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Swim Through the Darkness: My Search for Craig Smith and the Mystery of Maitreya Kali
A successful young songwriter in 1960s becomes derailed by LSD and resulting madness.
Craig Smith was a 1960s golden boy – good looking, charismatic, outgoing; a preternaturally gifted musician and songwriter whose songs were recorded by some of the biggest names in entertainment – Andy Williams, Glen Campbell, the Monkees. His future success seemed assured, until an unexpected turn of events plunged him into a terrifying darkness. Clean-cut Craig Smith became Maitreya Kali, the self-proclaimed psychedelic Messiah. He laid out his poignant, disturbing schizophrenic vision on a sprawling self-released double-album before disappearing completely. Author Mike Stax spent fifteen years piecing together the mystery of Maitreya Kali, uncovering one of the strangest and most tragic untold stories of the 1960s and ‘70s.
Swim Through the Darkness reveals author Stax's fifteen year quest in tracking down this strange saga of American pop culture. Included in the story are Smith's close ties to the Monkees, particularly Mike Nesmith, who produced and promoted Smith's band, Penny Arkade. Also covered are the bizarre self-released albums he made as Maitreya Kali, which now command thousands of dollars among psychedelic music collectors.
Craig Smith was a 1960s golden boy – good looking, charismatic, outgoing; a preternaturally gifted musician and songwriter whose songs were recorded by some of the biggest names in entertainment – Andy Williams, Glen Campbell, the Monkees. His future success seemed assured, until an unexpected turn of events plunged him into a terrifying darkness. Clean-cut Craig Smith became Maitreya Kali, the self-proclaimed psychedelic Messiah. He laid out his poignant, disturbing schizophrenic vision on a sprawling self-released double-album before disappearing completely. Author Mike Stax spent fifteen years piecing together the mystery of Maitreya Kali, uncovering one of the strangest and most tragic untold stories of the 1960s and ‘70s.
Swim Through the Darkness reveals author Stax's fifteen year quest in tracking down this strange saga of American pop culture. Included in the story are Smith's close ties to the Monkees, particularly Mike Nesmith, who produced and promoted Smith's band, Penny Arkade. Also covered are the bizarre self-released albums he made as Maitreya Kali, which now command thousands of dollars among psychedelic music collectors.
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
December 30, 2025
A friend of mine told me about Craig Smith earlier this year and for Record Store Day Black Friday I was able to land a copy of the 2lp Apache/Inca release. I find out about Stax’s bio on Smith and through my library I was able to get the book via loan from Portland Community College. Quite a read. Smith goes from back up singer and dancer on the Andy Williams Show to song writing, acting, and a budding music group career. The Monkees are even involved in general and Mike Nesmith in particular. A fateful trip to the Middle East in the late 1960’s essentially derails the dream. Stax uses interviews, pictures, video, broadcasts, and music to piece together the story. There is way more to this tale, but it is worth hunting it down for yourself if you are interested.
April 11, 2020
Astonishing story, albeit an incredibly sad one. Craig Smith, aka Maitreya Kali, has a story that differs slightly from other '60s drug casualty/soul searcher narratives. Syd Barrett lived in a relative state of comfort and solitude in Cambridge for the rest of his days. Roky Erickson had his son and brother looking out for him, allowing him to enjoy some latter day health and success. Peter Green went through a period of recovery and now has a family of his own. For Craig? Neither recovery nor redemption found him. His descent into madness seemed to keep opening more doors into darkness, each one darker than the ones before.
Mike Stax did a phenomenal job with this book. His research. His piecing together of all the stories and memories shared by Craig's former friends and collaborators. Also, the warmth and compassion he gives, not to only to Craig, but to all of the people who were affected by Craig's severe changes. We may never know what truly transpired during Craig's drugged-out trip throughout the hippie trail, nor the extent of the horrors he experienced during a fateful night in Kandahar. Sadly, it marked the end of his musical success and the beginning of his difficult days to come.
