The CLARKOPHILE

Cover of 'Past Tense' final mix

2012-01-29T19:56:00.006-05:00

Here's the link.
Password is: geneclarksingsforyou

Paul Aitken: Guitar, harmonica, vocals
Mike Arthurs: Bass
The Clarkophile: Drums and Tom-bourine

Here's the Clarkophile blog post for 'Past Tense'

Final mix this weekend

2012-01-27T18:33:00.000-05:00

Anyone give a listen to 'Past Tense'?
Look, I know it's rough---we're hacks, not pros, folks---but I hope it gives you some idea of what the song is like.
In any event, we're doing final mix this weekend. Item 1 on the agenda: Got to boost my drums! They're completely buried.

Gene Clark's 'Past Tense'...as covered by The Popweasels

2012-01-22T14:39:00.004-05:00

Here's a rough mix of our cover of the song.
'Past Tense' was one of 8 songs included on the unbooted Gene Clark Sings for You demos from 1967. We've tried to Byrdsify/popify it up a little bit, in an effort to manifest the potential I saw in it as a power pop song.
I'll post the final version once we've mixed it.

'Past Tense' by The Popweasels
pw: geneclark

The Kai Clark Band

2012-01-11T15:15:00.006-05:00

Belated Happy New Year, everyone.

Recently, I received an email from Kai in which he provided a link to the brand new electronic press kit of The Kai Clark Band. Check it out!

For the transcript of my interview with Kai from May 22, 2010, go here.

I'll be back very soon with a new entry (coinciding with the High Moon's release of Two Sides To Every Story), along with the waaaaa-aaaaay overdue recording of my band's interpretation of Gene's 'Past Tense' from the Sings for You sessions. For personal reasons, we were forced to abandon work on it over a year ago, but we're determined to polish it off by the end of the month.

Backwoods Gothic

2011-09-23T15:23:00.009-04:00

From City to Country to City:

No Other, the Silverados and Two Sides To Every Story

Following the commercial failure of 1974’s No Other, his sprawling and ambitious tour de force, it seems reasonable to assume Gene Clark suffered a crisis of confidence, possibly even a breakdown of sorts, in the three years prior to the release of Two Sides To Every Story in 1977.

With No Other, he manifested the potential that everyone knew he had in him; that had been evident since his days in The Byrds: he produced A Great Work. It is a daring, brash album, cinematic in its scope and vision, filled with Gene’s incomparable, idiosyncratic, if occasionally impenetrable, poetry, and some of the most soaring, dramatic music heard this side of an opera hall. Bombastic? Over the top? Hell, yeah. That was the whole point.

No Other is the single greatest achievement from a former member of The Byrds.

And Gene wrote or co-wrote every song on the album.

But Asylum’s refusal to widely promote the album or sponsor a major tour – especially after Gene’s notorious confrontation with David Geffen in Dan Tana’s – effectively sealed the fate of Gene’s Grand Artistic Statement, and cast it headlong into the ignominy of the cutout bins.

A brief aside…

Imagine this fantasy scenario.

It’s 1975, and the title track from No Other has become a surprise midsummer hit, prompting a multi-legged stadium tour of North America and the U.K. A handpicked assemblage of L.A’s best musicians and background singers backs Gene. The album is lauded by critics and fans as Clark’s long-awaited masterpiece, heralded by everyone from old Byrds devotees to prog-rock aficionados. Gene Clark signs a lucrative contract with Asylum and becomes a major star through the ‘70s and ‘80s.

As we all know, what actually transpired bears no resemblance to this (But if the idea of witnessing ‘Lady of the North’ wafting heavenward in the open air doesn’t give you goose bumps, you’re best advised to stop reading this blog right now). In reality, Gene hooked up with two journeymen musicians, Duke Bardwell and Roger White, and, musically speaking, retreated from the glitz of the city to the comfort of bluegrass hill country.

There is something very heartbreaking (ah, but isn’t there always with Gene?) about the idea Gene Clark touring his masterpiece – not in limos and private jets, but in the back of a van, playing small dinner clubs.

And yet the Silverados period, notwithstanding his escalating intake of booze and drugs that marred some of the performances, was the moment at which Gene created a truly unique, if entirely non-commercial, sound. From Byrds pop to the stark balladry of the White Light period and the glam-prog of the then recent No Other, Gene and the Silverados reconciled differences between ostensibly disparate musical styles. To paraphrase Van Morrison, Gene, Duke and Roger got down to the real soul inside the very bones of the songs.

This was an abrupt change in the direction of Gene’s music. Spectorian bombast had transformed into bucolic simplicity; the alienation of city life led back to the earthy, mystical country of his childhood. With this in mind, Gene’s then brand new composition, ‘The Daylight Line,’ spells out the story of his post-No Other disillusionment as clearly as a leaked diary entry:

I'd be home in the city but really that is not my place

I could go down in pity or leave and take a look at my face

Gene’s performances with the Silverados were anathema to No Other. Think of how ridiculous it sounds on paper. How could three guys reproduce what took $100,000.00 and a small army of L.A.’s session elite to capture in the studio? This was tantamount to Springsteen touring Born to Run accompanied by kazoo and toy piano.

And yet somehow, in spite of Gene’s drinking, money woes and disinterested audiences, Gene and the Silverados gelled as a unit. As the surviving recorded evidence attests, they recast every discrete period of Gene’s music into a unified, ebullient, yet haunting whole, to create what can only be described as backwoods gothic.

No small achievement that.

Neil Young built his career on sudden changes in style, but there was one big difference – he could afford to. By 1975 Young had achieved considerable commercial success, both as a solo artist and as part of CSN&Y, and therefore had the luxury of screwing with bandwagon-jumpers by releasing Tonight’s the Night while they pined for another ‘Old Man’. When you’re Gene Clark, a guy who hadn’t hitched his wagon to a mega-unit-shifting project for ten years, such a volte-face was another in a series of career-killing decisions. The intended audience for Gene’s fusion of Appalachia and (for lack of a better term) “rock,” with its plaintive, at times wild, yodeling, tasty guitar pickin’ and folksy three-part harmony, did not buy records destined for the top 40.

Doubtless these very thoughts factored into Tommy Kaye’s fateful decision to unceremoniously turf the Silverados, and repeat the No Other formula by hiring slick studio pros.

