“Guinnevere” is an unusual tune. By that time I had hit my stride. It’s in a strange tuning; it’s a strange chord structure. The time signature goes from 4/4 to 6/8 to 7/4. It’s starting to get more sophisticated. Miles knew about us. He knew that the Byrds were signed to Columbia, because when they listened to our demo, they went to Miles, who was on Columbia, and said, “Is this any good?” He said, “Sign them.” So he knew about the Byrds and he knew about me. I’m in New York and it’s winter and I’m standing in front of the Village Gate, and he walks up to me. He says, “You Crosby?” I said yes, and he said, “I’m Miles.” I said, “I know.” He said, “I cut one of your tunes,” and I said, “Gulp. Which tune?” He said, “‘Guinnevere.’ You want to hear it?” I said yeah, and he said, “Follow that car.”
There was a girl with legs up to the top of her head climbing into a Ferrari. I followed it to a brownstone in Midtown that looked like an old castle. Inside it was more like the Playboy Mansion. He sat us down and played this tune while he and the girl took off to the bedroom. I listened to it and he comes back and says, “What do you think?” I said, “It doesn’t sound like ‘Guinnevere.’ There’s no recognizable part of ‘Guinnevere’ in there at all.” I was really disappointed. I was hoping he would do something far more normal. It’s a nice piece, but I told him he should change the name and get the publishing, which pissed him off. He threw me out. It was stupid on my part; it was an honor that he did it. One of the greatest musicians of our time chose to do my song and, in hindsight, it’s one of the greatest things that ever happened to me.