"Swin Through Darkness" is a very engaging and rewarding story. Highly recommended for fans of '60s music culture and the unfortunate dark side of the era. It's certainly a sad reminder that life doesn't always grant us the picture perfect ending.
Mike Stax did a phenomenal job with this book. His research. His piecing together of all the stories and memories shared by Craig's former friends and collaborators. Also, the warmth and compassion he gives, not to only to Craig, but to all of the people who were affected by Craig's severe changes. We may never know what truly transpired during Craig's drugged-out trip throughout the hippie trail, nor the extent of the horrors he experienced during a fateful night in Kandahar. Sadly, it marked the end of his musical success and the beginning of his difficult days to come.
"Swin Through Darkness" is a very engaging and rewarding story. Highly recommended for fans of '60s music culture and the unfortunate dark side of the era. It's certainly a sad reminder that life doesn't always grant us the picture perfect ending.
July 9, 2020
Jeff says:
Craig Smith seemed to be on track to be a star. A folk singer who joined the Andy Williams television show, made a t.v. pilot, was part of an up and coming pop band the Penny Arkade, and wrote songs for the Monkees, Craig was popular, talented, good looking and always seemed to have a smile. That all seemed to change after Craig went to India on a spiritual journey and came back as Maitreya Kali. This is his story, as well as the author’s attempts to find out and fill in the holes of what happened to Craig Smith. The title comes from Craig’s song “Swim,” which Mike Stax uses to describe his own journey in searching for Craig Smith’s story.
Craig Smith seemed to be on track to be a star. A folk singer who joined the Andy Williams television show, made a t.v. pilot, was part of an up and coming pop band the Penny Arkade, and wrote songs for the Monkees, Craig was popular, talented, good looking and always seemed to have a smile. That all seemed to change after Craig went to India on a spiritual journey and came back as Maitreya Kali. This is his story, as well as the author’s attempts to find out and fill in the holes of what happened to Craig Smith. The title comes from Craig’s song “Swim,” which Mike Stax uses to describe his own journey in searching for Craig Smith’s story.
January 26, 2018
This review originally appeared on aomonk.com.
Craig Smith had the world at his feet. A talented singer-songwriter, Smith was handsome, charismatic, easy to get along with; his songs were unique and inventive, both in composition and production. And yet, for the last 35 plus years of his life, Smith wandered the streets of Studio City, homeless and apparently friendless. What happened?
Answering that question led Mike Stax on a fifteen-year odyssey of discovery. Stax conducted hundreds of interviews, combed through public records, and searched newspaper and magazine archives to piece together the details of Smith’s life. This odyssey culminated in Swim Through the Darkness, an exhaustively researched biography of Smith.
Some pieces of Smith’s story are irretrievably lost. There are so many Smiths, even Craig Smiths, that it made it difficult to find the needles in the haystack. Stax’s interview subjects, recalling about memories from forty or fifty years ago, described vague recollections or second-hand rumors. A few people, including the Smith family, declined to comment. Some are now dead.
Despite these considerable hurdles, Stax found out a great deal about this once-promising musician. Craig Smith was his high school class president. At some point, he developed an interest in the burgeoning folk music movement, and learned to play guitar and sing. He declined scholarship offers from several colleges to sing backup vocals on the Andy Williams show. Smith’s good looks and charisma are evident in clips from the show, where he looks and sounds like an all-American kid.
In those early days, Smith was well-liked, even adored, by friends and colleagues. Stax’s book is full of effusive descriptions of the effect Smith had on people: he had a “beautiful dazzling smile,” whole families were “in love with him as a human being,” he was funny and popular and “the typical, wonderful All-American boy.” Not everyone felt the same way, though. Smith sometimes fell into dour moods that came and went without explanation. Doug Brookins, another backup singer, remembers Smith being closed-off and strange:
Smith found success writing songs for others, including Andy Williams, the Monkees, and Heather MacRae. One of his songs, “Christmas Holiday,” appeared on one of the biggest-selling Christmas records of the 1960s, presumably earning Smith a hefty sum in royalties. Despite these successes, stardom eluded him.
