You can buy 'All The Things - The Alan's Album Archives Guide To The Music Of The Byrds' by clicking here!
"The Byrds" (1973)
Full Circle/Sweet Mary/Changing Heart/For Free/Born To Rock
and Roll//Things Will Be Better/Cowgirl In The Sand/Long Live The
King/Borrowing Time/Laughing/See The Sky About To Rain
Ever since Gene Clark left the band in 1966 after
the peak of 'Eight Miles High', fans had been asking 'gee I wonder what the
next Byrds album with the original line-up might have been like?' After David
Crosby was sacked and Michael Clarke left in quick succession in late 1967, it
seemed as if we would never know. There was such bad blood between the five
members that it seemed as if the flock had departed forever. But then a funny
thing happened: after being adamant that he could put a new band together as
good as the 'old' Byrds (which he very nearly did with 'Untitled'), Roger
McGuinn grew increasingly fed-up with the new line-up (who bickered less than
the original band but argued more over key decisions) and began to look for a
way out after two disappointing final albums. David Crosby, now flying higher
with CSN than he ever had as a Byrd, began to talk, encouraging McGuinn to
'drop' his new band and push himself artistically. Gene Clark's solo career,
while sporadically as great as anything he'd made in the band, was falling
apart. Chris Hillman was technically unemployed after the break-ups of his two
'interim' bands 'The Flying Burrito Brothers' and 'Manassas'. Michael Clarke
needed to finance the semi-retirement he'd found himself in after the Burrito
Brothers crashed. For the first time
since 1966 al five Byrds were in a position to talk and rekindle their old
fire. A reunion album was on the cards at long last - after some eight years of
the band increasingly trying to distance themselves from their early days in
their separate ways the Byrds were set for lift-off again, having come full
circle.
The stage seemed set for a Byrds renaissance. Now
that the 60s were receding into the distance fans of many bands began to get
nostalgic for the good old days and felt lost in an alien sea of pop, glam-rock
and funk: what they needed was a bold and daring pioneering band from the old
days to show these newcomers how things were done. The Byrds themselves seemed
friendlier than they ever had, with this
album the first time ever that all four songwriting Byrds had a more or less
equal slice of the songwriting pie (Gene Clark having left the band before
Chris Hillman's first song). Hopes were high for a big tour, perhaps several
tours, with a series of reunion albums to run throughout the rest of the 1970s
(juggled round the five members' respective solo careers and CSN reunions, with
one already on the cards for the end of the year). After being formed
relatively quickly for an AAA band (with McGuinn, Clark and Crosby merely
casual acquaintances before getting together as a trio, with Hillman and Clarke
added at a later date through manager Jim Dickson rather than friendship), The
Byrds were determined to do things properly this time: they all knew each other
well enough by now, they'd all found success of their own away from the band
and there were less ego hang-ups and squabbling for position. What could
possibly go wrong?
Well, The Byrds reunion is generally seen as
unmitigated disaster by fans, an anti-climax in every conceivable way. Heard
back to back with the last album the quintet had made ('5D' - Clark left in the
middle of the sessions) or the last time 3/5ths of the original band had been
present ('Notorious') then the problem with this album becomes clear: it's nice
and pleasant but doesn't try anything bold or daring and The Byrds aren't tight
enough a unit to compete with similarly bland-but-competent bands (of which the
early 1970s was filled with many). Most fans assumed that old wounds simply hadn't
healed and the slanging matches that went on in the press afterwards seem to
agree with that (with Crosby generally singled out for blame), but actually
from what I can tell this reunion album was genuinely harmonious. It's just
that the band's wings were clipped to some extent; The five members were so
keen not to step on each other's toes that they made this record cautiously,
holding back on their more progressive and courageous ideas. Back in the 1960s
they'd been wild and with it and didn't know what failure tasted like: now,
though, after so many years out of the spotlight this album suddenly matters a
great deal and ironically the more thought they put into it the less
spontaneous it feels. There are an awful lot of awful AAA reunion albums clogging
up these books and the reason is simple: the spark that inspired a band to
create and persevere with their muse rarely comes back again once extinguished:
Paul McCartney calls it 're-heating a souffle'; we call it making a microwave
meal after years of perfect baking: technically the two things do the same job
but instead of baking all the way through over a longer time the microwave
merely re-heats the same electrons over and over again for a shortened, less
appetising burst of what came before (assuming the microwave doesn't set on
fire that is). Put simply hardly anyone here is here for the right reasons:
McGuinn is using the original line-up to restore his credibility after some
patchy albums and a good excuse to kick the latest line-up out; Crosby is
getting 'closure' - returning to the band who once kicked him out for having no
talent at a time when he was the only member of the band most average music
fans could name; Hillman and Clarke are filling in time between jobs and
unashamedly enjoying the money after lesser years; only Gene Clark seems to
have relished these recordings for the chance it gave him to repair old
friendships and heal old wounds.
