“Déjà Vu is one of those albums that can feel simultaneously magnificent and slightly all over the place. That's probably inevitable when you've got four major songwriting personalities pulling in different directions. The result isn't inconsistency in quality. There isn't a bad song here. The inconsistency is tonal. One minute you're in the dreamlike, mystical world of Crosby's title track, the next you're listening to the grand sweep of Neil Young's "Country Girl", then suddenly Graham Nash is inviting you into a perfectly pleasant domestic idyll on "Our House".
And yes, fucking Our House. Every time it starts you almost expect there to be some hidden sting. Maybe it's secretly a savage Vietnam allegory. Maybe it's disguising itself as a song about domestic bliss while plotting something darker underneath. Nope. It's really just Graham Nash being happy with Joni Mitchell. Perfectly lovely. Perfectly sincere. Completely out of place on an album that elsewhere feels like a hazy, fragmented dream. Stick it on a Nash solo album and nobody bats an eyelid.
What Crosby, Stills & Nash bring to Neil Young is heard most clearly on "Helpless". The song itself is wonderful, but those backing vocals elevate it into something transcendent. Throughout the record the harmonies are absurdly good. Even when the album feels like a collection of individual visions rather than a unified statement, the singing binds everything together.
The opening one-two punch of "Carry On" and "Teach Your Children" is tremendous. Their version of "Woodstock" crackles with energy and remains arguably the definitive reading of the song. "4 + 20" is stark and beautiful. "Country Girl" is majestic, belonging to a particular kind of sprawling Neil Young composition that recalls "Broken Arrow". He doesn't write songs like that very often, which makes it all the more special when he does.
The title track remains my favourite thing here. Some hear it as unfinished or sketch-like, almost a collection of fragments stitched together. I've always loved precisely that quality. It drifts in and out like a dream. Crosby absolutely had the goods, and the brilliance of his solo debut the following year only confirms that.
If there's a criticism, it's that the shifts between songs can occasionally be disorientating. "Cut My Hair" borders on melodrama. "Our House" is cosy domesticity. "Country Girl" is widescreen Americana. Individually they're all excellent. Together they can feel a little strange. But this is nit-picking. The variety is also part of the album's charm.
Déjà Vu may lack the singular focus of the very greatest albums, but it's overflowing with great songs, gorgeous harmonies and remarkable performances. A classic album that occasionally feels like four brilliant artists sharing the same room rather than a single band pursuing one vision.”