But listen to ‘Home Run King’ as performed by the Silverados. Then play the studio cut. Which one has more personality? It is as simple as that. Studio sheen and faultless musicianship cannot compete with the kinetic energy achieved by three guys who had rehearsed together, travelled in a van together, eaten lousy road food together, and had, as a solid unit, played a series of low-paying, low profile gigs in smoky clubs.

Kaye’s firing of the Silverados was the country-rock equivalent of Chris Thomas suddenly bringing in Brian May, John Entwistle and Phil Collins to back up John Lydon on Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. It was a decision that effectively sabotaged Gene’s backwoods gothic statement. For whatever reason, perhaps due to his plummeting sense of self-confidence, Gene let it happen.

In the end, the studio pros made no difference. Upon its initial release in 1977, Two Sides To Every Story was eviscerated in Rolling Stone, courtesy of this notorious review:

To those who admire Gene Clark, Two Sides to Every Story is a heartbreaker—in the worst way. ("Is this the dullest album ever made?" was my original opening sentence. "Probably" would have been the second.) Lugubrious to the point of laughableness, the once-classy Clark creeps through a series of Gibranian ballads that is so Antonioni-slow the songs actually seem to stop. Dead. Like this. Bereft of either interest or ideas, this plodding work can only be described as California-liturgidical.

Interlarded among the endlessness are some lame bluegrass ("Home Run King," "In the Pines"), listless rock & roll ("Marylou") and the worst train song ever ("Kansas City Southern"). Producer Thomas Jefferson Kaye is a great help, offering an interminable supply of nothing but the moldiest clichés.

Actually, there is one clever phrase: "You're either/Just the newspaper boy/Or you're either Babe Ruth." How much for a late city edition, Gene? (RS 239)

PAUL NELSON

In terms of Gene’s post-1977 career, I have often referred to this review as delivery of the coup de grâce. Never again would he be signed to a major label as a solo artist.

Tommy Kaye bears a certain amount of blame, for sure. Whether hampered by cocaine burnout or late-‘70s L.A. ennui (or both), Kaye was unable to coax anything resembling spirited performances from the musicians. Nelson was partially right: some of the tracks are plodding, but others, like ‘Hear the Wind’ or ‘Past Addresses,’ simply required a more muscular approach; more oomph from the players – more backwoods soul. In some cases, a less morose, slightly quicker tempo, would have worked wonders. The bones of a great album are there, but some combination of crucial decisions – involving everything from musicians to song selection – had a deleterious effect on the results.

But it was Gene’s inability to get past the failure of No Other that also contributed his undoing. His obvious doubt in his own skills as a composer led him to record three covers, plus an ill-advised remake of one past glory (which presages the formula later employed on 1984’s Firebyrd: ‘Mr. Tambourine Man,’ ‘I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better’).

Another brief aside…

Imagine a confident Clark entering the studio with the Silverados (augmented by keyboard player and drummer) in late 1976, early 1977. Consider the attractiveness of this particular line-up, recording an album with this running order:

Side 1

Home Run King

Lonely Saturday

The Daylight Line

What is Meant Will Be

The Wheel of Time

Side 2

Sister Moon

Hear the Wind

Past Addresses

Silent Crusade

Glib summation: Once a home run king himself, the failure of Two Sides To Every Story sent Gene packing to the minors posthaste.

But it’s only with benefit of hindsight that we may propound these theories about what happened to Gene, or second-guess what he should have done. It’s likely he did not analyze matters as much as I have herein, and was simply trying to do the best he could to survive. He might even laugh at a term like “backwoods gothic” (then again, he might have appreciated someone taking his music this seriously). And who are we to judge? Two Sides, even with all its flaws, still has moments of brilliance. In places it is as moving as anything he ever wrote. We ought to be thankful it’s being re-released.

In a world where you’re either just reporting the accomplishments of others (like a newspaper boy) or you’re the heroic achiever himself (like Babe Ruth), Nelson got it wrong in the vicious kiss-off line in which he compared Gene to the former.

After the failure of his masterpiece, Gene’s punch-drunk ego was almost certainly near collapse. But what Nelson failed to grasp is that even if one is no longer a home run king, it is a designation that cannot be taken away. Even if the Babe strikes out at the bottom of the ninth, run one behind, two out, with a man on third, he can still claim to have achieved what others can only fantasize about. In the end, he’s still remembered as a home run king.

From here on in, there would be no more home runs, no signing bonuses or lucrative

commercial endorsements. But for those who followed his career as it slid into the minors, there was still a series of doubles and triples yet to be heard from Gene Clark.

Interview with Kai Clark, May 22, 2011

2011-06-04T23:02:00.015-04:00

Oftentimes musicians who happen to be the children of famous rock stars, try to avoid direct association with their parent's material (one doesn't see Jakob Dylan firing up 'Absolutely Sweet Marie' in concert). Presumably, this arises out of a (fully understandable) desire to be taken seriously in their own right. But attempting to disassociate and distance themselves from their parents' accomplishments asks for a willing suspension of disbelief, wherein the listener is expected to forget who that person's father is, regardless of similarities of look, mannerism or stage presence.

Not so with Kai Clark, one of Gene Clark's two sons. As evidenced in his band's April 29th, 2011 performance at L.A.'s Roxy to promote High Moon's re-release of his father's misunderstood 1977 album, Two Sides to Every Story, Kai openly embraces his father's music. On that night, Kai and his band, along with some special guests, performed the album from start to finish. Kai also dug into a selection of songs either written by, or closely associated with, his father. And with a giant photograph of Gene Clark in his '60's prime literally watching over him, Kai performed his father's music with palpable exuberance and pride.

And it didn't stop there. Adding to the bittersweet nature of the evening, Kai was joined onstage by the members of the Gene Clark Group [Joel Larson, Bill Rinehart, Chip Douglas], who had last played together some 44 years ago.
As you will see, for Kai the Roxy gig became more than an album release party. It became a celebration of his dad's life, music and legacy. It also served to inculcate within him a deeper appreciation and understanding of his dad's extraordinary gifts. Full circle indeed.

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Q. I just wanted to talk a bit about the reissue of Two Sides to Every Story. How did that get kick started?