A band like The Byrds didn't simply create temper
tantrums because they felt like it - they were a group who (by and large)
thrived on friction to make things happen - on the competition between the
members and their ability to tell each other to their faces what they thought
of each other (well everyone except McGuinn perhaps, but it's interesting that while
he 'chose' everyone who joined the band post-Gram Parsons they all tended
towards the warring, combative David Crosby types with the possible exception
of Clarence White). The Byrds were all about the friction between themselves
pushing them to greater heights - all that 'after you' 'no, after you' business
simply wasn't conducive to their strengths of daring brilliance and
spontaneity. I mean just look at the portrait on the back sleeve of the Byrds
gathered self-consciously around a bar, laughing a little too loudly at each
other's jokes (it's like a school reunion from people who only just barely
remember each other - not bosom pals who've been dying to work together).
Luckily the front sleeve, where the band are playing, looks more convincing, although
even here note how none of the band are making eye contact, each lost in their
own worlds - there's a metaphor for the album in these two sleeves somewhere.
The other trouble with this album is how rushed it
all was. Had the band spent a proper amount of time together planning and
rehearsing this album not only would they have been a tighter (and more likely
to push the envelope) but they would have had more time to write a decent set
of songs. McGuinn had been struggling for a while - my guess is that he'd got
so into writing his 'Gene Tryp' musical with Dylan lyricist Jacque Levy that
he'd rather 'forgotten' how to write stand-alone songs again and his only stand
out track of the first half of the 1970s is 'Tiffany Queen', a song about a
lamp. Chris Hillman recycles two songs he had left over from the Manassas
second album 'Down The Road' (co-written with either Dallas Taylor or Joe Lala,
the drummer and percussionist from that band), possibly already with an eye to
saving his best work for a solo record. David Crosby, never the most prolific
of writers, simply has nothing left after so many intense years with CSNY and
working on his first solo record - he even re-records one of the latter's best
songs with The Byrds (as if to prove how far he's travelled without them?)
However there's one member who shines like the diamond he was and who gives
this record the two highest moments: Gene Clark has been waiting for this
opportunity for years (he'd even temporarily returned as Crosby's replacement
in 1968 but only seems to have lasted two months and a few TV appearances where
he looks distinctly uncomfortable miming to songs he doesn't know; he never did
re-record with the band till this album).
While even I can't find a good word to say about
most of the record, both 'Full Circle' and 'Changing Heart' point to how
'right' a Byrds reunion album could have been for the times. 'Full Circle' was
written a full year before the reunion album (Clark's solo version will appear
on his surprisingly excellent 1977 collection of odds and ends 'Roadmaster')
but fits like a glove: the band are older, wiser, their time has come again and
they're better able to deal with it this time. A message of 'don't give up!'
delivered to the world who never expected to see another Byrds album again, let
alone one with the original five back in it, this is one track that sounds very
much like The Byrds always did: McGuinn's guitar is upfront, the harmonies (now
with Hillman joining in too - he only started singing to cover Gene's absence)
are exquisite and anyone who'd been stuck in a time-warp for eight years would
still recognise this as the same band who sang 'Mr Tambourine Man'. However the
Byrds song it reflects best is 'Turn! Turn! Turn!', with everything left to
fate and everything due to have its 'season' ; in many ways though, Gene's
lyrics are even more moving and better written than the Book of Ecclesiastes
that inspired the original! Although a surprise flop when released as a single,
'Circle' has undergone a bit of revisionism from fans in recent years to the
point where it's nor regarded as the last great song put out under the band
name - and quite right too; Gene may not have written it with The Byrds in mind
but it's perfect for their strengths. Almost as good but almost never highly
rated amongst fans is Clark's other song on the album, 'Changing Heart', a
darker more brooding song about how people change that's related as a love
affair (and was once more written before the reunion project) but naturally in
context sounds as if he's singing about the band ('Falling victim to the game
of time, I place my name in the lost and found' sounds very like the band
before starting work on this project).
Unfortunately no other song manages to be either
this deep or that lucky in terms of representing a new-look Byrds for 1973.
McGuinn either can't remember or can't find the inspiration to write a
'folk-rock' song so does what he's been doing the last couple of Byrds albums
anyway, coming up with a rocker and a folk song, neither of which quite
fit and both of which are woefully
played (to be fair no band seems to have been able to play 'Born To Rock and
Roll' convincingly - both the final Battin/Parsons/White line-up of The Byrds
and the McGuinn band who played on his first solo band sound even worse).
