byrdsongs, xxx

Dr. Byrds and Mr. Hyde puts the rock back into the Byrds’ particular brand of country rock. The record is patchy and poorly recorded, with Bob Johnston’s thin, hollowed-out production value perhaps standing as an instance of incipient corporate rock, where craft becomes subordinate to efficient movement down the creative assembly line.  It’s too bad because a slog through the record’s murkiness reveals, here and there, the amazing things that can happen with the interwoven guitar playing of Roger McGuinn and Clarence White.  It seems to me that by now the Byrds were pretty much a live band.  Their studio output from here on out doesn’t match the intensity of what they’re able to do on stage and in the moment.  This is great if you like stretched-out live music.  You’ll love every noodling second of the 15-minute all-instrumental rendition of Eight Miles High.  But those of us who crave the precision, the artistry, and (hopefully) the attention to detail that studio recording affords will be a little leery.  And yet, I come back to McGuinn and White.  Their chemistry is electrifying.  They really seem to relish being on stage together, an old folkie and a blue grass picker, completely simpatico in making rock that sounds huge and isn’t at all diminished by its country overtones.  But having said all this, tonight’s song feels a bit nostalgic.  You’ll never mistake it for pop, but the song has a folk-ish melodic structure that almost gets lost underneath the weight of its cosmic hugeness. The harmonies are reminiscent of an earlier incarnation of the Byrds, and this is the reason it’s one of the latter-day (post-Notorious) songs I turn to most often…