Buffalo Springfield’s third album, Last Time Around (released 7/29/68), has one of, if not the most, interesting backstories of any such tales in contemporary rock history. And because it’s also one of the most complex narratives of its kind, it’s taken over a half-century for all the details to emerge since the record’s original release in 1968.
With so much hindsight now available, the thought occurs that, had the Beatles not become so immersed in their own self-generated melodrama, they might well have learned much from the California quintet, not only about how to produce a record album as diverse as it is disciplined but how to then proceed on to their respective solo endeavors (without too much baggage anyway).
Buffalo Springfield had given its final performance (in May) by the time of this title’s release in July of 1968. But it’s an exceptional album on its own terms, virtually as stylistically diverse as its predecessor, Again, if not quite so ambitious. It’s also noteworthy on a number of other fronts, not the least of which is that, indeed, there was to be a ‘new’ record by the group, Stampede, from which comes one of these tracks, “Pretty Girl Why,” many others of which showed up on the aforementioned late ’67 LP.
More the brainchild of their label than the band itself, the aborted LP was to be released in the summer of 1967 to capitalize on Buffalo Springfield’s hit “For What It’s Worth”. Written and recorded in December of 1966, virtually coincidental with the release of the group’s eponymous debut, the now-famous track composed by Stephen Stills was added to the album as the title was re-released in amended form in March of 1967.
Though the song became something of a rock protest standard in subsequent years, neither the Springfield nor their Atco label ever fully maximized the impact of its sole hit. And the prospective sophomore LP, as originally conceived, never materialized, instead giving way to a long-player seemingly as fragmented as the band personnel itself, but ultimately perceived as an eclectic masterwork.
The Canadian’s “I Am A Child,” his only lead vocal on Around, engendered of the few originals of Richie Furay’s for the Springfield on 1967’s Buffalo Springfield Again, a cheery riposte titled “A Child’s Claim to Fame.” Its dobro-dominated arrangement is an early inkling of his subsequent work (with Jim Messina) in Poco and, most appropriately, its tone is far removed from the superficially doleful (but ultimately optimistic) likes of “Kind Woman,” appropriately sequenced as the final cut of this last Buffalo Springfield effort.
By contrast, the lilting, horn-laden arrangement and performance of Neil’s “On The Way Home” leads off the dozen cuts. Additionally decorated with strings and vibes, there are few if any recordings more representative of Richie Furay’s irrepressibly upbeat nature. Likewise, there’s really no corollary in his discography for the dark moody likes of “In The Hour of Not Quite Rain,” unless it’s this record’s “It’s So Hard to Wait.”
In hindsight, Stephen Stills’ contributions to this album constitute his next-to-last flurry of inspiration before the creative watershed that is CSN’s debut. “Questions” rocks with as much panache as the mostly authentic exercises in Cuban/Latin genres “Uno Mundo” and “Pretty Girl Why;” displaying those influences arising from his living in Florida and Central America as a child, Stills exhibits a flair for understatement that would desert the man in just a few years.
In that respect, carefully camouflaged topical themes, as present on an ominous rocker by the name of “Special Care” plus the moody “Four Days Gone,” became the most egregious examples of his missing self-restraint. To his credit, however, Stills played piano with all due discipline on those latter two tracks and they are only the most prominent instances of his multi-instrumental skill that would become crucial to his future partnership with Crosby and Nash.
Producer/engineer (and group bassist at the time) Messina’s “Carefree Country Day” meshes nicely with Furay’s “Merry-Go-Round,” the emphasis on intricate vocal work a foundation of their future artistic partnership in Poco; evolving naturally out of their collaboration in assembling this album, Furay and Messina’s congruence of purpose rendered Last Time Around a seamless piece of work. By the time this album was released, however, all the members of Buffalo Springfield were entering or at least on the threshold of their next projects.
Furay, Messina, and Rusty Young (who played soft pedal steel on the aforementioned final number) were busy forming the woefully unsung country-rock pioneers. After Stills’ impromptu participation in the Super Session project (with Al Kooper and Mike Bloomfield), he began to align himself more closely with the former Byrd and the ex-Hollie. At virtually the same time, in the wake of his eponymous solo debut, Neil Young initiated what was to be an equally long-term and comparably tumultuous alliance with Crazy Horse, their original moniker referenced on “Running Dry (Requiem for the Rockets),” (a track from their first studio foray together in 1969 Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere).
Drummer Dewey Martin tried to revive the Buffalo Springfield name with new musicians, but he was sued by Stills and Young to prevent him from doing so. Bruce Palmer briefly joined Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, but legal problems kept him from producing much musical output during the rest of the 1960s. Other temporary Springfield enlistees include his replacement, bassist Jim Fielder, who after a stint with Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention went on to join Blood Sweat & Tears. Guitarist Doug Hastings’ stints in this legendary group and membership in an outfit named Rhinoceros is in marked contrast to the prolific output of the high-profile members of Buffalo Springfield.
There’s no question much of the work by Stills, Young, and Furay, in all those varied contexts they’ve appeared (like the David Geffen-manufactured likes of Souther Hillman Furay Band), has been erratic. Nevertheless, the cream of these various crops –as well as Messina’s highly-popular work with Kenny Loggins–reflects positively on the legacy of a group that existed for barely two years. With the benefit of fifty-five years of retrospect, Last Time Around sheds a similarly positive light.
