The Byrds' The Notorious Byrd Brothers

Ric Menck

• Publisher: Continuum
• Year: 2007
• ISBN:
  9781441106759
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Rock Music

By the time Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Chris Hillman, and Michael Clarke entered the studio to begin work on this album, they were basically falling apart at the seams. "Ladyfriend", a song written by Crosby, had just failed miserably as a chart single despite the fact that he lobbied hard to get it released. This - coupled with the fact that he made what the rest of the band considered an embarrassing political speech onstage during their set at the Monterey Pop Festival, and then sat in with rivals the Buffalo Springfield the following day - pushed McGuinn and Hillman in particular to the limits of their patience. Then, for the Notorious sessions, Crosby presented a song called "Triad", written about a threesome, and although McGuinn and Hillman reluctantly agreed to record it, they later decided to place a less controversial Goffin & King pop number called "Goin' Back" on the album instead. Crosby declared the song banal and refused to sing on it. A few too many studio flare-ups later, McGuinn and Hillman finally screeched up into the Hollywood Hills in their Jaguars and fired Crosby on the spot. Also brooding during this period was drummer Michael Clarke, who had always borne the brunt of the other band members' rage while recording. He was by far the least accomplished member of the band musically, and when they suggested bringing in a studio drummer to embellish some tracks (Jim Gordon, later of Derek & the Dominos fame), he finally declared he'd had enough and moved to Hawaii to get away from the music scene altogether. So, McGuinn and Hillman were left to cobble together an album with the help of producer Gary Usher (known for his work with Brian Wilson, the Millenium, Sagittarius and many others). The fact that it turned out to be one of the defining albums of the 60s psychedelic pop experience was either a sheer stroke of luck, or a testament to McGuinn and Hillman's determination to prove that they didn't need Crosby's help to construct their masterpiece.

The Notorious Byrd Brothers Album

Introduction

Initial sessions for the album that turned into The Notorious Byrd Brothers began officially on the last day of July, 1967. The first order of business was to record a song called “Universal Mind Decoder” written by McGuinn and Hillman. The band cut an extended rambling version, but somehow the song didn’t seem completely finished and the recording was ultimately deemed unusable. Next up was Crosby’s “Draft Morning,” probably the greatest song he wrote for the Byrds. The entire performance is perfectly sublime, the Byrds at their absolute peak. Usher came up with the inspired idea to bring in one of his recent discoveries, the Firesign Theater, a weird kind of performance artist troupe. During the most emotionally climactic moment of the recording the Firesigns work their magic by simulating very realistically the sounds and chaos of war. It is an incredibly stimulating aural effect.

The band was back in the studio in mid-August to work on three new Crosby tunes, and I believe this is also the session where Gary Usher introduced the idea of recording a Goffin and King song called “Goin’ Back.” Initially, McGuinn was the only one willing to take a crack at the song. Hillman was undecided, Clarke couldn’t care less either way, and Crosby was dead set against it. Usher suggested they sleep on it and talk later.

“Later” turned out to be August 29, when the band reconvened in studio D to actually try recording the song. Hillman had since warmed to the idea of cutting it, but Crosby definitely hadn’t. He couldn’t understand why they would want to record Brill building pop crap when they could be recording their own material, or, more specifically, his material. He flatly refused to participate. At that moment you could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. All the bad feelings that had been building since Monterey finally welled to the surface and exploded. McGuinn spat across the room that if Crosby didn’t want to participate, he should get the fuck out—and of course, that’s exactly what Crosby did. In a bluster he gathered his hat, and that was the last time anyone saw David Crosby in a recording studio with McGuinn and Hillman until 1973, when David Geffen managed to convince the original Byrds to reunite and make an album for Asylum Records.

In October it became official. McGuinn and Hillman sped up to Crosby’s house in Laurel Canyon to break the news that they no longer wished to work with him. Hillman remembered later that Crosby was waiting for them in the doorway, that he looked mellow and happy, and that he commented on how cool their cars sounded echoing through the canyon. Of course, the mood changed drastically when McGuinn and Hillman announced they no longer wanted him in the band. He looked completely shattered and commented that he thought they could still make beautiful music together. The truth is, Crosby must have known better and he must have sensed the end was coming for quite some time. With a heavy heart he accepted his dismissal, as well as a buyout, which he used to buy a yacht and sail to Florida. There he met Joni Mitchell, whose career he began to help navigate.