A. Well, a young man named of George Wallace, who started a label called High Moon Records -- they were doing the Love album, and I think they were looking for another one. So they released the Love Black Beauty album, as you probably know, as well as the Two Sides to Every Story album. So they’re releasing stuff from around similar eras.

Q. The recent show at the Roxy, how did that go? I’ve watched some of the clips on YouTube. It looked like a lot of fun.

A. It was actually a really good show. It was wonderful. We had a full house. I had some special guests. I had a guy named Tim Bluhm from the Mother Hips, a northern California band, come up and did some stuff. And then we also had the Gene Clark Group reunion, which was the original guys from the Gene Clark Group. That was really cool to have them come up. That was kind of a last-minute thing. So that was pretty interesting. The show went really, really good.

Q. Did you have a chance to sit around and chat with Chip, Joel and Bill that much?

A. Yes, I – well, Chip was around quite a bit. Joel and them were there off and on.

Q. I’ve spoken to all of them, because I was going to write a piece on the Gene Clark Group. Had you met them prior to this?

A. No, I hadn’t. And Bill was quite a unique character as well...

Q. [Laughs].

A. They’re some cool guys. It was fun for them. It was kind of last minute. They came over and we put it all together.

Q. How many songs did you perform?

A. We did four songs. We did ‘Tried So Hard,’ ‘Keep on Pushin,’’ ‘Elevator Operator,’ and one more. I’m trying to remember which one that was.

Q. ‘I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better’?

A. No, we did ‘Feel a Whole Lot Better’ with my group, which came out really good. The whole set was we did the album, front to back, Two Sides to Every Story, then we had the Gene Clark Group come up and do four songs. And then our finishing set we had ‘So You Say You Lost Your Baby,’ ‘Polly Come Home,’ ‘Eight Miles High,’ ‘Mr. Tambourine Man,’ ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ ‘I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better,’ and a couple of other ones that we really liked. And that was just a blast. At the end we had everybody come up onstage for ‘Eight Miles High,’ our finale song. It was really fun.

Q. In terms of the Two Sides to Every Story album, what songs do you think were the hardest to pull off?

A. We worked pretty hard on all the stuff; it all came along pretty good. As far as the hardest to pull off, I would say it would have to be ‘Past Addresses’ -- or ‘Sister Moon’ has a real high vocal part in it [chuckles], so for me it was … It was all pretty good. I mean, they’re unique songs; they have a lot of parts to them. Those were probably the tougher of them.

We had Steve Ehret come up for ‘Sister Moon’ and ‘Give My Love to Marie.’ ‘Give My Love to Marie’ is a real slow ballad. I think he started singing it in a different key, so… [laughs] But you know, some of them were prepared more than others and that’s just normal when you’re having some people come up like that and join you onstage. We had a great time.

I was onstage for three hours, so I didn’t get to get out and mingle as much as I would have liked to, but that’s part of being up there in front and playing a show.

Q. Do you know the exact release date of the Two Sides reissue?

A. You know, there was a small holdup somewhere in Holland, so I think they just have one little piece of paper that’s floating around somewhere that they’re waiting to – it’s just somebody’s got to put a stamp on it and send it back.

I know they’re trying to do it sometime in June. It could go as late as July. They’re just – it’s had a little holdup with that, with some sort of release – because it’s a worldwide release, so I know there was a little bit of a holdup with something in Holland and I’m not quite sure what. But I think that’s getting taken care of, and then it should be out, I figure, by the end of July at the very latest.

Q. Have the bonus tracks been finalized yet?

A. You know, they haven’t. George is working on that and he’s got a lot of great ideas. He has some interview stuff that he might be interested in putting on there, so I’m really not sure of what he’s got as far as the bonus tracks ready to go.

Q. I gave George my wish list...

A. You know, he found some really cool stuff, so I’m sure it’ll be a good little collector’s thing for people out there when they get a hold of it.

Q. I’m going to apologize for this question ahead of time because I know it’s a stupid one, but it’s one of those questions you have to ask. Are you a fan of your dad’s work?

A. Yeah, you know, I wasn’t as much as I have as I got older. I think as a kid, I grew up in a whole different era, and I wasn’t even born until he had already done so much. So, for me, I become more of a fan every day, and especially after doing this album and having to go through every song and learn it just the way it was on the album, it really opened my eyes into how unique his music is. You know, as an adult and as a musician because I write a lot myself. So I had so much of my own material, I had never delved that far into my dad’s material. But now that I’m older, and I’ve gone through this album and stuff, I really have this great respect for my dad’s writing ability and his singing -- and the whole package together was quite unique. I think when people listen to more of his stuff, it’s hard not to be a fan. It grows on you, and you really become enveloped in his emotions in the song. It’s quite unique, I think.

As a kid it was kind of hard to understand it. I think most kids listen to catchy pop and this kind of thing, especially in this day and age. I mean, I’ve always been a fan, but I think now that I’m an adult and I’ve been through more with his music, I’m really a big fan of my dad’s stuff now.

Q. What other musicians do you respect and admire?

A. Boy, there’s a long list of them. You know, growing up, of course Jimi Hendrix -- being a pioneer. Definitely I love country music, so Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, on those sides. A great blues musician, Taj Mahal, Keb Mo, these kind of people as well, definitely have a place in my listening – Bonnie Raitt, all these great musicians that I grew up listening to as well. I mean, the list goes on and on. I really like bluegrass and stuff like that. I could go on and on.

Q. What are your goals musically, for your own career?

A. I have a son now and a wife, and we’re getting our own place up here in northern California, so my goals musically are just to be happy. I don’t need to make a million dollars, I don’t want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone. It would be nice but I don’t have these too high of expectations. I definitely would love to tour and play and make a living at playing music would be comfortable for me. Something where I could tour part of the year and make a living and be at home part of the year with my family and raising my son. I think that’s important. I missed a lot of that growing up with my father because he was always – always gone, you know?

But I love playing live. That’s one of my favourite things, travelling and doing shows.

Q. It just occurred to me that in two days it will be the 20^th anniversary of your dad’s passing ---

A. Yes – yeah.

Q. I can say without hesitation that that had a huge impact on my life. I can’t even begin to imagine how it would have affected you. How did you process something like that; how did you deal with that kind of grief?