While reading, I was surprised by how many times Smith almost made it big. He was the lead in a pilot for a show called “The Happeners,” which was sure to get picked up. It wasn’t. Record deals with several duos and folk groups fell through. Smith’s band, Penny Arkade, was produced by Mike Nesmith of the Monkees. The group was well-liked and seemed destined for success, but they never got a record deal. Smith had many other friends and supporters in the music industry, including Mike Love of the Beach Boys. Nevertheless, Smith never became well-known outside of the Los Angeles music scene.
At the age of 23, Smith went down the “hippie trail,” a path that ran from Greece to India, in search of spiritual enlightenment. According to one fellow traveler, Smith regularly ingested both LSD and hashish on his journey. Instead of finding enlightenment, Smith lost a part of himself that he never recovered.
In Kandahar, Afghanistan, something bad happened to Craig Smith, no one’s quite sure what. Rumors swirled that Craig pulled a knife on a fruit vendor, that he ran through the street wielding a knife, that a mob chased him and beat him up. Smith told several people that he was kidnapped, beaten, and raped over the course of several days. Smith may have also spent time in an Afghan insane asylum. If he was high during the initial attack, which seems likely, the experience may have been that much more frightening and traumatizing.
While Stax heavily emphasizes Smith’s possible brain damage in the attack, I think the assault and possible rape may have also strongly affected him. At that time, there was no real cultural script for how men dealt with sexual trauma––there still isn’t. A friend of Smith’s said that, in his moments of relative clarity, Smith told him that “the major cause of him flipping out was this kidnapping and sexual abuse that he went through.”
Bruce Barbour, another associate, believed the attack may have deeply wounded Smith’s self-concept:
Whatever happened, Smith came back to the states a changed man. Gone was the carefree, charismatic, happy young man the world had known.
Craig developed a massive Messiah complex, proclaiming himself to be “Maitreya Kali,” the living incarnation of the Buddha, Jesus Christ, Gandhi, and half a dozen other spiritual leaders all in one. Craig self-released two more albums, “Apache” and “Inca,” in the early 1970s, under the name Maitreya Kali. The albums combine Penny Arkade tracks with newer compositions.
Why self-released? Sadly, Craig Smith, once so effervescent and effusive, now alienated nearly everyone he came across. He was frightening where he’d been charming, disturbing where he’d been disarming. Right at the moment when he most desired a loyal band of followers, he found himself pushing away even his closest friends. He started to drift away from normal life; after a stint in prison, Smith lived an itinerant or semi-itinerant lifestyle, living in transient hotels and on the streets, for the rest of his life.
There were several issues with this book. Stax clearly worked hard on his material, and I appreciate the care and love that he put into the book. However, he has one “tic” that gets a little annoying. Stax describes some of his interview subjects as “successful” or “acclaimed” without elaborating. Here are several examples:
These descriptions are a little frustrating to read. Successful how? What movies, songs, albums, or other projects did these people work on? What are they doing now? Have they moved into other lines of work, or are they still in the entertainment business? It isn’t always clear. Mentioning a couple projects, e.g. “Bruce Barbour went on to work as a stuntman and stunt coordinator for numerous films and tv shows, such as Charmed, The O.C., and Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds,” would make these sections a lot more engaging.
There are also a fair number of typos. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, since I’m pretty much the king and queen of typos put together, but it’s still a little off-putting. Despite these issues, I recommend this book to anyone interested in psychedelic music, American popular culture, or the Los Angeles music scene in the 1960s and 70s.