Hillman has clearly been writing with Manassas in mind, where his songs might
have sounded fine, but the 1973 Byrds aren't clever enough at suddenly veering
off into different styles: 'Things Will Be Better' should be laidback with sudden
bursts of adrenalin, but just sounds like the same sort of thing played with
different standards of sloppiness; 'Borrowing Time' would sound nice as
calypso-Latin of the sort Manassas exce3lled in - as a simple folk tune it's a
drag. The biggest surprise is how out of sorts David Crosby sounds: 'Laughing'
is so obviously a CSN song (even if it technically appears on a solo album)
that it was never going to fit The Byrds as well: while the single greatest
composition on the record (it's one of Croz' very greatest songs) The Byrds
aren't the sort of mystical philosophical sympathetic band to coax the best out
of the song and really shows how integral guests Jerry Garcia, Graham Nash and
Joni Mitchell were to the original: 'Mind Gardens' style fills from McGuinn are
cute, but wrong. Crosby also gets to finally place his favourite ever song on a
record (Joni Mitchell's 'For Free', which has been played him in concert more
often than even old warhorses like 'Almost Cut My Hair' and 'Guinevere'). Alas
this solo performance, while respectable, sounds deeply out of touch: Joni's
lyrics about a beggar playing simply for the music is once again a CSN song,
not a Byrds one (especially a potentially lucrative reunion album) and nobody
else gets anything to do. His one new song for the album 'Long Live The King'
is a nice try with some fine guitar meshing, but Crosby hogs all the vocals and
The Byrds aren't used to his unusual jazzy tunings and awkward switches of
tempos - a version of this song with Stills on guitar might have been terrific
- this just sounds average. Crosby, remember, was treated as the 'producer' of
the record at the time (although he took his name off the credits which simply
don't list a producer - out of solidarity he claimed, out of horror at how it
turned out according to McGuinn) and he at least should have been having a go
at tailoring his songs to the band's sound.
That leaves two Neil Young songs. Nobody, including
the band, is quite sure why The Byrds
are spending a precious seven minutes of their reunion album covering Neil
Young songs when the band a) rarely covered anyone in their time together and
b) tended to go for either pre-war standards done 'Byrds-style'. The
Springfield always had close links to The Byrds of course, but Neil Young had
even closer links to David Crosby and ends up sounding like an 'ersatz' CSNY.
At the time 'See The Sky About To Rain' was an unreleased song (Neil
re-recorded it for 'On The Beach' in 1974) so to some extent it makes sense -
although poor Gene really struggles with the cryptic lyrics (Crosby guiltily
recalled later that he should have got Roger to sing it and gave it to the
slighted Gene to make a 'statement' - although while folky it's not really up
Roger's street either; why didn't he sing it himself?) There's no excuse for
'Cowgirl In The Sand', though. At the time reviewers wanting to find something
nice to say about an album they'd so eagerly waited for praised the band for
revisiting Neil's electric ten minute Crazy Horse original as a fragile folky acoustic
song - but presumably they didn't know the arrangement was already Neil's,
having already been heard that way on CSNY's live 'Four Way Street' record. To
his credit, Crosby was probably rallying behind his friend Neil who was going
through a terrible period in 1973 (Crazy
Horse guitarist Danny Whitten had overdosed with the severance pay Neil had
given him because he couldn't keep up with the band, the rest of whom rebelled
on tour and asked for more money; the only bright spot came when Crosby and
Nash dropped their own plans to tour to join their companion on stage and help
out - you wouldn't have caught the original Byrds doing that!) Neil, right at
the start of his poor-selling 'doom trilogy', seemed to be disappearing from
the public consciousness and this might have been David's way of ensuring a
regular royalty and a bit of extra critical acclaim (Stills, too, started
covering his partner's songs on record in this period). A kind idea, then, but
hopelessly wrong for the record: Stills or Nash's songs would have fitted the
'Byrds' vibe better as would a more pioneering, ground-breaking politically
charged Crosby song like 'Everybody Has
Been Burned' or 'Draft Morning' (although the rest of the band were probably
fearing exactly that, or perhaps a revival of the three-way love-story
'Triad'). If the band were two slots short on the record and didn't want to add
a 'third' song by any band member (in the name of democracy) then why not cover
a Dylan song like the old days? A gene Clark harmonica-led 'It's Alright Ma'
could have been amazing; a re-make of 'The Chimes Of Freedom' poignant; a
re-make of 'Mr Tambourine Man' or even better Pete Seeger's 'Turn! Turn! Turn!'
would have been highly moving. Alas it wasn't to be. Usually this is the point in
a review where I talk about an album 'theme' - but this album features so many
disparate points of view that for once there isn't one (overthrowing
out-of-date ideas crops up in 'Full Circle' and 'Long Live The King' - that's
about it!)
All of the above can be excused: there was a feeling
within the band that even if this record wasn't quite right the second would
be, when everyone had settled back to working with each other and worked out
what their updated sound would be. What can't be excused is how un-like The
Byrds most of this album is: while there's a nice lot of acoustic strumming
(which sounds good and something the Byrds had never really exploited until
now), McGuinn rarely gets his Rickenbacker out of the case. Surely that more
than anything would have proven that this really was 'The Byrds' . The band's
other big selling point - the harmonies - are there but in bits and pieces.