A. Well, when he passed away I was 17, it was my graduating year of high school. My mom was going through rough times with drugs and addictions and stuff, so I had to be pretty independent at a young age. [My dad’s death] was a pretty big kicker, on top of everything else I was going through at the time.

So, dealing with the grief, it was tough. I think I was angry for a while when I was young. Now that I’m older you know, it really doesn’t affect me that much. I mean, I get emotional, especially with the release [of Two Sides to Every Story], and being on stage and playing my dad’s songs and stuff. It’s hard to say how it affects me. Sometimes it’s tough. He pops into my head all the time. I thought of him as dad, where millions of people thought of him as Gene Clark of the Byrds or whatnot.

Q. Has the anger passed?

A. Yeah, that was just when I was young, you know, I was kind of angry. It was just part of being young and not understanding it all. It’s hard to take when you’re a kid – and, you know, so much else was going on too. I got over the anger and then it just turned into love and admiration of my father, regardless of what things I went through. Because I can’t imagine what him and my mom must have gone through. you know, with the fame and the money and the people and who do you trust and where do you go. I think that was why they raised us away from all that up in Mendocino.

Q. Do you have a favourite song by your dad?

A. The one I really like, which we did at the show, it’s one of my all-time favourites, is ‘So You Say You Lost Your Baby.’ ‘Polly Come Home’ is a great song too.

Q. That must have made you very proud when Robert Plant and Alison Krauss covered those two songs [‘Polly’ and ‘Through the Morning, Through the Night’] on Raising Sand?

A. Yes, and I got to meet Robert and Alison in 2007 and that was a great experience. They were really great people.

Q. That would have exposed your dad’s music to a whole new generation of people.

A. Yes, it did. T-Bone Burnett, what a great guy -- and that’s someone I would really like to work with in the future. I may have the opportunity to work with him pretty soon. We got some stuff in the works. Just trying to finish up some recordings.

T-Bone did a great, great job of producing that album. He actually found those songs in a play on Broadway. An Irish fellow, I can’t remember his name, had those in his production and T-Bone saw them and said “These would be great” – because I think he was in the works of doing that album with Robert and Alison. So, pretty cool story how it came about, behind those two songs. And what a great job they did.

Q. Are there any plans for future archival releases?

A. You know, it’s hard to say. We always try and do things with respect. There’s a lot of stuff out there that’s not in respect to my father’s name. There’s a bit of stuff out there that is not of the quality we would like to portray of my dad. Of course there’s bootlegs and this and that. We actually just recently found some bootlegs being out there. You can’t catch them all. Me and my brother [Kelly], we incorporated father’s name, and we try and do very respectful stuff of dad’s. I would love to do an archival release at some point. There’s been a couple that have touched on it, but I think there’s so much more ---

Q. Oh yeah.

A. … and I think that it’s gaining more attention. I would like to see more current artists doing dad’s music and kind of touch the younger generation. There’s so much out there that’s a possibility. Dad had so much music. The older I get the more I discover and find, “Wow, this is great!”

Actually, because of this release there’s been a lot of stuff coming out. People are seeing this release and they’re bringing out the stuff they have, which is great because we’re finding some unique gems.
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SPECIAL THANKS TO KAI CLARK

Also from the Two Sides to Every Story release party at the Roxy:

Coming Soon...an interview with KAI CLARK

2011-05-26T21:39:00.001-04:00

This past weekend I had the great pleasure of chatting with Kai Clark, Gene's son. We discussed, among other things, the 20th anniversary of Gene's death (then 2 days away), the forthcoming reissue of Two Sides to Every Story, his recent performance of the album -- in its entirety -- at the Roxy, and his impromptu gig with The Gene Clark Group, Joel Larson, Bill Rinehart and Chip Douglas.

Thanks for the comments!

2011-03-03T14:52:00.000-05:00

Hello, I just wanted to say thanks to all the people who have left messages over the last couple of months. I truly appreciate each one.

'Taken By Surprise' (Unreleased, circa 1977)

2011-03-02T11:58:00.003-05:00

Taken By Surprise

[writer(s) unconfirmed; possibly co-written by G. Clark-T.J. Kaye]

Taken by surprise

Taken with her eyes

I saw my reflection in the clear blue skies

She takes me higher than anyone can

I felt my heart and my soul

In the palm of her hand.

Taken by surprise

Oh, mesmerized

Now I wonder is there where it lies

She takes me higher than any man can

I felt my heart and my soul

In the palm of my hand.

Taken by surprise

Taken with her eyes

I saw my reflection in the clear blue skies

She takes me higher than anyone can

I felt my heart and my soul

Were reborn again.

The post-No Other period is usually thought of as the Gene's extended fall from grace; a 16-year period of artistic decline that played out in an ignominious descent from major label status to -- well, the horrors of the Cinegrill in April 1991.

It has long been the mandate of this blog to refute that opinion...with extreme prejudice.

Of the myriad reasons one may be thankful for the recent announcement of the forthcoming reissue of Two Sides to Every Story, the possible emergence of bonus material is truly a cause for celebration. It's all benefit of hindsight, of course, but when one considers Gene ditched already penned aces like 'Wheel of Time' and 'What is Meant Will Be,' the decision to rely on so many covers is inexplicable. Indeed, as I'm sure I've said here before, I've always felt the failure of No Other threw Gene into an extended period of creative self-doubt. He would routinely pick covers of dubious quality -- (cf. 'Mary Lou' from Two Sides, 'Vanessa' from Firebyrd) to the detriment of superior material by his own hand ('Crazy Ladies', 'Last of the Blue Diamond Miners').

It's difficult to know where 'Taken By Surprise' fits into all of this. From Einarson's invaluable Mr. Tambourine Man, we know the song was performed by Gene and Tommy Kaye with the ragged-but-righteous KC Southern Band. But it is not listed among Gene's published works, which begs the question: who wrote it?

