By Louie Ferrera

Throughout Stephen Stills’ much celebrated love affair with Judy Collins I’m sure she was many things to him: talented, intelligent, beautiful and most certainly sweet. When first hearing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” announced on the radio, one would naturally think the title to be Sweet Judy Blue Eyes, referring to one of Ms Collins’ many positive attributes. Of course, the “suite” in the song’s title refers to a collection of distinctive musical sections that make up a whole song. Naturally this can be confusing, with “suite” and “sweet” being homophones. To avoid confusion, I suppose Stills could have simply titled his song  “A Suite For Judy Blue Eyes” (insert laugh emoji here). In any event…

What a thoroughly original and inspired song  Suite: Judy Blue Eyes is. When Crosby, Stills and Nash’s eponymously titled debut album was released in the Woodstock summer of 1969, Stephen Stills was at the top of his game as an instrumentalist, singer and songwriter. On this timeless album, Stills is clearly the driving force, playing acoustic and electric guitars as well as keyboards and bass. His nickname throughout the sessions for this album was “Captain Manyhands”.

The centerpiece of Crosby, Stills and Nash is Suite: Judy Blue Eyes. On ”suite” the sections of the song fit together like puzzle pieces to create a perfectly realized musical vision. The song kicks off with a ringing acoustic guitar lick followed by the trademark CSN harmonies. The three verses of this first section rock, Stills provides the grit with nifty fuzztone electric guitar licks behind the vocals. After the third verse an acoustic guitar interlude signals the first change of tempo. The song slows way down for the gentle Friday evening, Sunday in the afternoon section of verses. The harmonic blend of their voices here is a delicious musical gumbo of flavors and textures. A second acoustic interlude, featuring crystalline harmonics and a looping, melodic bass line by Stills, and the tempo shifts again. The energy begins to build with the chestnut brown canary, ruby throated sparrow verses and concludes with the beautifully alliterative lacy lilting lyric, losing love lamenting. After the final line, change my life, make it right, be my lady, yet another descending acoustic guitar lick leads us to the joyous final section of the suite with Crosby and Nash singing the infectious and unforgettable do, do, do ,do, do’s while Stills counters behind them with a verse… in Spanish! It’s all so raucous and celebratory and I always sing along at the top of my voice. This climactic section leaves me breathless every time!

With Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, CSN takes us on an unforgettable rollercoaster ride. Throughout the course of this 7:09 musical masterpiece, Stephen Stills somehow manages to convey to us the ups and downs, the joy and heartbreak, the longing and loss that is a love relationship. A sweet suite indeed!

By Louie Ferrera

Silence is such a beautiful thing. In the hyperdrive world that we live in there are so few opportunities to experience true silence, those opportunities are there but you’ve got to seek them out, silence does not usually come to you. Silence helps me think, allows me to relax, to breathe more deeply and to be present.

I’m writing this at Crane Creek, a jewel in the crown of the regional park system in Sonoma County. It’s quiet. The high whine of a small airplane briefly breaks the silence, but it came and went quickly. The cackle of a raven, the piercing whistle of a Northern Flicker also briefly break the silence but unlike the airplane, the sounds of these birds actually enhance the quiet. A Northern Harrier patrolling above the parched brown hillside makes no sound at all, it dances silently in the still autumn air mere feet from the ground searching for its’ next meal.

Being subjected to the near constant cacophony of our chaotic world is an assault, the escape from which is essential to my health and well being. I feel very fortunate to live not more than 20 minutes or so from a place where I can contemplate a lazy flowing river, be awed by the power of the ocean or simply meditate as I’m doing right now at the base of an oak studded hillside. Here I’m able to cleanse my mind and body of all the noise and negativity and replace it with wonder, beauty and silence. These precious few hours are a battery recharge for my soul.

I love “noisy quiet”: the wind through the trees, the white noise roar of the surf on a beach, the happy bubbling sounds of water flowing over stones, these are all counterpoints to the aural assault that I’m subjected to in my everyday life. Listening to “quiet noises” like these tend to deepen the quality of the silence, after a while these sounds become part of the silence.

Today I’m also being blessed with the “visual silence” of various birds of prey circling, gliding and hunting within view of where I sit. Along with the aforementioned harrier, a white tailed kite slips in and out of my view space, it hoovers nearly upright, flapping its’ wings rapidly, staring intently at the ground below. A Cooper’s Hawk lands on the skeletal branch of a snag, startling the songbirds below. A huge, dark colored hawk flies low right past me and into the top branches of an oak tree that’s dripping with pale green beards of Spanish moss. The ever present turkey vultures use the silence of thermal updrafts as they dip and dive in search of carrion.

Today there is also the silence of clouds, their shifting shapes constantly sculpted by the wind. My imagination takes over and I see the profile of a witch (after all today is Halloween!) Her hair is flowing out behind and I wonder what it would feel like to be up there with her. There’s the silent wisdom of trees, the oldest of which have seen so much over the course of their lives. Their knowledge is stored in the heartwood and bursts forth in the deep green of their leaves. There’s the silence of rocks too. The concept of geologic time that they embody is impossible for me to grasp. Our lingering drought has created the silence of Crane Creek. Small boulders and cobblestones await the impending rains so they can once again give voice to the flowing waters.

As I bask in the stillness of this golden afternoon in late October, I’m deeply thankful for the silence, both within and without me.