* * *

As news that Crosby had been fired spread throughout the music scene, it must have seemed to the outside world that this was finally the end of the Byrds. It wasn’t. Perhaps out of the desire to prove they didn’t need Crosby, McGuinn and Hillman regrouped with Usher and a bevy of studio musicians and successfully managed to complete the album just before Christmas. Clarke hadn’t been cutting it on recent sessions, so rather than struggle Usher called in Jim Gordon and Hal Blaine to play drums. Usher also relied heavily on his friend Curt Boettcher, who assumed the crucial roll of singing Crosby’s high harmony parts. Boettcher didn’t really enjoy the experience of working with the Byrds. He found McGuinn to be especially standoffish. Clarence White was called back in to play more of his amazing country style guitar. By then Clarence was one of the most popular session guitarists in Los Angeles, but he held a special place in his heart for the Byrds. Just over a year later White would officially join the Byrds and transform their stolid live act into an entirely more exciting proposition. Strangest of all, Gene Clark rejoined the Byrds for a short period during the recording of The Notorious Byrd Brothers. Clark’s solo album had bombed and he was bumming around Los Angeles with nothing much to do. To McGuinn and Hillman it seemed a good idea to get him back in the Byrds, especially since Crosby wasn’t there. News that Clark had returned spread like wildfire among the hipsters on the Sunset Strip, but before anyone could bat an eyelash he was gone, once more the victim of severe nervous anxiety.

For years there has been some conjecture as to whether Gene Clark actually appears on The Notorious Byrd Brothers. According to session files, Clark was there for at least a couple of the songs, and John Noreen of the Rose Garden confirms this by insisting that he watched Clark sing a harmony vocal for “Goin’ Back.” McGuinn can’t actually remember if Clark was there, but sees no reason why it couldn’t have happened, considering they were all hanging out together again. I’ve personally listened to “Goin’ Back” thousands of times and just can’t tell if Clark’s on there or not. If he is, Usher has his voice buried deep down in the mix.

The underground buzz started by Younger Than Yesterday solidified when The Notorious Byrd Brothers was released. Sandy Pearlman, who would go on to produce Blue Oyster Cult and the Clash, wrote an especially interesting piece in Crawdaddy, comparing the Byrds work to mathematical and metaphysical properties. There was also a glowing review in Rolling Stone. Unfortunately “Goin’ Back” made no real impression on the singles charts, but the Byrds had already begun making the transition from a singles band to one that concentrated on making album statements.

And The Notorious Byrd Brothers is definitely the original lineup’s finest and most cohesive album statement. Despite the traumatic conditions under which it was constructed, the album evolved into a seamless piece of artistic invention, one that the Byrds had been working toward since Gene Clark, Roger McGuinn and David Crosby decided to form the band in the stairwell at the Troubadour back in 1964. It’s too bad all of them weren’t still around to bask in the glow of such a monumental artistic achievement.

The Notorious Byrd Brothers Side One

Artificial Energy (McGuinn/Hillman/Clarke)

Recorded December 5-6,1967

Produced by Gary Usher

Engineered by Roy Halee and Don Thompson

Recorded at Columbia Studios, Hollywood, CA

Roger McGuinn - Guitars/Vocals

Chris Hillman - Bass/Vocals

Michael Clarke - Drums

Barry Goldberg - Organ

Horn overdubs by:

Gary Weber

Roy Caron

Jay Migliori

Virgil Fums

Richard Hyde

As an album opener, “Artificial Energy” is a fantastic slap in the face. Bursting out of the speakers, trumpets blaring, bass throbbing, drums pumping, it’s feels like one of the hardest rockin’ tracks the Byrds ever recorded. It’s obvious immediately the guys have been listening closely to the Beatles (as usual). The song’s jagged, soul-inflected rhythmic approach is distinctly reminiscent of “Taxman,” the opening cut on Revolver.

It was Chris Hillman’s idea to write a song about speed, although Michael Clarke came up with the tide and, uncharacteristically, was given a share of the writer’s credit. McGuinn and Hillman wrote the music together, and since it was the last track completed for the album, David Crosby was not involved. Due to lack of confidence on Michael Clarke’s part, Usher had been using either Jim Gordon or Hal Blaine, two of the finest session drummers in Los Angeles, but Clarke was back for “Artificial Energy,” and he never sounded better.