Sadly only on 'Full Circle' do we get all four singing Byrds in full bloom (and
even then McGuinn and Hillman are so hidden you can barely hear them) - the
rest of the album generally features just Crosby singing in harmony with which
ever member of the band happens to be doing the lead vocal. Surely anyone
attached to this album would have told The Byrds 'you can sing about what you
want in whatever style you want - but do at least one song with the
Rickenbacker jingle-jangling and for God's sake at least sing together even if
you don't play together!' This more than anything else is the album's weakest
hand and makes it sound more than ever like a collection of solo songs rather
than a 'band' album.
One sad postscript: one possible reason Rogeer
doesn't play on this album much might have been because he expected 'his' parts
to be filled by Clarence White's. Roger desperately wanted his old friend to
play with him - as well as being a fine guitarist who would have been
especially good on fellow country lover Chris Hillmans' songs, he would have
made a fine sympathetic buffer between the band members. Many people - including
Gene Parsons - have speculated that's why he and Skip Battin were fired in
1972, so Roger could legally do exactly that with White still a full-time
member but Clarence stayed loyal to his friends and quit soon after. Sadly it
was a decision that might have cost him his life - Clarence returned back to
his family band and was loading his van with his equipment late one Winter
night in July 1973, just three months after the release of this album, when he
got knocked down and killed by a passing drunk-driver and died in his brother
(and fellow guitarist's) arms at the age of 29. Had he been 'hired' for the
reunion album - or stayed with Roger - he might never have been playing that
night and might still be around today, playing with a reformed Nashville West with
his old buddies Gene Parsons and John York (sadly Skip died in 2007*). It goes
without saying that if he had played on this reunion album it would have
sounded an awful lot better.
As a result the Byrds flop reunion cost Roger more
than any of the others - while everyone else slowly slunk away to their own
separate lives (Chris joining another new band, 'Souther-Hillman-Furay', a
CSN-like band who never quite gelled), McGuinn was stuck. I think reading
between the lines from what he was saying at the time he still hoped to reunite
with the last Byrds line-up if the reunion albums didn't last and hoped that
having a more lucrative side-deal might shake them up a bit after two
lacklustre albums - but without White he couldn't bring himself to put The Byrds
back together. After looking healthier than they ever had, the failure of this
reunion project effectively killed The Byrds stone-dead and forced McGuinn into
the solo act he'd been putting off since
1968. As a result the band name died too (at least until an even briefer
reunion in 1990 with just three Byrds present) and the next talk of a reunion,
in 1978, will end up as the unlikely sounding bunch of folkie solicitors
'McGuinn Clark and Hillman' (while nowhere near the original Byrds either,
their three records with and without Clark do share slightly more Byrds DNA
than most of this sorry record).
As for 'The Byrds', it's ironic that the only album
named after the band and the only one to feature all four songwriting Byrds at
the same time is the one that sounds least like them. A bit of a mess, but
caused by kindness and politeness rather than arguments and fall-outs as
expected, 'The Byrds' (oh let's just give it the perfect name everyone should
have used and be done with it: 'Full Circle'!) is a sad and sorry end to a
discography that tried more new and daring ideas than most bands did across 50
years together, chopping and changing styles all the way through to this rather
bland and same-sounding end. Many fans wish this record wasn't here at all -
and yet I'd hate to be without either 'Full Circle' or 'Changing Heart', two
real highpoints from the band's time together. You see 'The Byrds' could have
been far worse - however the sad fact is, with that much talent in the same
room, fans expected this album to be a monumentous event and had higher
expectations than normal. Come to this album expecting a common pigeon rather
than a colourful exotic tropical parrot, however, and you might just find this
under-rated album easier to love.
The
Songs:
[183] 'Full Circle' is the obvious album highlight: a song that sounds
so tailor-made for the occasion that everyone assumed it was until the
fine-print on the back of Gene's solo version in 1977 revealed otherwise.
Clark's song is everything you'd want an updated Byrds to be: older, wiser,
with a melody that sounds like lots of old classics without recycling anything
and lots of space for the whole band to show off, from Crosby's gorgeous
harmony to McGuinn's Rickenbacker to Michael Clarke's sturdy drumming (sadly
back on this album to where he was at the beginning of his career than where he
left off during 'Notorious'). This is Gene's show and his double-tracked vocal
is the most confident he ever made for the band, smoky and dark yet wise beyond
his years on lines like 'you think you're lost...but now you're found again'. A
complete 180 degrees sea-change from 'Bristol Steamboat Convention Blues' (the
last track to be released under the Byrds name and on which Roger - the only
links between the two line-ups - probably doesn't even play on), 'Full Circle'
turns back the clock to 1965 when folk-rock was all the rage for one very good
reason: it offered the chance to ponder deep and intellectual lyrics without
diluting the power and force of rock and roll. Compared to Gene's original
version The Byrds cut is noticeably happy: the backing track is a little quicker
and Gene sings it with a big grin on his face instead of the timid way he sings
his lines solo (which are cleverly worded to work either way - most fans assume
the message is 'don't be miserable because sad times won't last forever' but
could also mean 'don't be too full of yourself when things are going right
because everything comes in cycles' - something the other four might have done
well to ponder on). While many fans would gladly trade in this album with the
big amplifier-carrying rock fairy of fate for an extra Gene Clark era Byrds
album the first time round, I'm rather glad this reunion album exists if only
for this one classic song about growing older and wiser.
