David Crosby and Graham Nash - Whistling Down the Wire (1976)

Released a mere nine months after their Wind On the Water album, David Crosby and Graham Nash's  Whistling Down the Wire, their third duo effort, is a somewhat sedate, more relaxed record compared to its predecessor.  But this was apparently more by design than by accident; Nash later admitted that he and Crosby felt "amped-out" by Wind On the Water.  It's also a somewhat unformed and inconsistent album; there's no cohesive, overall sound to it, and the songs are somewhat abstruse.  To be honest, though, Whistling Down the Wire, while being a lesser album, has some surprises and lucid moments that would be a sneak preview of the more interesting songs that Crosby and Nash would contribute to their 1977 reunion album with Stephen Stills.

Whistling Down the Wire has some measured rock in two standout Nash tunes self-referencing his musical career - "Spotlight," his wry take on stardom, and the sharper "Mutiny," with its allusions to the ongoing strife in Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.  Both songs feature sharp guitar lines and dry drums that underline but do not shout out Nash's sentiments.  The rest of the album moves between light rock and folk, with elements of jazz and blues coloring some of the arrangements.  The bass and drum sections produce a tension that's smoothed out somewhat by the melodic lines of guitars and keyboards.  As befits the title, Whistling Down the Wire is a conversation between Crosby and Nash, between the two of them and their audience, and also between themselves and friends, lovers, and acquaintances.  "Broken Bird," a understated ballad about Nash's girlfriend Susan Sennett (later his second wife) and the source of the LP's title, is as unnerving as a telegraph signal but has a soothing veneer to its message, while Nash's more cryptic "Marguerita" makes good use of drinks as metaphors for romantic interplay to a low-key arrangement in which piano and guitar talk to each other in hushed, chilling tones.  

There's a great deal of confessional songwriting in  Whistling Down the Wire, the product of two men who are calling themselves into question.  Nash's "J.B.'s Blues" (addressed to their photographer friend Joel Bernstein) and "Taken At All" are somewhat cynical admissions of the precarious state of the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young partnership, with some tight music to match, while Crosby admits to his own shortcomings in his lackadaisical but pensive, blues-based "Foolish Man."  For that, and more, Whistling Down the Wire seems to be a rather erratic album.  Still, it's a good one; the duo's harmonies are as strong as ever, and you don't want to be without Crosby's engaging ballad "Time After Time" or the cathartic, uplifting closer, "Out Of the Darkness."  Written by Crosby and Nash with their sideman keyboardist Craig Doerge in a folk-gospel vibe, "Out Of the Darkness" is an affirmation of hope for the future and an expression of relief in the aftermath of trouble.  It was a perfect song for 1976, written in the aftermath of Vietnam and Watergate and on the eve of the first Crosby, Stills and Nash studio collaboration in years.  In retrospect, given everything that's happened to CSN (and CSNY) and America since, it's a reminder that bliss, like Whistling Down the Wire itself, is fragile but still something to value.