There are thousands, if not millions, of similar stories throughout the world. Most of them will never be told. Mike Stax has gone to impressive lengths to tell this one. I hope that Craig Smith’s story will feed into the broader cultural conversation on mental illness and drug use. I also hope this will also lead to a rediscovery of Smith’s music, which I’ve grown to love.
Craig Smith had the world at his feet. A talented singer-songwriter, Smith was handsome, charismatic, easy to get along with; his songs were unique and inventive, both in composition and production. And yet, for the last 35 plus years of his life, Smith wandered the streets of Studio City, homeless and apparently friendless. What happened?
Answering that question led Mike Stax on a fifteen-year odyssey of discovery. Stax conducted hundreds of interviews, combed through public records, and searched newspaper and magazine archives to piece together the details of Smith’s life. This odyssey culminated in Swim Through the Darkness, an exhaustively researched biography of Smith.
Some pieces of Smith’s story are irretrievably lost. There are so many Smiths, even Craig Smiths, that it made it difficult to find the needles in the haystack. Stax’s interview subjects, recalling about memories from forty or fifty years ago, described vague recollections or second-hand rumors. A few people, including the Smith family, declined to comment. Some are now dead.
Despite these considerable hurdles, Stax found out a great deal about this once-promising musician. Craig Smith was his high school class president. At some point, he developed an interest in the burgeoning folk music movement, and learned to play guitar and sing. He declined scholarship offers from several colleges to sing backup vocals on the Andy Williams show. Smith’s good looks and charisma are evident in clips from the show, where he looks and sounds like an all-American kid.
In those early days, Smith was well-liked, even adored, by friends and colleagues. Stax’s book is full of effusive descriptions of the effect Smith had on people: he had a “beautiful dazzling smile,” whole families were “in love with him as a human being,” he was funny and popular and “the typical, wonderful All-American boy.” Not everyone felt the same way, though. Smith sometimes fell into dour moods that came and went without explanation. Doug Brookins, another backup singer, remembers Smith being closed-off and strange:
I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I would try to promote conversation and there was just some dark screen that came in front of him. He wouldn’t even respond to friendly conversation…So when that dark screen came up in front of him, I just walked away.
Smith found success writing songs for others, including Andy Williams, the Monkees, and Heather MacRae. One of his songs, “Christmas Holiday,” appeared on one of the biggest-selling Christmas records of the 1960s, presumably earning Smith a hefty sum in royalties. Despite these successes, stardom eluded him.
While reading, I was surprised by how many times Smith almost made it big. He was the lead in a pilot for a show called “The Happeners,” which was sure to get picked up. It wasn’t. Record deals with several duos and folk groups fell through. Smith’s band, Penny Arkade, was produced by Mike Nesmith of the Monkees. The group was well-liked and seemed destined for success, but they never got a record deal. Smith had many other friends and supporters in the music industry, including Mike Love of the Beach Boys. Nevertheless, Smith never became well-known outside of the Los Angeles music scene.
At the age of 23, Smith went down the “hippie trail,” a path that ran from Greece to India, in search of spiritual enlightenment. According to one fellow traveler, Smith regularly ingested both LSD and hashish on his journey. Instead of finding enlightenment, Smith lost a part of himself that he never recovered.
In Kandahar, Afghanistan, something bad happened to Craig Smith, no one’s quite sure what. Rumors swirled that Craig pulled a knife on a fruit vendor, that he ran through the street wielding a knife, that a mob chased him and beat him up. Smith told several people that he was kidnapped, beaten, and raped over the course of several days. Smith may have also spent time in an Afghan insane asylum. If he was high during the initial attack, which seems likely, the experience may have been that much more frightening and traumatizing.
While Stax heavily emphasizes Smith’s possible brain damage in the attack, I think the assault and possible rape may have also strongly affected him. At that time, there was no real cultural script for how men dealt with sexual trauma––there still isn’t. A friend of Smith’s said that, in his moments of relative clarity, Smith told him that “the major cause of him flipping out was this kidnapping and sexual abuse that he went through.”