My guess is it's a co-write. Lyrically, there aren't any obvious Clarkisms---there is no complex imagery,

no metaphysical puzzlers to consider. That said, one must consider the post-No Other Clark had largely abandoned the cosmic questioning that characterized his masterwork, in favour of simpler, would-be radio-friendly tales of love and loss ('Release Me Girl,' 'Something About You Baby'). The tendency to view songwriting as workmanlike craft as opposed to poetic expression of soul would be the chief conflict in Gene's writing from this point forward. (But who could blame him for wanting to appeal to the masses and re-establish himself as a writer of hits?)

And what of the music? Well, put succinctly, 'Taken By Surprise' is a slow-burning gem. Obviously featuring the Three Byrds Land in London personnel, the backing feels like a sloppier version of Zuma-era Crazy Horse. Featuring massive duelling guitars (FACT: the KC Southern Band was the heaviest band to emerge from the Byrds family tree), the song begins with a riff which sounds uncannily like a slowed-down take on Ringo's 'It Don't Come Easy.' It's a five minutes-plus guitar fest, interpolating the crunchy sound that characterizes the KC Southern's Three Byrds Land set --- but cleaned up some, like a newly shaven saloon habitue in a fine new suit.

The big difference here is Gene's singing. On much of the live KCSB material, Gene adopts his regrettably generic "Southern Rock" voice (epitomized in his pronunciation of "Kansas City Suh-thren"
---ugh). Here, however, it's pure Gene Clark. As the backing gets heavier, rockier, Gene's voice does not. Thankfully, he does not trot out the gravelly affectation that makes the Land in London version of 'Kansas City Southern' so unlistenable. That is not to say he's laying back and going through the motions. It's a tremendously moving performance, one of controlled intensity in which sensitivity triumphs over bombast.

So is it a Gene Clark original? As stated, my guess is it's probably a co-write with Tommy Kaye.

Does it matter if it's a Gene Clark original? With a vocal performance as moving as Gene gave on this occasion, the answer is no.

It will be a great shame if 'Taken By Surprise' is not included as a bonus track on the upcoming reissue. But if it is, you'll excuse me if the first thing I do is check the writing credits.

CLARKOPHILE NOW ON TWITTER

2011-02-09T09:08:00.000-05:00

Clarkophile on Twitter

Gene Clark news and updates, upcoming blog entries & more.

'Past My Door' from Gene Clark Sings for You, played on radio/up on YouTube

2011-02-06T14:27:00.000-05:00

Gene Clark - 'Past My Door'

An abbreviated version, missing the last 1:15 secs, but still, this is most of the track, including all of the lyrics.
After 44 years...pretty friggin' amazing.

Original Clarkophile entry re 'Past My Door' can be found here.

Two Sides to Every Story being re-released!

2011-02-02T22:18:00.002-05:00

The announcement was made today on the Yahoo GC site. Tremendous news.

Echoes - 1972 vocal

2010-12-25T22:29:00.000-05:00

New Poll: Which vocal performance of 'Echoes' do you prefer?

2010-12-24T11:03:00.001-05:00

So which is it?

The deep, moody Dylanesque original?

(listen below)

Or the mature, less mannered vocal from 1972? (listen above)

Scroll down to vote.

Echoes - Original vocal

2010-12-23T21:49:00.001-05:00

'Echoes'

2010-12-23T21:22:00.001-05:00

Left and right:

The ad placed in Billoard to announce the release of 'Echoes,'

reprinting the full lyric sheet.

(click to enlarge)

In 'Echoes,' the Baroque-pop masterpiece that kicks off his debut 1967 solo album, Gene Clark analyzes the previous three years of his life while taking a pot-infused stroll down Sunset Boulevard.

The first four lines of the song provide brilliant exposition for the dual narratives (past/present) to follow.

On the streets you look again
At the places you have been
Or the moments that you thought
Where am I going.

One can imagine Gene's having written these lyrics in the immediate aftermath of his split from the Byrds. Only a few months prior to that aborted plane flight to New York, he (along with Arthur Lee, Roger McGuinn, David Crosby and a few others) had been one of the Young Kings of Hollywood; a front-and-centre member of the biggest American band since The Beach Boys.

And in early '66 he had abandoned/been abandoned by, his fellow Byrds.

It must have been humbling, possibly even a little humiliating, to walk down Sunset Strip as a former member of the Byrds. Imagine how many times people got in his face demanding to know why he left the band.

How would he have responded? How could he have responded?

How could he have explained that he had shot to stardom and suffered a debilitating, untreated nervous breakdown in the span of less than a year, and that the former very likely precipitated the latter? How could he have explained the brotherhood of the Byrds was built upon a shaky foundation of envy, sarcasm, ambition and infighting within which he was far too sensitive a soul to exist?

Perhaps it is for this reason the evening sojourn which constitutes the in-the-present narrative takes place at night, when he would be less likely to be recognized: "You can walk out in the night/and be sure that it's all right."

The brilliance of the opening lines lies in the communion of literal and figurative descriptions of movement and place. (Spatial metaphors abound in Clark's '65 to '69 output; check out how many times he uses words like "beside", "behind", "ahead" "in front of" as descriptors of one's status in relationships. Definitely a theme to be pursued in further Clarkophile posts.)
He looks backward (in his mind) while walking forward (literally) to ask the question "Where am I going?"

The implication is clear: the question is as relevant now (as an ex-Byrd) as it was upon his arrival in L.A. as a callow farm boy.

Though the walls are like the dead
They reflect the things you've said
And the echoes in your head continue showing
Here the castles you can build
Out of dreams you have fulfilled
Won't keep out all of the ill wind that is blowing
And you'll look still for a trace
Of an opening in a place
Where you'll find the life that you were used to knowing.

As the walk down the street continues the reasons for the self-examination, the simultaneous looking back/looking ahead, become clearer, as does the compulsion to get out of the house in the first place.

The decision to leave The Byrds at the height of their fame was a head-scratcher for friends and fans alike, but for Gene it appears the immediate implications and long-term repercussions of his actions dogged him relentlessly. It's clear the highly strung Clark was tormented by his own thoughts, perhaps even doubting his capacity to make solid decisions in his life.

It would be reasonable to assume that during this time he may have been experiencing second thoughts about having missed that plane.

What are the echoes that continue showing? In an ingenious bit of synaesthesia, it is the very decision to leave the Byrds, with all its professional ramifications and personal reverberations, which defines the echo: it is the gossip echoing among fans, broadcast over the news.

I'm reasonably certain that among the doubtless bemused L.A. music community, at least among those outside the Byrds' immediate circle, the phrase "What the fuck?" must have been uttered on several occasions as the news of Gene's departure broke.

For Gene, the echo - something we usually think of as being heard, not seen -is made manifest in the gloom of depression ("the ill wind that is blowing") that descended upon Clark in the immediate post-breakdown period.

You can walk out in the night
And be sure that it's all right
To exaggerate the world that's only being
You can watch Regina dance
Through the crystal panes of glass
Yet you know that there's so much that she's not seeing.

A nighttime walk down the Strip provides temporary solace from the pounding echoes, but this trip can't be undertaken without herbal assistance "to exaggerate the world that's only being."

Stopping by the Whisky, Clark sees Regina, a girlfriend who works as a go-go dancer.

Regina doesn't spot him, nor does she see that he has already moved on to Michelle Phillips. ("You know that there's so much that she's not seeing" most certainly refers to the affair with Michelle, but the line may also describe Regina's obliviousness to the sexual objectification inherent in her work.)

Now the focus shifts squarely upon Michelle Phillips.

Still you hold one precious thought
After all this time you've sought
That she might be just protecting what she longs for

Gene wants to believe that the clandestine nature of their relationship ("protecting what she longs for") is an indication of Michelle's commitment, but he senses some ambivalence on her part.

And her eyes are veiled with black
Cause she plays she can't look back
At the love she wanted so, now says is no more

While Michelle claims her relationship with "the love she wanted so" (i.e. John) is over, Gene senses she is struggling to convince herself - and him - of this ("she plays she can't look back").

The lights go on, commence the cold
As your senses will be sold
To the parrot watchers mimicking no reasons
To pretend that what they are
From the fact completely far
While the truth may be betrayal, lies and treason

Back at the Whisky, the lights come on; it's closing time. No longer cloaked in the darkness of the streets or his usual VIP booth in the dimly lit bar, Gene is besieged by inquisitive Byrds fans ("parrot watchers"). Their collective cross-examination constitutes an assault to his senses that mimics the aggressive, unsympathetic group dynamic he had just escaped in the Byrds.

Build their towers in the sand, don the roles of their command
While the kingdom is the innocence they're stealing
And infection easily spreads
Through the searching, twisted heads
As they team up to tear down each other's feelings.

Having ventured out in the night to escape inner turmoil caused by his leaving the Byrds,
Gene is now reminded of them ("The truth may be betrayal, lies and treason").

And within that paradoxical, confounding philosophical puzzle - twisting and spinning in on itself ad infinitum - Clark deftly encapsulates the manipulative twisting of words that often occurs during the sort of arguments and conflicts that characterized his life in The Byrds.

As the Young Kings of the Sunset Strip, The Byrds created some of the most vibrant, eclectic and ambitious music to emerge from the 1960's. But the group itself resembled "towers in the sand"- tentative constructs reaching dizzying heights but doomed to imminent collapse - even as they were enjoying their greatest success in 1965 ("don the roles of their command").

As we know, the original quintet would be hopelessly splintered before the end of 1967, and Clark's concluding lines confidently presage the occurrence. With the kind of insight that could only be exhibited by someone who was a part of it, Clark assesses the dysfunctional, self-destructive nature which manifested both The Byrds' artistic brilliance and their eventual breakup: "They team up to tear down each other's feelings."

As fuck-you lines go, this has to be one of the most incisive and insightful ever written. Anyone who has ever heard the studio argument included on The Notorious Byrd Brothers remaster can attest to its veracity.

The decision to release this stately, elegiac gem as the lead-off single from Gene's first solo album was perfectly understandable.

It is, in my opinion, one of the true masterpieces of the '60's.

But, to be fair, it has no chorus, no instantly identifiable hook; by virtue of the complex lyrics alone, one cannot easily sing along with it like, say, The Beatles' 'Eight Days a Week.'
In retrospect, the peppy country-rock prototype 'Tried So Hard' might have been a better choice.

But Columbia believed in Gene, at least in the beginning, so one cannot second-guess them.
In truth, Columbia got it right. It was the fickle record-buying public that got it wrong.

In spite of that, the echo of Gene's genius continues to be shown.

Progress Report: 'Past Tense'

2010-09-12T18:20:00.000-04:00

Work on this has been slow. Both my partner and I have had unfortunate personal matters dominate the summer, which has severely limited our recording time.
However, we have knocked off a rough demo of the song just to hammer out an arrangement, guitar, bass and drums. Astonishingly, I sang backup (there's a first time for everything) with Paul and it didn't sound bad at all.
That said, it's not good enough to post here. A more formal, polished recording will be presented at some point. Promise.
We have figured out the artistic whats and hows with respect to recording the song; what's got us stymied at the moment is the practical concern of when.

Also, my apologies for the delay in posting anything on 'Echoes' as I had promised. I won't trouble you with the details, but it's been simply impossible for me.

COMING SOON

2010-07-13T15:49:00.000-04:00

'In a Misty Morning'

2010-05-24T12:32:00.000-04:00

IN A MISTY MORNING

I came to town on a Monday morning
The tall buildings breaking up the city sky
The streets were wet, it had just been pouring
Like the clouds above the storm just had to cry
I trained my eye on a police cruiser
I watched and I gulped as he passed me by
I looked around to see the street lights changing
And a voice down deep inside me asked me why
Running through my thoughts
Were the memories of the days that I had left behind
Way down in my soul were the hope
That better days were always there to find
The fog rolled in and the lights grew dimmer
And the sound of the city streets seemed amplified
In the misty morning when it had just been pouring
Like the clouds above the storm just had to cry
Like the clouds above the storm just had to cry

On Saturday, May 25th, 1991, at approximately 12:30 on a rainy afternoon in London, Ontario, I sat down at the kitchen table of my second floor apartment house on Princess Ave. to eat my lunch. Spaghetti leftovers. I'm pretty sure I was hungover.
It almost seems quaint to say this now because I never do it anymore but I listened to the radio on as I ate. The hard-news headlines were read first, followed by the teasers for upcoming segments.
“And, coming up in entertainment news, an original member of the Byrds has died.”
“Gotta be Crosby,” I thought rather smugly. Odd though that they didn’t say “An original member of the Byrds and CSN has died.” After all, Crosby had been in the news regularly throughout the ’80's, and for all the wrong reasons. It was not for nothing he seemed the likely candidate. Drugs, guns, DUI, incarceration: who else could it be?
So it was akin to a sledgehammer’s blow to the gut that I took in the news about Gene. I sat there stunned, paralysed in abject shock. Maybe they got Clark mixed up with Michael Clarke? Could be, you never know.
Other shock-inspired rationalizations followed before the gloom of acceptance sank in.

I hadn’t felt this depth of sorrow since Lennon was murdered. But with Gene it was much different. It was grief inside a vacuum. Inside I was ripped apart, yet there were no interruptions of regularly scheduled programming to facilitate the airing of hastily prepared television specials; no Gene Clark marathons on the radio; no impromptu public gatherings of teary-eyed fans clutching handmade signs asking Why?
There was none of that. In those pre-Internet days there was only myself. I suppose it was fairly predictable, a little cliché, to want to listen to Gene’s music at this time. But one must also understand it was something I did every day anyway. Only it was different now. But what song?

****************************************************************

In April 1972, Gene Clark entered the studio to record tracks for the projected follow-up to White Light, but, as we all know, the sessions were aborted before the album was completed. Of the eight songs finished before A&M put the kibosh on it, the philosophically evergreen ‘Full Circle Song’ and the solemn, cinematic ‘In a Misty Morning’ would emerge as the standout songs when the album was eventually released, after the addition of other tracks, as Roadmaster.

Lyrically, ‘In a Misty Morning’ focuses upon a discrete moment in time after some unknown personal catastrophe (this is Gene Clark, so we’ll assume it was a woman---it’s always them wimmin’). Our narrator arrives in a new city and immediately experiences acute spatial and emotional alienation: things are no longer as they were; nor have they settled into what they will become. Gone, at least temporarily, is a sense of familiarity with faces, surroundings, routine. Whether by his own design or at the whim of another, he is thrust into a zone of transition, effectively caught between a rock (the past) and the hard place of the unfolding unknown.

Within this sphere of displacement and alienation, however, comes heightened sensitivity and awareness. I have deliberately posted the full lyrics to the song at the beginning of my piece because it’s important, I think, to recognize just how much detail Gene was able to effortlessly cram into less than twenty lines.
The song unfolds like a short film, and contains stunning richness in its evocation of everyday occurrences/experiences to provide evidence of this heightened awareness.
One may reasonably conclude, however, that this awareness is entirely present-based. What descriptions we get of the past and future are tellingly devoid of similar detail. Sketchy, mysterious allusions to the past (“memories of the days I had left behind”) correlate with similarly vague notions of the future(“hope that better days were always there to find”).
Consider the astonishing details that lend clarity and immediacy to this particular moment: we know the day and approximate time on which the events take place (“Monday morning”); we have an idea of the metropolitan location of the action (“tall buildings”), we know the weather conditions (“the streets were wet, it had just been pouring”); and we are given a sobering jolt of reality which possibly alludes to paranoia resultant of drug use (“I trained my eye on a police cruiser/I watched and I gulped as he passed me by.”)

Amazingly, all of this information is gleaned in the first six lines.

Such intense precision in describing the present—particularly the inherent vulnerability of gulping at the sight of a cop—juxtaposed with such vagueness in describing the past, or apparent inability to relate plans for the future, creates a sense of immediacy: This is a defining moment in his life. This is his sea change.
The payoff line, which serves to unify the solemnity of the present with the wounds of the past and the irresolute nature of the future, arrives in a moving use of pathetic fallacy as an expression of sorrow covering all: “Like the clouds above the storm just had to cry.”

I chose to play ‘In a Misty Morning’ on that bleak, rainy Saturday afternoon in May, 1991, when the clouds hung so impossibly low, on the day when I found out Gene had died. For nineteen years I was unable to answer the question as to why I chose this song over any other.
It was only recently, when I sat down to write this piece, that I came to the realization that what I learned on May 25th, 1991, catapulted me into a predicament similar to the one suffered by the narrator of the song: I was caught between what had been and what would now be. Perhaps I too felt a heightened sense of awareness, inasmuch as I can still see myself sitting down to eat lunch on that misty Saturday, I can still hear that radio announcement on FM96, and I will still literally gasp for air whenever I remember being sucker-punched by the shock of it.

And after lunch I went for a walk in the rain. As I walked, I went inside this song for solace.

Clarkophile now recording 'Past Tense' from Gene Clark Sings for You

2010-05-09T20:54:00.000-04:00

As excuses go for failing to post a new entry on schedule, I think this one is fairly understandable. My band, The Popweasels, has commenced recording a version of 'Past Tense', one of the tracks from the legendary Sings for You sessions.

The results will be posted here.

Poll Winner: In a Misty Morning

2010-04-30T17:19:00.000-04:00

Well, it was a nail-biter, but 'In a Misty Morning' edged out 'Echoes' by one vote to win the poll.
My sincere thanks to everyone who voted.

The results were as follows:

1. IN A MISTY MORNING
2. ECHOES
3. SOMETHING'S WRONG
4. YOUR FIRE BURNING
5. 1975

Accordingly, very soon I'll post a blogpiece about 'In a Misty Morning', from Roadmaster.

Clarkophile in May/June issue of SHINDIG!

2010-04-25T16:19:00.001-04:00

Fans of obscure Garage-psych will want to pick up the May/June 2010 issue of Shindig! magazine which features a piece I wrote about the pride of McHenry, Illinois, The Lemon Drops, best known for their song 'I Live in the Springtime', featured in Rhino's 4-disc box set, Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968.
I conducted interviews with three surviving members of the band, Danny Smola, Eddie Weiss and Gary Weiss, as well as the head of Cicadelic Records, Michael Greisman. Cicadelic is a boutique label specilizing in lesser-known, but fondly remembered, Garage-Psych acts from the 1960's, like The Lemon Drops.

'In a Misty Morning' leading the poll...

2010-03-29T16:51:00.000-04:00

Still 30 days left to vote.

Thanks to all of those who have taken the time to vote. As of now, it looks like 'In a Misty Morning' is the clear front-runner. On the day the poll closes, I will post an entry referable to the winning song.

Below I've provided some YouTube links for a couple of the other songs featured in the poll, in case anyone is unfamiliar with them.

Something's Wrong

Echoes

1975

Reader's Choice

2010-03-12T11:01:00.000-05:00

Over the last few months I've had many interesting suggestions for songs to discuss in The Clarkophile, so I thought I would conduct a poll in the hope of eliciting thoughts on what other Gene Clark songs you would like to see featured herein.

Comments are always welcome. A big hello to the faithful who keep reading and communicating with me. I truly appreciate it.

Songwriting 101: 'Strength of Strings' from No Other

2010-01-26T13:01:00.000-05:00

Audacious and ambitious in its breadth and scope, ‘Strength of Strings’ epitomizes the cursorily vague philosophical core of No Other, and provides best evidence of the heights to which Gene’s muse might have taken him, had he not been emotionally eviscerated by the failure of his Grand Artistic Statement.
It also refutes any compulsion to pigeonhole Gene as just another sensitive, laid-back 70’s singer-songwriter. Yes, it is true, the stark, acoustic-based love songs on White Light certainly leaned in this direction. As a result, it is often lumped in with the 1971's graduating class from the James Taylor School for Sensitive Denim-Wearing Balladeers. While the often esoteric nature of the lyrics does not always support this categorization, the relative harmlessness of the music does.
What I mean to say is that the lyrics on White Light easily outshine any of its sometimes meandering, often innocuous, melodies. To anyone who did not read the lyrics of 'Spanish Guitar', it might seem like a pleasant little ditty. The title track features a loping melody over a non-stop barrage of largely impenetrable lyrics. Obviously a great deal of work went into the symbolism and complexity of White Light's words, but the blandness of their presentation does not reflect this intensity(cf. the anemic White Light version of 'One in a Hundred' with the definitive, simply glorious take on Roadmaster featuring the original five Byrds).
I sometimes wonder if Gene, as on earlier songs written during his cerebral Sings for You period (''66/'67), concentrated on honing his lyrics to the detriment of his melodies. (It is my theory it was for this reason that the Sings for You demos were permanently shelved.) But ‘Strength of Strings’ obliterates any conception of Gene as just another Dylan-worshipping, acoustic guitar-toting words guy. Consider this: it is a full two minutes into this six-and-a-half-minute epic until a single word is sung. Two full minutes. To my knowledge, no other Clark song from his officially released canon features a comparable interlude that is wholly dependent upon what its writer sought to communicate through pure, wordless music.

Beginning with a dual acoustic/electric guitar riff with an insistent, distinctly Native American texture, other instruments gradually join, as though awakened by, and compelled to replicate, the notes. Drums and bass soon enter, accentuating the final notes of the pattern, as if to gently presage the thundering climax of the song still some minutes away. But the pattern resumes; and each time it is repeated, the song’s intensity rises. An eerie chorale enters in the next cycle, interpreting the riff as hypnotic tribal chant.

But all of this is merely prelude.

Russ Kunkel’s dramatic, resonant tom-tom fill at the 1:30 mark launches the song into its next section, wherein an ethereal slide riff (presumably played by Gene’s partner-in-crime, Jesse Ed Davis) soars heavenward on the wings of the seraphic chorale. What occurs in those thirty seconds (1:30-2:00) constitutes some of the most exhilarating, deeply soulful music I have ever heard. For those brief seconds, Clark’s case for music as a profound, mystical-spiritual force is made without having uttered a word. It is, quite simply, a moment of transcendence.

The sweeping, cinematic grandeur of the first two minutes does present a problem. How does one follow this intro without rendering the remaining minutes of the song as pure anticlimax? Where do we go from here? And after such a dramatic stage has been set for his lead vocal, shouldn’t Gene’s opening salvo feature lyrics that aspire to the same lofty goal as the music? But when Gene makes his verbal entrance into the song a strange thing occurs. In a nice bit of ironic undercutting, he readily admits his impotence to craft language to adequately match the power of the music surging within him:

In my life the piano sings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings.

But just listen to how Gene sings these lines. Think of the hushed, bedsit-romanticism of ‘With Tomorrow’, or the weathered but stoic reading of ‘Echoes’—this is something else entirely. Empowered by Kaye’s epic, Wagnerian production, Gene sounds as though he’s poised on the bridge of a ship, cursing into the eye of a fearsome gale. Pushed to the edge of his range, brimming with operatic gusto, Gene’s magnificent performance carried the day.

One of the things that makes Gene’s lyrics so deeply compelling was his ability to convey abstract concepts in very few words. In the above he affirms the inherent power of music over language, even as he explicates the vagaries of songwriting methodology: Music fires his imagination, compels him to write lyrics, but he concedes that his words could never embody the power he absorbs from the music.
It is this tension between aspiration and failure which results in the compulsion to capture, interpret and disseminate this power into language (lyrics). This cyclical phenomenon constitutes an artist’s creative surges; they are his self-regenerating lifeblood.
While it’s doubtful that Gene read Robert Browning, he had an intuitive knowledge that any artist’s reach must exceed his grasp.
With this in mind, it is perhaps not surprising that Gene, notwithstanding his earlier admission of impotence, goes ahead anyway and attempts to capture in words exactly how he internalizes music as a series of startling visions:

Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings,
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings.
Fiery rain and rubies,
Cooling sun
Now I see that my world has only begun.

“Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings” is one of the most exquisite lines Gene Clark ever wrote, and yet, in spite of this, he concluded that these words do not adequately reflect the power of music burning within him. Next come a series of seemingly conflicting images: a rain of fire; a sun that cools. Is this just hippy-dippy mystic babble, or is there maybe something more going on here?
With these words, Gene has constructed images in which naturally occurring opposites are harmoniously reconciled in the act of musical creation. He has created a sphere of musical perfection within his mind.
Some might find the “cosmic range” line a tad irksome, but this is just another way of saying “out on the end of time”, as he did some nine years prior with ‘She Don’t Care About Time’. In this instance, it is an expression of the boundlessness of a songwriter’s imagination in communion with the unseen (yet seen) musical-spiritual divinity.

‘Strength of Strings’ is a hymn to this divinity.