Some Just Shapeless Forms

Let's bring this summer's psychedelic party across the water to my home turf.  Easily one of the earliest and most musically adventurous journeys into the realm of otherworldliness.  Written mostly by Gene Clark, with one great line of lyrics provided by David Crosby and IMHO the most amazing guitar work ever committed to vinyl thanks to Roger McGuinn - of course I am referring to Eight Miles High.  Sadly this was to be the Byrds last venture into the US top twenty.

Gene Clark would be gone before the song was released but his stamp is all over the place in the vocal melody and lyrics.   Banned by some radio stations due to its supposed drug influences, a close listen to the lyrics tell me that it is about so much more.  I see it as a poetic reflection on the loneliness of travel through the prism of an outsider.   The novel musical arrangement shows that The Byrds were ahead of the game.  Released in March of 1966, this single beat the Beatles to the psychedelic punch of Revolver by six months.

From Chris Hillman's opening leaping bass line and Crosby's chugging rhythm guitar rise that unmistakable McGuinn twelve string frenzy - all free form jazz and sounding like nothing before (or after).  Every time I hear those gorgeous three part vocal harmonies they put a lump in my throat.

Rain gray town
Known for its sound
In places, small faces abound

Some Are Bound to Glory

In 1973 there was a short lived reunion of all five original Byrds.   The one LP they produced never registered on my radar. The story goes that each of the songwriting Byrds (Crosby, McGuinn, Clark, and Hillman) withheld their best materials for their own solo projects. Drummer Michael Clarke brought along two Neil Young songs.

A few years ago I chanced upon their cover of an at-that-point unrecorded Neil Young nugget.  (See the Sky) About to Rain is a miraculous song and this performance captures Neil's sense of loss and yet also succeeds as a Byrd's number.  When the wall of chiming guitars and mandolin enters at 2:40 the bliss becomes heavenly.

See the sky about to rain,
broken clouds and rain.
Locomotive, pull the train,
whistle blowing
through my brain.
Signals curling on an open plain,
rolling down the track again.

But then she jumps off the edge, me holding on

My trip through the sonic wonderland of the Byrds comes to an end today with a single from very late in their career.  By the time of 1970's "Untitled" Roger McGuinn was trucking along as the only original member, still putting out new LPs every ten months or so.  The Byrds sound of old was long gone with the exception of this one amazing epic song.  Chestnut Mare was a left over from the aborted county rock musical Gene Tryp.  A modern day retelling of Peer Gynt, the few nuggets that survive are easily the best music the late period Byrds would produce.  Strangely enough this was a big hit single in the UK, but totally ignored in the US.   What with its odd lyrics referring to the wild mare as the object of an all consuming quest, it might have been just too odd for domestic consumption.  But McGuinn recaptured that classic Byrds sound, augmented by white lightning guitar runs by lead guitarist Clarence White and a middle section so lovely and antique that it could have come from a 16th century madrigal.   For me the goosebumps appear early and often, with the his voice climbing at the end of the chorus

and we'll be friends for life
she'll be just like a wife

Scientific Delerium Madness

It is only fair that a Roger McGuinn tune should be added to the quartet of Byrdsongs that have appeared here over the last week.   Fifth Dimension nails the Dylan sound with its loping rhythm and penetrating lyrics.  McGuinn would turn out to be laziest of the Byrds great songwriters, but when he was on - as he is here - he was as good as it gets.  Waynenet  has a great a blog post about this song so go there and read his words of wisdom.   I learned from his post that none other than Van Dyke Parks plays the organ on this recording!  I certainly never knew that.