Bruce Barbour, another associate, believed the attack may have deeply wounded Smith’s self-concept:
[Craig] was all about peace and love, and had never encountered anything like that before. That would have been such a betrayal to him that it might very well have been an awakening that he didn’t want to deal with…He was personable, attractive, talented—everybody loved him…if somebody beat him up he would’ve been just so astounded that it may well have turned his head around.
Whatever happened, Smith came back to the states a changed man. Gone was the carefree, charismatic, happy young man the world had known.
Craig developed a massive Messiah complex, proclaiming himself to be “Maitreya Kali,” the living incarnation of the Buddha, Jesus Christ, Gandhi, and half a dozen other spiritual leaders all in one. Craig self-released two more albums, “Apache” and “Inca,” in the early 1970s, under the name Maitreya Kali. The albums combine Penny Arkade tracks with newer compositions.
Why self-released? Sadly, Craig Smith, once so effervescent and effusive, now alienated nearly everyone he came across. He was frightening where he’d been charming, disturbing where he’d been disarming. Right at the moment when he most desired a loyal band of followers, he found himself pushing away even his closest friends. He started to drift away from normal life; after a stint in prison, Smith lived an itinerant or semi-itinerant lifestyle, living in transient hotels and on the streets, for the rest of his life.
There were several issues with this book. Stax clearly worked hard on his material, and I appreciate the care and love that he put into the book. However, he has one “tic” that gets a little annoying. Stax describes some of his interview subjects as “successful” or “acclaimed” without elaborating. Here are several examples:
Barbour…went on to become a hugely successful Hollywood stuntman, appearing in countless films and TV shows.
Jackson, who was still based in Los Angeles, had gone on to enjoy a successful career as a songwriter and a session musician…
Baskin would later become a film composer and movie producer, Edie an acclaimed photographer and art director, and Shyer a successful screenwriter, director, and producer.
These descriptions are a little frustrating to read. Successful how? What movies, songs, albums, or other projects did these people work on? What are they doing now? Have they moved into other lines of work, or are they still in the entertainment business? It isn’t always clear. Mentioning a couple projects, e.g. “Bruce Barbour went on to work as a stuntman and stunt coordinator for numerous films and tv shows, such as Charmed, The O.C., and Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds,” would make these sections a lot more engaging.
There are also a fair number of typos. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, since I’m pretty much the king and queen of typos put together, but it’s still a little off-putting. Despite these issues, I recommend this book to anyone interested in psychedelic music, American popular culture, or the Los Angeles music scene in the 1960s and 70s.
There are thousands, if not millions, of similar stories throughout the world. Most of them will never be told. Mike Stax has gone to impressive lengths to tell this one. I hope that Craig Smith’s story will feed into the broader cultural conversation on mental illness and drug use. I also hope this will also lead to a rediscovery of Smith’s music, which I’ve grown to love.
March 5, 2021
Mike Stax writes about the life and tragic story of Craig Smith. The book is extremely well researched and provides an insight into what happened to such a talented singer/ songwriter. I also enjoyed the picture painted of the LA folk/ folkrock scene in the mid to late sixties.
May 28, 2017
Tragic Story Told in an Uniquely Empathetic Voice
I had not known of Craig Smith before reading this book. I had probably purchased it because it was referenced in another book I read. I have a habit of doing this much too often and have amassed a collection of yet to be read books which is almost approaching the limits of my ability to read them all before my ultimate demise. But I digress. This is a sad yet touching story of a possibly significant artist who, justifiable or not, was abandoned by everyone in his life including his family after suffering some traumatic incident along the 'hippie trail' of the 60s. It's clear from book that he suffered some mental illness, probably organic, that perhaps was hastened along by excessive LSD use. However, what's most striking about this biography is it's focus, to the authors credit, on the cruel abject abandonment of his friends and family. Again, whether it was deserved or not misses the point, for on the surface of it, his breakdown and ensuing psychopathy appear very similar to that of Syd Barrett's. Yet through the love of Barrett's family he seems to have lived a comfortable if reclusive life. Smith was much less fortunate, maybe, as this book not so subtlety suggests, due to never having experienced unconditional love. For me this is the most compelling message of the book. How extreme the difference unconditional love can make in any individuals life but in particular in someone whose ability to meet the challenges of life have been comprised. An excellent read!
