a great deal about Neil’s relationship with Susan.

It’s unusual to have gone from being in a quintessential 60s band to being in one of the acts that defined the 70s …
Yeah, and still going to this day. My next birthday I’m 74. Do I intend to keep going? Until they put the lid on my coffin. And even then I’ll probably start pushing it up.

Footnotes

(1) Nash sprinkled his mother’s ashes onstage during a Crosby & Nash show, saying, “Mom, you finally made it.”

(2) He was imprisoned for 12 months for possession of stolen goods.

(3) CS&N performed in front of them in Simon’s New York apartment, hoping they’d put in a good word with Columbia, but nothing came of it.

(4) The track Cathedral on 1977’s CSN was about a mild freak-out he had at said cathedral when, on LSD, he stood on the grave of a soldier who died in 1799, on Nash’s birthday.

(5) Touring until 11 Oct.

(6) She’s 89.

(7) Nash sold his 2,000-print collection through Sotheby’s in 1990 where it set an auction record for the highest-grossing sale of a single private collection of photography.