The Byrds
Byrds

David Crosby is a bit annoyed. The success achieved with the supergroup CSN&Y seemed, in 1972, destined not to continue, and what was left at that time was an album, released shortly before, together with only Graham Nash. Chris Hillman realized, also in that year, that the iron that the Manassas had rightly struck while hot, had thus cooled and the ideas, due to intense production, were running out. It was time to seek new energy and new incentives, although still "physically" forced to stay on tour with the Manassas.

Gene Clark, on the other hand, was afraid of flying and this inevitably distanced him from the jet set, from the world that matters. Of course, he also has other problems, and to face them and, who knows, maybe even heal from them, the idea of staying away from that stressful dimension could have been a really good one. Yet holding back "for unsolvable problems and for precautionary purposes" forced him to find himself in some financial difficulty. And then do you want to compare returning to the big audience, after a series of excellent if not magnificent albums, but of little success?

Michael Clarke, then, has never written a piece. He joined the Flying Burrito Brothers when the band had already been abandoned by Gram Parsons and Chris "ideal partner" Hillman. Now Michael was also fed up... But to be unemployed, him, the drummer of the Byrds?

But the one with the most damp gunpowder was the one who was recognized as the owner of that wonderful monicker and, left alone, spent it on works mostly neither successful nor valuable. Interminable tours to make money, to promote records that the audience hadn't bought. Then, that decision, made in light of much evidence: that new line-up, "those Byrds" no longer worked even for him, and had to be disbanded. If only they could turn back time, if only they could take flight from where it started!

David Geffen, meanwhile, was not part of the Byrds, but of the cunning ones. Owner of Asylum at the time, he wanted to snatch what was left of the Byrds, namely McGuinn and the monicker, from Columbia for a few dollars, since Columbia had made little to no money with the Byrds. Geffen's reasons? Given that a bad atmosphere was brewing in CSN&Y’s camp, and given that the market favored supergroups, who could better align with good Crosby than Hillman, Clarke, and Jim/Roger "despot" McGuinn?

"Byrds" is a test-tube project, and deformed, like all those mega projects where inspiration does not dominate in the kitchen, but the scepter is firmly in the hands of marketing research. Given the right media resonance given to the fantastic reunion, the "Byrds" project receives more than decent acceptance from the audience. But the juice isn’t there, just as there isn’t a band behind that name on the cover.

McGuinn's tracks derive, as was the case for "(Untitled)" and for "Byrdmaniax," from the usual music for the Broadway show "Gene Tryp," which never saw the light; Hillman brings two Manassas-style pieces written for Manassas, one of which is even co-written with the Manassas, specifically, the drummer. Crosby then adds two minor pieces... All together, in the series "let's do an outing and declare our inferiority to the world," they insert two pieces from what was once "the rival" (but only of McGuinn), namely Neil Young, the leader of the "rival band." Had they at least been Bob Dylan's, as per tradition for the "real" Byrds...

"Sweet Mary" by Roger is a tedious mix between a Simon & Garfunkel folk style and a medieval traditional; "Born To Rock&Roll" is straight out of a musical, complete with a dance, perfect for a hypothetical finale amidst applause and bows. Lovely, rhythmic, and melodic at just the right point. Hillman proposes the powerpop "Things We Do Better," very radio-friendly, if not downright cunning, and the playful but insignificant "Borrowing Time."

Crosby pitches the half blues half powerpop "Long Live The King," not at all convincing, and "Laughing," decidedly the lesser sibling of many dignified representatives of his visionary psychedelia. David's dreamy touch is very present, recognizable among a thousand others, but inspiration is absent. One limits themselves to being slightly impressed by certain pauses, some good strumming, by an ending that seems to lean toward soul... But to ears trained in Crosbylogy, it's clear from the start that we are not in the presence of the most worthy specimen.

Neil Young gives us the famous "Cowgirl In The Sand," performed quite perfectly, and "(See The Sky) About To Rain," and there, if you'll allow me, I want to express my compliments to the Byrds for those splendid "downpours" of acoustic guitar (crunchy guitars: C-rock?) and particularly to McGuinn for the splendid jingle jangle at the end. Who remains? Of course, Gene Clark. I don't want to fail the other three authors, but neither do I dare to promote them: one does not reunite with ambitions of a stratospheric level to place leftovers, to put loose change on the table, to empty their pockets of those annoying lice. One does not reach this album a month after releasing another, thus short on ideas (Crosby), or while still touring with no time to write new things nor think about your new project (Hillman and McGuinn). Gene Clark, instead, and although he too had recently given a lot in the masterpiece "White Light," places two pearls of such extent that the others can only sit and take notes on how to have self-respect. "Full Circle Song" was already found on "Roadmaster" in Europe, an album that was released against Clark's will for the old continent. Gene’s lyricism "flies" on a country and acoustic musical accompaniment. "Changing Heart" is a rearranged former beat episode. Let's try together to imagine its melody with the electric accompaniment that distinguished the early Byrds...

The most beautiful and the least renowned, the least successful commercially and the most talented, the sweetest and the one with the most personal problems. The coolest and the one who lived worse (and who died first, and with this making the necessary warding gestures and wishing a long, long life to the three survivors). The best frontman, capable, as Hillman explicitly said, of standing on stage with his tambourine for half an hour, and without any need for a band, enchanting the crowd, captivating them with his strategic pose and delightful voice. The most of all, and also the most incapable of managing his emotions, of finding the right balances.

Gene Clark. Forced once again by failure. But that time, the birds that didn’t take flight were his companions.