ASPEN - David Crosby's appearance at Belly Up Aspen Tuesday night was part of the Aspen Writers' Foundation's Lyrically Speaking series, and interviewer Paul Zollo got quickly to the topic at hand, probing at the outset Crosby's thoughts on the songwriting process.

The famed rocker responded that writing songs is a shadowy process, and noted that songs tend to come to him in moments between wakefulness and sleep, when the mind is slipping into the unguarded realm of dreams.

So Crosby, notable for membership in two landmark groups, the Byrds and Crosby, Stills & Nash, could shed little light by speaking on the songwriting process. Even his own songwriting, which has yielded such gems as "Wooden Ships," "Long Time Coming" and "Déjà Vu," is a mystery to him: Songs come to him every which way; any sense of methodology is foreign to him; inspiration comes from a place that he cannot locate.

But when Crosby finally, after a bit of a tease, picked up an acoustic guitar and started playing those off-kilter licks from "Déjà Vu," illumination came at last. There are some things that defy words, and while songwriting on the whole may not be one of them, the way that Crosby writes seems to be. It was noted repeatedly by Zollo that a David Crosby tune doesn't follow the standard structures of a song - not even close, in fact. So the best way to gain an understanding of Crosby's writing was to see and hear the results, and when Crosby picked his way through "Déjà Vu" - and later, parts of "Long Time Coming" and "Triad" - they were instances of clarity: "So that's the essence of his songwriting."

On other topics, Crosby's words were clearer, heartfelt and lighthearted, and given with little hesitation. He was adamant in his opinion that singers should not shy away from politics, comparing the contemporary musician's role to that of the old town crier, informing the citizenry about the state of the world. ("It's 11:30 and all is well. It's 12 o'clock, and there's a chimpanzee loose in the White House," bellowed Crosby, in one of several jabs at President Bush.) He gushed adoration on his friends, especially Graham Nash and Jackson Browne, and his wife of 30 years, Jan, who was in attendance at Belly Up. He praised the gifts of late guitarist Michael Hedges and of Joni Mitchell, whom he said was the songwriting equal of Bob Dylan - and a better musician.

The 66-year-old Crosby didn't shy away from the darker episodes of his past, and earned laughs by pointing out the advantages of being old, fat and burned out while having to do time in a Texas state prison. He even let slip that, after 14 years of sobriety, he still smokes pot on occasion. The revelation was muted by the fact that, earlier in the evening, Crosby had requested a glass of wine.

Only one subject threw Crosby out of his good mood, his thorny and complex relationship with longtime bandmate Stephen Stills. Crosby warned Zollo not to get too deep into that thicket, but the subject could not be suppressed. When Zollo mentioned that all of Crosby, Stills & Nash had been romantically involved with Joni Mitchell, Crosby corrected him, and said that Stills had been excluded from that privilege. "Joni had to draw the line somewhere," said Crosby with a naughty grin.

The soldout audience could hardly have asked for more in the speaking department, as Crosby was witty, humble and engaged. And hardcore fans expressed satisfaction with the song selection, which included the lesser-known, highly evocative "Carry Me" and "Page 43."

The evening could have used a few more songs. Crosby didn't settle into true performance mode until the finale, the gorgeous, one-of-a-kind "Guinnevere." Crosby revealed that the song was about three different women: Joni Mitchell; his old girlfriend Christine Hinton, who had been killed in a car accident; and a third, whom he has not and would not reveal. And then Crosby launched into the lyrics - "Seagulls circle endlessly/ I sing in silent harmony" - and there was no better way to enter the world of his songwriting.