The Byrd who fell to earth
Somehow Gene Clark never looked young, even when “Mr Tambourine Man” was hitting the charts before he had turned 21. Unlike the other members of the Byrds, or of their rival groups breaking through on both sides of the Atlantic in 1965, he didn’t look like a boy. He had a face that seemed to have seen things, a face of premature experience.
We learn a lot about the background to the way he looked in The Byrd Who Flew Alone: The Triumphs and Tragedy of Gene Clark, a two-hour documentary by Jack and Paul Kendall, released on DVD this week, in which the two English film makers talk to just about everyone involved in the story of a great singer-songwriter who didn’t begin to receive proper attention as a solo artist until after his untimely death in 1991. Chris Hillman, Roger McGuinn and David Crosby from the Byrds, the producer Larry Marks, the record company president Jerry Moss, the singer Carla Olson, his wife Carlie, members of his family and many others are among those providing testimony, interspersed with snatches of music from the various phases of his career.
Gene Clark’s face turns out to have been that of a person who grew up in a small community in rural Missouri, in circumstances described by one his brothers as “austere”. He began playing in bands at the age of 14, moved to Los Angeles while still in his teens, joined the New Christy Minstrels, and decamped to the fledgling Byrds in 1964. Just over a year later he was receiving a first royalty cheque. Because he wrote songs that the group recorded as B-sides and album tracks (such as the wonderful “Feel a Whole Lot Better” and “Set You Free This Time”), he earned more money than the other four members. That first cheque was for $47,000. The others got $4,000 each. “The rest of us were still taking buses and walking around LA,” Roger McGuinn remembers, “and he had a little MG. That created a bit of tension.”
The MG was followed by a Porsche and then a very nice maroon vintage Ferrari. And there were other factors. “You take a group of young men, very different young men, give ’em some money, introduce them to drugs… I don’t think there was anything wrong with the fact that we all of a sudden got laid a lot… but the money and the drugs… that’ll do it every time,” says David Crosby, one who knows whereof he speaks.
Clark’s departure from the group and the various chapters of his solo career are dealt with in fascinating detail. I always loved the two Dillard & Clark albums, particularly The Fantastic Expedition, and it was sad to listen to the reasons behind the disintegration of that pioneering project in 1969, followed by many more false starts.
“He had great songs,” Hillman says, “and he sang from the heart. Why didn’t it work? That’s the question.” Chronic indiscipline when under the influence of drink or drugs seems to have been the simple answer. Perhaps the happiest period of his life began in 1970, when he moved out of LA to Mendocino with Carrie McCummings and enjoyed a return to his roots in rural surroundings. It was there that he wrote the songs for the album White Light, produced by Jesse Ed Davis and released in 1971, which I consider to be the highlight of his career: the recording in which his gifts find the best balance and the most sympathetic environment.
Many of his admirers would nominate No Other, the album that followed in 1974, recorded for David Geffen’s Asylum label and produced by Thomas Jefferson Kaye with a huge budget and a cast of thousands. It’s a cult classic, to be sure, and it contains some fine songs that only Clark could have written, but I find it overproduced, overarranged, overplayed, overpackaged — just overwrought in every direction. Its commercial failure more or less put an end to his prospects of once again experiencing the success he had all too briefly known with the Byrds.
He wasn’t entirely finished. I wouldn’t be without the album he made with Olson, called So Rebellious a Lover, released the year after his death and containing two real classics: his own “Gypsy Rider” (“Crank her over once again / Put your face into the wind / Find another road where you’ve never been”) and the most gorgeously compelling version of “Come All You Fair and Tender Ladies” I’ve ever heard. But the life did for him when he was only 46.
There are some sad and illuminating reflections in the course of the film. “I watched him go from an innocent country boy to road-weary and just… tired of it all,” McGuinn says. Marks, who produced his first solo album, says: “You couldn’t help but just feel the energy that Gene put out whenever you were with him. It wasn’t all good. That energy carried some danger with it.”