I’m not sure of the exact reason Gary Usher chose “Artificial Energy” as the first track on The Notorious Byrd Brothers, but it sure sounds like that’s exactly where it belongs. A few swift cracks of the snare drum and the arrangement instantly springs to life. It feels as if the band are so charged up they can hardly wait to count the song off and go. The instrumental approach is hard and aggressive, and stylistically it relates to the recently released “Lady Friend” in that a horn section is featured. But while “Lady Friend” comes off sounding all strident and regal, “Artificial Energy” has a darker edge. This is mostly due to the song’s lyrical imagery, which deals with the horrors of amphetamine use. Strangely, whereas their 1966 single “Eight Miles High” was banned because it supposedly contained overt drug references, no one batted an eyelash when the Byrds actually did write an honest-to-God drug song.

In “Artificial Energy” the song’s protagonist takes his “ticket to ride” (okay, there’s a drug reference and a Beatles reference all rolled into one), and sits alone waiting for it to take effect. Slowly he feels an “artificial energy” welling up inside, but as the drug takes hold something horrible happens. Instead of achieving some kind of enlightenment, our hero ends up losing control and, in the song’s stark final imagery, kills a homosexual and winds up being thrown in jail.

This is much more sinister than anything the Byrds had ever written before, and what a way to start the album! The first time I heard it I was almost speechless, and even though the record segues into the next song immediately, I listened to “Artificial Energy” four or five times before I could actually move past it. I was used to (and was expecting) a jangly sound from the Byrds, with McGuinn’s twelve-string and the band’s majestic vocal harmonies pushed to the fore. “Artificial Energy” is nothing like that, and the darker lyrical themes and the inclusion of a horn section aren’t the only reasons. There’s something about the sound of the vocals that is incredibly strange, and the horn section actually undulates. According to McGuinn, the band were trying for a much harder stylistic approach, and to facilitate that Gary Usher had rented a piece of gear that when manipulated manually would alter the sound of whatever was running through it. They fed the vocals through the device first, thinking it might help toughen them up a bit, and when that worked they put the horns through it as well. McGuinn commented later, “The horn players were so straight they sounded like the Harry James Big Band. We had to do something to make them swing.” The album is full of wonderful experimental electronic effects. Gary Usher uses spatial panning (phasing) judiciously, and he often puts instruments or vocals (or both) through a Leslie organ speaker, which has a rotating fanlike device that causes everything running through it to sound as though it’s swirling in and out of focus. On “Artificial Energy” every electronic effect is employed to complete perfection. They give the recording the feeling it’s buzzing or vibrating, which is just perfect for a song written about amphetamine.

By employing unusual sounding electronic effects Usher and the Byrds were knowingly working to create a more contemporary and maybe even futuristic sounding record, and it’s doubtful anyone who heard The Notorious Byrd Brothers when it was released (January 4, 1968) didn’t notice. From the very first few notes you get the feeling you’re hearing something different. The arrangements are often incredibly dense, but the recordings sound expansive. The Byrds had gotten much better at making records over the course of their career, but much of the sonic improvement on The Notorious Byrd Brothers is due to Gary Usher. He was not only one of the most creative record producers in Los Angeles during the mid to late 60s, but he also employed some of the best recording engineers as his assistants. For The Notorious Byrd Brothers project Usher brought in the inimitable Roy Halee and second engineer Don Thompson, both of whom he’d met while working on sessions for Simon & Garfunkel’s Bookends album in New York. Halee was responsible for the idea of hooking two eight-track recording machines together so that Usher would have the capability to record on sixteen tracks. That is the reason Notorious sounds so expansive. It was one of the first truly “high fidelity” pop records recorded in Los Angeles during the 60s.

For any listener who may have doubted the Byrds’ ability to make an incredible album in light of all the personal trials and tribulations they were going though, “Artificial Energy” immediately served notice that the Byrds may have been bloodied, but they were nowhere near down for the count.

* * *

As an interesting aside, my band Velvet Crush actually had the opportunity to play “Artificial Energy” for Roger McGuinn during the early 90s, albeit under slightly unusual circumstances.