[184] 'Sweet Mary' is a real jolt. McGuinn seems to have forgotten or
wilfully wanted to ignore the Byrds' folk-rock past and instead returns to an
even earlier part of his career when he was a pure folkie. In truth the Byrds
should have done this years ago instead of dropping the folkyness from their
repertoire altogether and it's interesting to hear the five Byrds (all of whom
had played folk at some point before joining the band) return back to their
roots. McGuinn still seems to be suffering from the lethargy that's struck him
ever since finishing 'Gene Tryp' however: when uninspired he always borrows
from old melodies and writes lyrics around a girl's name: this time the tune is
nicked wholesale from the Byrds' already recorded 'Jack Tarr The Sailor' (see
'The Ballad Of Easy Rider' from three years earlier) and plucked for Mary
rather than his earlier 'Sandy' and 'Kathleen'. The result is - believe it or
not - another of the album's better songs, thanks to a sensitive reading from
most of the band (Clarke sits this one out) and a nicely aggressive lead from
McGuinn.
[185] 'Changing Heart' is another strong Gene Clark song, with
slightly darker lyrics set to the same bouncy singalong tempo as 'Full Circle'.
Clark never really spoke about this song (which got overshadowed by 'Full
Circle') but like the later McGuinn-Hillman-Clark track 'Basckstage Pass' this
sounds to me suspiciously like a summary of his memories of being a Byrd.
Clark, of course, famously had many a change of heart (quitting the band at
least twice - he should have got together with the Buffalo Springfield's Neil
Young!) . The narrator is torn between the 'praise' he gets when he's reached
the top' with a 'thousand faces' looking on in expectation - and the
disappointment when he gives his all and think he's achieved his best only to
be met with indifference (Gene Clark's solo career before and since is a sea of
lost opportunities, glorious albums ruined by hurried productions or sessions
and stalled collaborations). This song could easily have become one long
superstar moan but Gene is a better writer than that: he's quick to point out
what spurs him on as much as the dangers and traps that cause him to fall
backwards scared. Listen out, too, for more references to 'wheels' - no wonder
Gene is feeling a bit mixed-up as he tells us that one wheel is spurring him
onwards and the other has come off. The roll-along tune also carries us away
without the chance to reflect on this song's nastier points along with some
excellent Clark harmonica-puffing (something he didn't often do in his solo
years) and some great Crosby harmonies. Once again Gene Clark sounds better
prepared for this reunion album than this comrades and has even worked out
distinctive parts for everyone, with more McGuinn Rickenbacker (sadly for only
the second and last time) and great bass-drum interplay.
Crosby's cover of Joni Mitchell's [186] 'For Free' finally gave
CSN fans a chance to own a copy of a song that had long been a live favourite
of his, performed at more gigs than not from 1970 onwards. The song is indeed a
good one that sums up everything Crosby stands for: Mitchell's tired narrator,
bored and angry after a lousy gig, walks home wounded until she's stopped in
her tracks by the gorgeous sound of a busker down the street. He doesn't make
any money for his work except the loose change people throw at him and her
limousines and millionaire jackets suddenly look superfluous and superficial to
her. Crosby does justice to one of his favourite writers (the Byrd was mainly
responsible for Joni being discovered at all, right near the end of his time
with his first band) with an endearing vocal, but this is a song meant for
intimacy and resilience that all but demands to be played simply - the way the
busker does in the song. This band arrangement just distracts from the message
of the song and most of the band sound unsure and tentative, confused as to
what their role on the track might be (with the exception of Michael Clarke who
turns in a noisy drum patter that's woefully loud and unfocussed). The band
should have taken the advice of the song: simplicity is better .
Side one ends with McGuinn's lacklustre [180b] 'Born To Rock and Roll'.
While most of the songs on this album tend towards the non-descript, this is
the one song that everyone remembers because it's really really bad: 'a rolling
and a rocking' might have done for a song chorus in the 1950s and cliched
chat-up lines like 'do you believe in magic?' might have done ok for lesser
bands - but this is The Byrds. Only three years ago Roger was showing us how to
rock properly with the atmospheric story-song 'Lover Of The Bayou' - by
contrast this sounds lifeless and limp, less a tiger waiting to pounce on its
prey than a rather fat and spoilt pussy cat falling face first into its
breakfast bowl. There's just no tension on this track at all, which makes you wonder
why Roger decided to give it lyrics about rock music at all - by rights this
song should be called 'Born To Sing Mid-Tempo'. Roger's vocal is pushed way
beyond its natural limits (as we've already said on this site, those limits are
quite narrow but McGuinn usually gets away by sheer personality - here he just
sounds nasal and shrill, with the entire middle eight unintelligible even after
several listens to the record) and rather than backing him up the sea of voices
and instruments on this track just add to the confusion. McGuinn was often
nasty about the last Byrds line-up in press interviews, especially while
promoting this album where he compared them unfavourably to the original
line-up. But the truth is, however bad a song and however average the
performance, the White-Battin-Parsons Byrds did a far better job of this track
in their last aborted sessions of 1972 (as heard as bonus tracks on the CD
re-issue of 'Farther Along') than the five supposedly better players do here.
The question has to be asked, of course, why such an awful song was attempted
twice without composer quite twigging that this wasn't one of his better ideas.
Why on earth did McGuinn use this song on such a coveted project instead of
other far more interesting tracks that we know he had ready for his first solo
album (just think what Crosby's jazz timings might have done to enhance the
already fascinatingly oblique 'Time Cube' or what Hillman's mandolin might have
brought to the sweet folky 'Stone'). There are many other poor song choices in
the Byrds' canon but the sheer fact that I've had to sit through this song
twice has forced my hand and made me list 'Born To Rock and Roll' at the back
of this book as The Byrds' nadir.
Side two is less of a rollercoaster ride than side
two and by and large the songs and performances aren't bad, just forgettable.
Hillman's [187] Things
Will Be Better' at least sounds like a more focussed band performance
and Clarke especially sounds on firmer footing on the drums (indeed so
different is his playing suddenly that I wonder if it's him...). However the
chance to hear Hillman use all the skills he'd learnt while a member of Stephen
Stills' Manassas back with his former sparring partners is a wasted one: Chris
tackles all the vocals himself and by
the sound of it most of the guitar work too (apart from McGuinn's sinewy lead
that really should have been re-done). Co-written with CSN's long-term drummer
Dallas Taylor, this may in fact be a Manassas backing track with just a few
Byrds overdubs - that's how it sounds anyway. If this is one of the long lost
songs kicked off the second Manassas album 'Down The Road' at the last minute
(Atlantic boss Ahmet Ertegun wanted more 'Stills' and less 'Manassas' on the
record and killed the band off in the process) then it's removal was a good
one: just the year before Hillman had been on top form with songs like 'Lies'
and 'So Many Times' - this slice of pointless optimism just sounds like every
uninspired Hillman solo song to come.
[188] 'Cowgirl In The Sand' places The Byrds firmly back in folky
mode - but it's a strange kind of folk
where instead of making obscure lines by 'poets' like Dylan accessible with
harmony, the band simply make obscure lines by 'poet' Neil Young sound cosy.
Not with-standing the fact that Neil cut the song like this too in concert
during his acoustic gigs, the difference between the Byrds' version and Crazy
Horse's original is striking: Young sounds furious, demented even, with a lyric
that he wrote in bed with a 103 degree fever sounding both pained and sharp, a
sub-conscious rap on the fact that an exciting new romance with an exciting new
person might be more trouble than it's worth. The Byrds just sound like a
sleepy good-time little 'ol' country band, re-telling a story that's so old
it's being told by rote nowadays and no longer has any sense of expression. You
can kind of see what Crosby meant - by giving Gene a song that sounded roughly
like his own to sing and helping an 'old friend' having problems he no doubt
felt he was 'killing two Byrds with one stone' as it were. But, truly, it's
like asking The Beatles to cover 'Satisfaction' when they reunited in the 1990s
or getting Pink Floyd to do 'Eight Miles High' at 'Live 8' (actually I'd have
paid good money to see both of those...) Ok then, how about this is - it's like
getting the reformed 1986 mark Monkees to cover Paul Revere and the Raiders'
American hit 'Kicks' (this really happened, folks). However Clark's lyrics are
poetry of a quite different kind - while far from straightforward all his lines
mean something and he'd never write a line as open to interpretation as 'hello
Ruby in the dust, has your band begun to rust?' Clark struggles but gamely
carries on, adding two lots of nice harmonica puffing and a particularly fatherly
lyric that's as 'straight' and as devoid from emotion as he can manage.
Crosby's harmony is much better though - arguably if he wanted this song on the
album this badly he should have been the one sing ing it but it's hard to work
out why this cover is here at all. A false ending, which tacks another 30
seconds of instrumental on the end for no apparent reason, is a curious end to
a curious cover.
[189] 'Long Live The King' is an extraordinary song. Crosby has had
rather a quiet time of it lately - after releasing the first Crosby-Nash album
and his solo debut 'If Only I Could Remember My name' in quick succession in
1971, he seems to have sat out most of 1972. Fans of the time would no doubt be
expecting more of the same: glossy soaring harmonies, a bit of politics, lots
about love, a lot of daring and a soupcon of rule-breaking. Instead they get
perhaps the most straightforward Crosby song since before his time as a Byrd, a
two minute ramble about how everyone in power will come a cropper one day. Fra
from being another 'Long Time Gone' or 'Almost Cut My hair', though, this song
ends up a nursery rhyme ('Ooh just like Humpty Dumpty now the king has fallen
down!' while more Crosby's yell 'all the king's horses...' On paper this song
has so much promise: Crosby sings about overthrowing old dated institutions
several centuries past their sell-by-date and even makes a stab at how the king
is really himself: with similarly mixed feelings to Gene Crosby reflects on his
Byrd eras, his ego being stroked by people telling him he's a star while his
head is an 'empty space' and he ends up betraying his colleagues. Unfortunately
in practice this song is a mess: an angry rant that does indeed break all the
conventional songwriting rules but not to any great effect - there's no chorus
to hang this song on, no instrumental break, lots of out of tune guitars and
what should be a huge climax at the end just sounds like the song collapsing in
on itself. If this was a CSN or even a solo album this recording would never
have been allowed out without being re-done (and once again why cut this song
with The Byrds and then fail to use most of them - this sounds suspiciously
like another solo track to me). The Byrds deserved better - this is the start
of a long slow decline in Crosby's songwriting that will stretch all the way to
his recovery from drugs at the end of the 1980s (though thankfully with more
than a few classics still to come in the interim). Ironically titled 'Long Live
The King!', never has Crosby sounded more like 'falling down'.
Everything said for Hillman's last song 'Things Will
Be Better' can also be said for [190] 'Borrowing Time'. This time the Manassas
collaborator is Joe Lala and the song has a slightly more Latin feel to it, but
it still sounds like a Manassas or a solo cut with no real Byrd input. The song
is upbeat and bouncy but doesn't really have much to say other than what a nice
time the narrator's having. There's a neat middle eight when he tries to
comfort a crying partner (suddenly shifting to the minor key on the line 'why
do you worry? Why do you cry?'), but the narrator isn't listening for an
answer, he's too busy going back to tell us what a swell time he's having. Fine
if you've got a whole 40 minutes of miserable singer-songwriter angst that
needs propping up with a bit of jolliity - but why include such a slight song
(that only just reached two minutes) on such a crucial album intended to be
delivered in the public eye? Perhaps the band should have borrowed some time
themselves and made this song both longer and better.
I'm on record elsewhere on this site as saying that
Crosby's song [191] 'Laughing'
may well be the single greatest song in the universe: the narrator keeps
thinking he's found the answer to life's problems but finds in turn that he is
mistaken, caught out by shadows, reflections and ultimately the sound of a
child laughing in the sun. The version heard on 'Id' Swear There Was Somebody
There' (1971) is the perfect example of a band fully in synch with each other
and with each member making the most of their talents - even if the band was a
rogue one assembled from various members of the CSN., Grateful Dead and
Jefferson Airplane families plus Joni Mitchell. Despite sharing identical
lyrics and melodies and running for a similar amount of time (The Byrds'
version lasts 5:39 and Crosby's 5:29) the two couldn't be more different
listening experiences. The song should be light as a feather - the Byrds sound
as if they're playing with boxing gloves on. Crosby's voice should float and
soar - here it drops like a stone. The stop-start sections should come with a
sense of realisation and etherealness - instead they sound like. every. note.
comes. with. full. stops. after. it. (for. no. apparent. reason). If ever you
wanted to hear how a poor band performance can scupper even the greatest of
songs then you need look no further: The Byrds are woefully horribly miscast on
a song that sounds as alien to them as Crosby would have sounded on the
all-country 'Sweethearts Of The Rodeo'. If I didn't know my song dates better
I'd have assumed the Byrds version came first - an example of a song that had
to get bashed and boshed into shape before becoming the beautiful vessel CSN
fans adore. Somehow the knowledge that Crosby got this track spot-on first and
re-recorded the band version two full years later makes the pain worse somehow.
Sometimes good motives just aren't enough - someone really should have stepped
in and said 'hang on a minute - don't you think you've missed the point, guys?'
The album then ends equally limply on a second Neil
Young song, [192] 'See The
Sky About To Rain'. Whilst better suited to the Byrds than 'Cowgirl',
with Gene much happier on a song of happiness disguised as misery much closer
to his own style, you still have to question why The Byrds are recording an
album so alien to their natural sound (in any era). The Byrds rarely sounded
miserable, even when they were - by contrast the whole point of this song is
that Neil's fans know he's 'playing' (if he really wanted to sound miserable
the sky would be raining). The song sounds well suited to Neil's suite of
gloomy songs from his 1974 work 'On The Beach' (where believe it or not this is
the happiest song there!) - here it just sounds odd as the last track in the
Byrds' official canon (depending on whether or not you count the 1990
recordings with just McGuinn, Crosby and
Hillman), a warning message of impending disaster that never quite arrives, even
with another false ending not there on the original. Once again it's quite hard
to tell what the original Byrds actually do on this song with the exception of
Clark and Crosby and compared to CSNY their vocals really don't mix as well as
they once had. Yes it's an ok performance of a fairly good song - but it's not
the best of either. Once again the question is why record this track at all
instead of something more suited to the band.
'The Byrds', then, is an uncomfortable blot on an
admittedly rather patchy discography, but at least in the past when The Byrds
were struggling for a 'new' sound you could forgive them because they found
that sound eventually and used it as a stepping stone to something greater ('Dr
Byrds and Mr Hyde' and 'The Ballad Of Easy Rider' are mixed LPs, but as the
best on them points the way ahead to 'Untitled' I'll forgive them the lesser
songs quite happily). We don't have that with this reunion record, which ended
up leaving an even sourer taste and puzzled feeling in the mouths and hearts of
Byrds collectors than when the original line-up went up in smoke across
1966-68. The tragedy is that, had the band done this album properly (i.e. with
time to write all news songs, no cover versions and with all five playing on
every single song) then this project could really have been something: The
Byrds never did get the chance to grow like so many other bands did what with
all that hiring-and-firing going on and the chance to hear all five members
return to their glory days but in a slightly calmer, kinder environment should
have made for the greatest single Byrds album. Instead, it's the worst with
only Gene Clark coming out of this project with his head held high - yes
'Byrdmaniax' was pretty ropey too but at least you could tell what the band
were trying (and failing) to do (making songs sound very big with orchestras)
and yes in truth I find parts of 'Sweethearts Of The Rodeo' much harder to
listen to (mainly the bits that mis-cast McGuinn as an all-American cowboy). But 'The Byrds' is somehow worse partly
because of expectation, because the whole scheme seems pointless most of the
ideas on this record were never going to work - and already hadn't in the case
of the revived 'Born To Rock and Roll') and partly because Gene Clark showed just
how daring, inventive, bold and yet characteristic of the first band this
reunion record could have been. The Byrds arrived with one of the biggest bangs
in music (certainly folk-rock); they go out with an album that doesn't even
have enough life in it for a whimper.
A Now Complete Link Of Byrd Articles Available To Read At
Alan’s Album Archives:
'Mr Tambourine Man' (1965) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/news-views-and-music-issue-134-byrds-mr.html
'Mr Tambourine Man' (1965) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/news-views-and-music-issue-134-byrds-mr.html
‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ (1965)
http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2017/03/the-byrds-turn-turn-turn-1965.html
'(5D) Fifth Dimension' (1966) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2009/11/news-views-and-music-issue-49-byrds-5d.html
'(5D) Fifth Dimension' (1966) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2009/11/news-views-and-music-issue-49-byrds-5d.html
'Younger Than Yesterday' (1967) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/news-views-and-music-issue-108-byrds.html
'The Nototious Byrd Brothers' (1968) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-20-byrds-notorious-byrd-brothers.html
'Sweethearts Of The Rodeo' (1968) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/the-byrds-sweetheart-of-rodeo-1968.html
'Dr Byrds and Mr Hyde' (1969) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2010/07/news-viedws-and-music-issue-68-byrds-dr.html
‘The Ballad Of Easy Rider’ (1969) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/the-byrds-ballad-of-easy-rider-1969.html
'Untitled' (1970) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2008/07/review-38-byrds-untitled-1970.html
'Byrdmaniax' (1971) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-byrds-byrdmaniax-1971-album-review.html
‘Farther Along’ (1972) http://www.alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/the-byrds-farther-along-1972.html
'The Byrds' (1973) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/the-byrds-1973.html
Surviving TV Appearances http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/the-byrds-surviving-tv-appearance-1965.html
Unreleased Songs http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/the-byrds-unreleased-songs-1965-72.html
Non-Album Songs
(1964-1990) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/the-byrds-non-album-songs-1964-90.html
A Guide To Pre-Fame Byrds
Recordings http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/the-byrds-pre-fame-recordings-in.html
Solo/Live/Compilation
Albums Part One (1964-1972) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/the-byrds-sololivecompilation-albums.html
Solo/Live/Compilation
Albums Part Two (1973-1977) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/the-byrds-sololivecompilation-albums.html
Solo/Live/Compilation Albums Part Three (1978-1991) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/the-byrds-sololivecompilation-albums_9.html
Solo/Live/Compilation Albums Part Three (1978-1991) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/the-byrds-sololivecompilation-albums_9.html
Solo/Live/Compilation
Albums Part Four (1992-2013) http://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/the-byrds-sololivecompilation-albums_16.html
Essay: Why This Band Were Made For Turn! Turn! Turn!ing https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2018/01/byrds-essay-why-this-band-were-made-for.html
Essay: Why This Band Were Made For Turn! Turn! Turn!ing https://alansalbumarchives.blogspot.co.uk/2018/01/byrds-essay-why-this-band-were-made-for.html