Luckily, bits and pieces of his music continue to emerge. The latest is Here Tonight: The White Light Demos, released on Universal/A&M’s Omnivore label, containing bare-bones versions of some of the great songs — “For a Spanish Guitar”, “The Virgin”, Where My Lover Lies Asleep” — plus others than didn’t make the cut, including the lovely “Here Tonight”, which turned up on the restored version of an abandoned album called Roadmaster, which was to have been his next A&M release after White Light. The demos are touching in their plainness. You wouldn’t swap them for the original album, but they’re very welcome. And the documentary is highly recommended.
* The photograph of Gene Clark is from the insert with Here Tonight: The White Light Demos, and was taken by Henry Diltz.
I too never liked No Other. I am very surprised people call it a classic, it is way overblown. His best Byrds tracks, first Dillard & Clark, White Light…those are his calling cards. And I agree with Larry Marks because when I was with Gene he did not put out a lot of positive energy. Which may have helped him create great art but did not help him promote it.
Yet as Grantland Rice said it is not whether you won or lost but how you played the game and Gene played the game with heart and soul until both he used up both of those very tender human qualities. He is missed by soooooooo many.
The film sounds very interesting and I hope it turns up on an accessible TV channel like BBC4 sometime soon. I was pleased to hear you challenge the received opinion that No Other is his masterpiece. Like you, I find it overproduced although there are undoubtedly some great songs on there. My personal favourite is actually the Roadmaster album, which I bought as a Dutch import in 1973 and which includes the lovely ‘Here Tonight’ that you mention. The album is clearly cobbled together from a collection of songs recorded at different times and in various stages of completion (and the liner notes talk intriguingly about “…this not being the place to go into the reasons…”). Nevertheless, I love it and feel it represents the authentic voice of Gene Clark better than No Other.
I, too, see the album known as White Light as Gene Clark’s finest (stupendous cover of Tears Of Rage), but I must defend No Other. It was a brave (critics would say foolhardy) attempt to frame his songs in a different context; to break out of the country/folk-rock idiom in which he had worked since the early days of The Byrds. I would argue that some of the material – the title track, Some Misunderstanding, From A Silver Phial, Lady of the North and the wondrous Silver Rain – is as good as anything he wrote. Yes, it is overcooked in places, and the sleeve artwork was disconcerting for some with its pictures of Clark in ‘camp’ satin flares and permed hair. Yet with diminishing interest and sales for his records, the project could equally be commended for its ambition and Clark for having created music that sounds like, well, no other.
Make that Silver Raven, not Silver Rain. Apologies.
I, too, must enter the fray as a “No Other” apologist. Yes, Richard, it’s “over” in some respects but I’ve always been a sucker for its strong tunes. Love “Roadmaster” also full marks to Plant, Alison Krauss and T-Bone for including “Polly Come Home” and “Through the Morning, Through the Night” on “Raising Sand”. Sadly, Clark has been overlooked as a terrific songwriter.
I watched the Byrds video of All I really want to do is Baby be friends with you and couldn’t get over how much Gene Clark looks like my son. It was strange. Anyway Gene Clark wrote great songs..
I recorded and watched this when it was shown on BBC4 last year and I’ve since refused to remove it from the HD, so it’s good to hear that it’s available on DVD. It’s a fine testament to a great artist. Although I’d rate the gorgeous ‘To A Spanish Guitar’ as GC’s greatest song (apparently Dylan liked it) ‘No Other’ gets my vote as the man’s finest hour. It’s Gene’s own ‘Forever Changes’, ‘Pet Sounds’ or ‘Would You Believe’. Overproduced or no, ‘No Other’ is deliciously full and rich and thick and creamy and voluptuous; the guiltiest of musical desserts in which you can smother yourself without feeling let down for lack of substance or nutritional value. It proves nothing succeeds like excess – stunning.
I actually love Gene Clark with the Gosdin Brothers, for me that’s his best work! I think the diverse opinions you get on which is his best album just shows you what an artist he was. Similar to Dylan, Gene explored different sounds to express himself. he didn’t stay stuck in one sound or genre. For me, this just shows his growth as a true artist. The Byrd Who Flew Alone is an excellent film. It’s too bad it doesn’t have an accompanying soundtrack.