I had not known of Craig Smith before reading this book. I had probably purchased it because it was referenced in another book I read. I have a habit of doing this much too often and have amassed a collection of yet to be read books which is almost approaching the limits of my ability to read them all before my ultimate demise. But I digress. This is a sad yet touching story of a possibly significant artist who, justifiable or not, was abandoned by everyone in his life including his family after suffering some traumatic incident along the 'hippie trail' of the 60s. It's clear from book that he suffered some mental illness, probably organic, that perhaps was hastened along by excessive LSD use. However, what's most striking about this biography is it's focus, to the authors credit, on the cruel abject abandonment of his friends and family. Again, whether it was deserved or not misses the point, for on the surface of it, his breakdown and ensuing psychopathy appear very similar to that of Syd Barrett's. Yet through the love of Barrett's family he seems to have lived a comfortable if reclusive life. Smith was much less fortunate, maybe, as this book not so subtlety suggests, due to never having experienced unconditional love. For me this is the most compelling message of the book. How extreme the difference unconditional love can make in any individuals life but in particular in someone whose ability to meet the challenges of life have been comprised. An excellent read!
July 22, 2020
This is an excellent biography, very readable, well written, well researched, with a facinating subject. The book may be too good for its subject, a largely forgotten singer and songwriter from the mid-sixties who ends up mentally ill and homeless less than a few years later. Sometimes it is good to read about those who almost make it. Craig Smith was one from that tribe.
September 13, 2022
I came to this book by watching Petey Two-finger's review on Acid Casualties, which piqued my interest in Craig. This book took me on a journey, and thankfully I was able to listen to the music as well. I was deeply impacted. This book humanizes celebrities, and can even give some self reflection as we look at our own potentials and obstacles. Without Mike Stax's preservation, this fascinating story would not be told, and even the memories of the people involved would be as fractured and fleeting as the mind of Craig Smith. This is a solid read for anyone interested in mental health and mysticism and with a reverence for the 1960's and 1970's and the growth and change of America's entertainment industry during that time.
April 20, 2019
An excellent piece of investigative writing. Of particular interest to fans of the LA music scene of the 70s.
November 21, 2022
Truly amazing read. I’d recommend this to anyone who has a heart.
January 8, 2026
A tragic story of one man whose life unfortunately becomes a metaphor for the excesses of the 60s. Exceedingly well researched with extensive interviews with people who knew him.
January 18, 2017
A truly fascinating story and the author Mike Stax is a great tour guide down this rabbit hole. I first learned of the story of Craig Smith in the pages of Ugly Things, the author's long running, essential magazine that shines a psychedelic light on music and culture from the 60s and 70s. It was a long, detailed read that was very captivating. Luckily, Stax decided to give us the whole story - or everything he could unearth about this lost soul of the 60s. Stax is a very skilled writer and so much research went into telling this truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tale of Craig Smith. If you like rock bios from the fringes, this is a must for you.
March 16, 2017
I had no idea what this was beyond someone who got his life changed up through LSD. Lots of pop culture and music history from the 50's and 60's is presented as a background to the life of Craig Smith, all leading up to his eventual turning point.
I am very curious about Craig's music now - I have to see if it is available.
I am very curious about Craig's music now - I have to see if it is available.