During the early days of Velvet Crush we played a lot in New York City, and eventually became friends with Ed and Melani Rogers, two huge music fans we noticed regularly attending our shows. As it turned out, Melani had an extensive background working in the music industry, and was employed at Arista Records when McGuinn was signed to the label as a solo artist. As a consequence, the two became friends. Melani eventually moved from Arista over to Epic/Sony Records, which happened to be the label handling Velvet Crush’s 1994 release, Teenage Symphonies to God, and this connection helped further solidify our personal relationship. When Ed and Melani decided they wanted to do something special for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, they arranged a party at a small club and convinced McGuinn to perform a solo set, then let Velvet Crush back him up on a set of classic Byrds songs. You can’t imagine how excited we were about this, and when McGuinn sent us a list of songs he wanted to perform, we went beyond the call of duty and learned a few of our own personal Byrds favorites thinking maybe we could persuade him into playing one or two of those as well. “Artificial Energy” was one that I chose.

Come the day of rehearsal before the show, we arrived before McGuinn, set up our gear and anxiously waited for the great man to appear. In anticipation we struck up the beginning of “Artificial Energy,” and just when we were hitting the back end of the first verse, the door opened and Ed, Melani, McGuinn and his wife, Camilla, all walked in smiling. They motioned for us to continue, so we crashed through the rest of the song, and by the end I was feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. Would he like it? Would he maybe want to try playing it with us? As the sound faded from the room they all politely applauded, and McGuinn (completely matter of factly) mentioned that he really liked the song and asked if it was one of our own. There was a moment of silence while the three of us in Velvet Crush quizzically looked at one another, not knowing whether he was serious or not. I believe I was the one who finally mentioned that it was actually our version of “Artificial Energy,” the first song on The Notorious Byrds Brothers. McGuinn looked puzzled and asked, “Did I write that one?” Needless to say, we did not play it the following evening.

Both McGuinn’s and Hillman’s attitudes toward “Artificial Energy” seem to have become fairly ambivalent in recent years. Perhaps this has to do with them not wanting to openly acknowledge the darker side of their past. There’s also the possibility that they might not regard it as one of their finest musical compositions. McGuinn seemed rankled in interviews talking about how they needed to employ electronic effects on the track, as if the song didn’t actually hold up on its own.

Goin’ Back (Goffin/King)

Recorded on October 9, 11 & 16, 1967

Produced by Gary Usher

Engineered by Roy Halee and Don Thompson

Recorded at Columbia Studios, Hollywood, CA

Roger McGuinn - Guitar/Vocals

Chris Hillman - Bass/Vocals

with:

Jim Gordon - Drums

Orville “Red” Rhodes - Pedal Steel Guitar

Paul Beaver - Moog Synthesizer

Dennis McCarthy - Celeste

James Burton - Guitar

Terry Trotter - Piano

Lester Harris - Cello

Victor Sazer - Violin

Carl West - Violin

Ann Stockton - Harp

Dennis Faust - Drums/Percussion

As the last dying embers of “Artificial Energy” twist and wriggle from the speakers, the listener is suddenly confronted with a completely different reality. The album’s second track, “Goin’ Back,” feels gentle and easy by comparison— like a walk down a country road on a beautiful autumn day —the polar opposite of what we’ve just heard.

The song was written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King and originally recorded by Dusty Springfield, who released it as a single in Britain not long before the Byrds recorded their version. Usher was introduced to the tune by Roger Gordon, a song runner for Screen Gems (Goffin and King’s publishing company), and initially thought it would be the perfect vehicle for Chad & Jeremy, an English pop vocal duo for whom he had recently produced two brilliant but overlooked albums. The more he though about it, the more Usher realized the British duo had already recorded enough similar sounding material, so he decided to try and get the Byrds to record it instead, but when he presented it to the band all hell broke loose. No one particularly liked the idea of doing the song. Crosby was vehemently against doing it. Begrudgingly, the group attempted to cut a version, but Crosby’s heart obviously wasn’t in it, and the session broke up. A month later they tr...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Contents
• Dedication
• Foreword & Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• The Historical Byrds
• The Notorious Byrd BrothersAlbum
• The Unfinished Recordings
• Epilogue
• More
• Copyright Page