Oh how is it
That I could come out to you
And be still floatin'
And never hit bottom
But keep falling through
Just relaxing and paying attention

Joy of Man's Desiring

Although the first two Byrd's LPs are known for their famous cover versions - Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man and Pete Seeger's Turn! Turn! Turn! - the band had a first class songwriter/singer with Gene Clark.   His love of the Beatles sound turns up in many of his songs, but never in a derivative way.  He infused their sonic soundscaps with the cadences of Lennon/McCartney yet always allowing the Byrds own unique vision to come through with three part harmonies and jangly 12-string guitar.  Chris Hillman has been quoted as saying "He was the songwriter. He had the "gift" that none of the rest of us had developed yet."  He would be sorely missed after Eight Miles High except for the fact that Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, and Chris Hillman were just beginning to catch up as top notch songwriters on their own.  Regardless, he left a shining legacy with his fine work with them before departing. 

Lost on the B-side of the Turn! Turn! Turn! single is one of his most classic tunes, She Don't Care About Time.  My spine is tingling right now while listening to it.

She'll always be there, my love don't care about time.

Shut the door

I have nothing against arrogant pricks per se, although there is ample evidence that David Crosby fits that description to a tee.   But during his tenure in the Byrds he wrote some of the most gorgeous jangle pop ballads ever.  And not only could he construct a pretty melody but he often was a fine lyricist.   In fact - when he was "on" - his perceptions were insightful.   Perhaps the best example is his ode to broken hearts, Everybody's Been Burned from 1967's "Younger Than Yesterday".  His words of wisdom, coming at the very end of the song, shows him to be quite the optimist.   And I like that in a person.   Even if he is an arrogant prick.

I know all too well
How to turn, how to run
How to hide behind
A bitter wall of blue
But you die inside
If you choose to hide
So I guess instead, I'll love you...

It Took Me Twenty Years

What better way to make up for my inexcusable omission of the Byrds in this blog than to have two posts in a row?  From their 1968 masterpiece "Notorious Byrd Brothers" here is a lovely tune by bassist Chris Hillman and guitarist Roger McGuinn, written in the odd meter (for pop music) of 5/4.  "Get To You" is chock full of odd Lesley Speaker phased-vocals and a melody that just gets lovelier as it goes.  By this point Mr. Hillman was supplying about a third of the songs on the LP, matching that provided by the recently departed David Crosby.   One of pop music's great "if only" moments would have been to see Crosby stay in the band long enough to produce another LP.   The sheer variety of musical styles on this album is amazing.  But it was not meant to be, as the Byrds went country on the next release and soon thereafter Chris left, along with drummer Michael Clarke and suddenly the original Byrds were no more.

I Should Have Learned to Duck

This is one of those posts where I am not sure what to say, other than that I feel the need to share a song that I consider the high point of the career of a band that I have unbelievably ignored in previous posts.   I was very late discovering the wonders of The Byrds, other than a few of their early  12-string hits such as "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn Turn Turn".   My brother sent me a CD containing all of their LPs (excluding their short-lived reunion), and within a few days I was completely transfixed by the quality and diversity of their 60s output.  The magic exudes from those first five LPs and assorted singles that were produced by the original nucleus of the group. They were blessed with four fine singers, each with a real talent for songwriting, and some amazing instrumental chops to boot.   

By mid 1967 they had not had a top 40 hit since "My Back Pages" in March of the previous year.  Gene Clark was long gone, and David Crosby was months away from departing the group.  And yet the quality of their output was still on an upward path.   Prior to the release of "The Notorious Byrds Brothers" in early 1968, their fifth LP and last of their great masterworks,  they produced a single that to my ears was a pinnacle of 60s pop/rock.   It was clearly radio friendly, with amazing chiming guitar lines, gorgeous harmonies, an instrumental break capped by trumpet volleys, and one of Mr. Crosby's finest melodies.    "Lady Friend" was a culmination of the Byrds sound and deserved a lofty status in their canon.  But like a lot of other great music, it was lost in the sea of other great tunes in mid-67 and sank like a stone on the charts.    Because of internal struggles in the band it was omitted from the following LP, and for years was not available other than on an import "best of" LP.

Here it comes, it looks just like the last wave I drowned in.
Here it comes, and I'm so far from shore.
She's going to go, and take her trinkets.
And I will have to live without her and survive