November 3, 2021
Collectors who paid thousands of dollars on Ebay for the extremely rare 70s psych albums Inca and Apache from the mysterious Maitreya Kali probably had no idea that the eccentric outsider artist was in fact one of the most accomplished insiders of his day. Maitreya was formerly Craig Smith, an actor, folkie and songwriter from a showbiz family in Studio City, California who had brushes with fame when he almost landed a network TV series and when his band Penny Arkade was being shopped around the LA record companies by Monkee Mike Nesmith.
Those albums full of mystical acoustic songs and trippy rock music were recorded by Maitreya thanks to royalties from songs he had written in his former life for the Monkees, Andy Williams and Glen Campbell. But the music money had also financed Smith's intake of copious amounts of LSD and hash as well as ill-fated world travels that left him traumatized and delusional. By the time he released his musical masterworks, he packaged them in sleeves with disturbing verbiage and imagery. Unable to get them released by a major label, he paid to press them himself and distributed them by handing them out on the street or giving them away to what few friends he had left. After desperate, deteriorating Craig Smith brutally assaulted his mother in the early 70s, he was jailed and then drifted into homelessness and obscurity. Decades later, after his albums had become sought-after collectors' items, the visionary artist died in a park in LA.
Rock writer Mike Stax ran across Maitreya's music in the early 2000s and went on a quest to find out who this oddball musician was and what had happened to him. He's a fine writer, he's done assiduous research, and his portrait of Craig Smith isn't at all lurid or exploitative. Stax is telling the story of what rock music, fame and consciousness meant in the 60s and the lives that were ruined because of that reality.
Among all the other unfortunate things he reports about Smith's latter days, one thing sticks out as being particularly tragic. Stax interviewed plenty of people who knew Smith from childhood or during his days of fame, and even a few who knew him after his transformation into the dark guru Maitreya Kali. But not one person mentions visiting Smith during his incarceration or helping him during his years on the street.
Those albums full of mystical acoustic songs and trippy rock music were recorded by Maitreya thanks to royalties from songs he had written in his former life for the Monkees, Andy Williams and Glen Campbell. But the music money had also financed Smith's intake of copious amounts of LSD and hash as well as ill-fated world travels that left him traumatized and delusional. By the time he released his musical masterworks, he packaged them in sleeves with disturbing verbiage and imagery. Unable to get them released by a major label, he paid to press them himself and distributed them by handing them out on the street or giving them away to what few friends he had left. After desperate, deteriorating Craig Smith brutally assaulted his mother in the early 70s, he was jailed and then drifted into homelessness and obscurity. Decades later, after his albums had become sought-after collectors' items, the visionary artist died in a park in LA.
Rock writer Mike Stax ran across Maitreya's music in the early 2000s and went on a quest to find out who this oddball musician was and what had happened to him. He's a fine writer, he's done assiduous research, and his portrait of Craig Smith isn't at all lurid or exploitative. Stax is telling the story of what rock music, fame and consciousness meant in the 60s and the lives that were ruined because of that reality.
Among all the other unfortunate things he reports about Smith's latter days, one thing sticks out as being particularly tragic. Stax interviewed plenty of people who knew Smith from childhood or during his days of fame, and even a few who knew him after his transformation into the dark guru Maitreya Kali. But not one person mentions visiting Smith during his incarceration or helping him during his years on the street.
August 15, 2023
This biography of / search for a “minor” Sixties pop musician who became a casualty of the era in every possible way is one of the most moving books I have read in a long while. One of its fascinations is how many times Craig Smith came THIS close to break-out stardom. Of course, that is no picnic either and might have led to a whole different set of problems. But it is clear that talent alone is not what makes a star. Even star quality, which Smith had in abundance - everyone who ever knew him is quite clear on that point - is not enough. There is so much luck, timing, “sliding doors” type chances involved.
October 10, 2016
music and a box of ashes, compelling accounts of Craig's Smith's life guided by folks that knew him .
August 12, 2017
Very cool. You'll enjoy it.
February 9, 2021
Stax will get rave reviews from anyone who enjoys great biographies on musicians, but this book transcends its genre.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews