The Turtles: "You Showed Me"

March 3, 1969 (1 week)

The Byrds are, at least in the opinion of this humble blogger, the finest American rock group of all time. In terms of reinvention, they were second only to The Beatles (third if you also factor in jazz since they had that Miles Davis guy). They had at least four accomplished songwriters (Gene Clark, David Crosby, Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons). Roger McGuinn is one of the greatest guitarists of his generation. Their first six albums — Mr. Tambourine Man, Turn! Turn! Turn!, Fifth Dimension, Younger Than Yesterday, The Notorious Byrd Brothers and Sweetheart of the Rodeo — represents one of the most impressive LP hot streaks in music history. While they had more of their share of difficulties (increasingly low sales, in fighting, the usuals) they nevertheless went from strength to strength over the first four years as a going concern. Folk rock, psychedelic rock, country rock: The Byrds mastered them all.

And yet, The Turtles' "You Showed Me" is the closest thing we'll get to a Byrds single on this blog. "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn! Turn! Turn!" had both topped the Billboard Hot 100 back in 1965 (with the former also reaching the top of the UK chart) but both fell just short on the RPM hit parade. Canadians were just about the only people with the good sense to take their brilliant and influential single "Eight Miles High" into the Top 10 (it struggled just about everywhere due to alleged drug references) but, otherwise, they never had any other major hits north of the border. That said, their creative peak coincided with a downturn in sales in seemingly every territory.

By 1969, the lineup of The Byrds had shifted dramatically, even by their standards. Longtime bassist and songwriter Chris Hillman had left to form the Flying Burrito Brothers with short-term Byrd Gram Parsons, leaving Roger McGuinn as the sole holdover from their glory years. Rather than having to choose between pursuing country music and reverting back to space-age acid rock, the singer-guitarist rather sensibly decided to do both for their seventh album, the stupidly named Dr. Byrds and Mr Hyde. (A bad title but appropriate given their dual musical nature) A total flop in North America, it nevertheless sold respectably in Britain. At around the same time, the Flying Burrito Brothers released their debut album The Gilded Palace of Sin, a critical smash which sold abysmally. (As Brian Eno once said, only 10,000 people bought the first Burrito album but everyone who did formed a country rock band and were fitted for Nudie suits) Meanwhile, Gene Clark put out the second of two stellar LPs with multi-instrumentalist Doug Dillard, which were similarly ignored by consumers. The only current or ex-Bryd who managed to have a hit recording that year was David Crosby with his newfound trio Crosby, Stills and Nash.

What the majority of these very talented individuals lacked was a strong and sustained pop vision, not unlike Paul McCartney. Clark and Hillman had written outstanding pop songs in their day ("I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better" and "Have You Seen Her Face?" respectively) but members of The Byrds were mainly preoccupied by folk, country, Indian raga, free jazz and 'Cosmic American Music' (whatever the hell that was supposed to be) to be concerned with something as trivial as pure pop. In fact, the album that became Sweetheart of the Rodeo had initially been pitched by McGuinn as a double album history of American music. While it's always possible some facsimile of Broadway and/or the Great American Songbook would have been included, it's rather revealing that they and other forms of twentieth century pop are never mentioned as being a part of it. McGuinn envisioned it opening with tracks harking back to Appalachian folk and early bluegrass before giving way to blues, country, jazz and rock and culminating with a futuristic leap into synthy space rock. Pop? I doubt it even crossed his mind.

The Clark/McGuinn co-write "You Showed Me" has that pop sensibility even if it was from a time when they were still developing. Not even particularly promising, their early demo is chiefly of historic interest. It is, therefore, something of an odd choice of cover version for The Turtles. "You Won't Have to Cry", "The World Turns All Around Her", "Renaissance Fair", and "Change Is Now" (among others) would have all made for smashing singles. It's possible, though, that The Turtles knew there was little that they could have added to them and next to no chance they'd even be able to equal such outstanding album deep cuts. They could, however, add plenty to a very basic cut like "You Showed Me".

Perhaps this is why there is a tasteful string section accompanying them. Or why there are hints of reggae, a genre The Byrds never touched. Or why they employ the use of a Moog synthesizer, an instrument that McGuinn and his on-again, off-again chums were familiar with. In some ways, it sounds like how The Byrds ought to have treated it, especially if it had ended up on the wide ranging Notorious Byrd Brothers. If The Byrds were instrumental in commercializing Bob Dylan, you might say that The Turtles, in turn, did everything they could to commercialize the now luckless Byrds.

Fascinatingly, The Turtles attempted all-encompassing study of American music just as The Byrds had planned to do in early 1968. As opposed to the jingle-janglers, though, the LA five piece of Howard Kaylan, Mark Volman, Al Nichol, Jim Pons, and Johnny Barbata actually got it completed, released at the end of '68 as The Turtles Present the Battle of the Bands. They did so in taking on a series of alter egos in order to explore zany takes on surf rock, country, psychedelic, and even Hawaiian music. On "You Showed Me" they transformed into Nature's Children, a group of nudists (which explains the sleeve above: easy ladies). Not only did they add some much needed musical textures but they turned a simple song of young love on its head and into an ode to exhibitionists. You showed him all right.

Score: 8

Paul Revere and the Raiders: "Kicks"

May 2, 1966 (1 week)

As I have discussed before, one of the key rock bands who will not be reviewed in this space is is the California quintet-turned-quartet musical polymaths The Byrds. I have already expressed regret that neither "Mr. Tambourine Man" (a number one of the Hot 100) nor "Turn! Turn! Turn!" (a chart topper on both sides of the Atlantic) were unable to reach the top in Canada. Worse still, they never managed an unexpected number one with any of their many far superior singles. Strong as much of their jingle-jangle folk-rock is, there was much more to them. Sadly, as opposed to The Beatles, their commercial decline coincided with their creative apogee. Here are just a few notable aspects of The Byrds:

They innovated within the realms of folk rock, psychedelic rock, raga rock and country rock. They then attempted to merge them all together during their largely ignored later years to mixed results.

Their first six albums are absolutely brilliant. From Mr. Tambourine Man through to Sweetheart of the Rodeo, every LP they released between 1965 and 1968 was either flawless or very nearly so. I particularly recommend 1967's Younger Than Yesterday and The Notorious Byrd Brothers from the following year.

For a band who relied on Bob Dylan and ...(checks notes)...The Bible for their two biggest hits, they had at least four gifted songwriters. They are Gene Clark, David Crosby, Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons. It is said that others who came and went could write a song or two as well so let's give them that too!

In addition, lead singer Roger McGuinn was an outstanding guitarist. With tastes as catholic as Lennon and McCartney, he took influences such as John Coltrane and Ravi Shankar to create some incredible solos.

Finally, they were as influential as they come (which the first point sort of implies). Even on their debut album, their sound was so distinctive that the studious George Harrison borrowed much from their version of "The Bells of Rhymney" in order to come up with "If I Needed Someone". Whatsmore, their jangle pop sound has never really gone away as generations of critically acclaimed and commercially doomed power pop bands will attest.

"If I Needed Someone" appeared on The Beatles' seminal Rubber Soul album during the closing stages of 1965 which was roughly six months after the release of Mr. Tambourine Man featuring "The Bells of Rhymney". Clearly, the 12-string jangle sound was catching on. A number of garage rock bands tried it out including the so far largely luckless Paul Revere and the Raiders. Actually, things had been looking up for them after several years of obscurity. Their swampy blues rock single "Steppin' Out" had even given them a Top 10 hit on the RPM chart though it did rather less well on the Hot 100.

"Kicks" proved to be the breakthrough hit they needed. The Byrdsian sound isn't just evident in the guitar playing but in the softer vocal delivery on the part of lead singer Mark Lindsay. Rather than being a very early prototype for John Fogerty's distinctive rasp with Credence Clearwater Revival, he sounds much more like a trippy, acid-rock figurehead spouting off about egos and voids and all that hokum. Yet, that's not what he's selling: tripping your balls off may well be fun and enlightening but what happens the next morning when you have to once again deal with reality?

What's remarkable about "Kicks" is how early this anti-drug warning came along. The song's Wikipedia article states that it stood in contrast to the likes of Jefferson Airplanes' "White Rabbit", a single that wouldn't come out for another year. (It also mentions The Association's "Along Comes Mary" and The Byrds — yes, them again — and their groundbreaking hit "Eight Miles High" which both came out at roughly the same time as "Kicks") While squares from the establishment were already voicing their disapproval of recreational drugs, Paul Revere and the Raiders were voicing their concerns well before straight edge types who had cleaned up due to the influence of a in-no-way shady cult leader began doing so.

Some of their contemporaries considered the Raiders to be traitors or felt that their hit record was a load of crap but this didn't impact kids who tried to make up for The Byrds and their lack of a Canadian number one by taking this to the top instead. "Eight Miles High", "Set You Free This Time" (a Top 20 entry that largely failed elsewhere), "Have You Seen Her Face" and "Goin' Back" all would have been sure fire 9's or 10's but this will have to do. Not nearly as brilliant as the group's fans will have you believe but nowhere close to as dogshit as David Crosby considered. Influential as they no doubt were, The Byrds didn't inspire a whole lot of wonderful bands and certainly none who could match their level of excellence. With the bar sufficiently lowered, "Kicks" manages to clear it.

Score: 7

The Walker Brothers: "Make It Easy on Yourself"

November 29, 1965 (2 weeks)

I was in my early-to-mid twenties when I began to hear the name Scott Walker an awful lot. Like Nick Drake and Gram Parsons, he was this tortured artist who no one appreciated when he was young and beautiful. Except in Walker's case, he was still alive at the time. And he wasn't quite as good looking as either Nick or Gram. And he had once been hugely successful, albeit not for all that long. But otherwise, they were three peas in a pod!

Like German novelist Thomas Mann, Walker seemed to "immature with age" as critic Geoff Dyer puts it. In Mann's case, it was political. He went from a young conservative who strongly supported imperialist Germany in the First World War to eventually being so enamoured of social democracy that he found himself abandoning his life in the United States because of the Senator Joseph McCarthy's red scare witch trials — and this was when he was well into his seventies. You're supposed to become a Tory as you get older, not go radical over time. As for Walker, he did so creatively, churning out grand pieces of baroque pop before gradually embracing avant-garde music just as his contemporaries were selling out to MTV commercialism.

One can scarcely detect that it's the same individual who crooned on Jacques Brel's "Mathilde" and Andre Previn's "You're Gonna Hear from Me" on solo debut Scott to the man who crafted the smokestack industrial bleakness of "Bouncer See Bouncer..." and "Face on Breast" on his 1995 masterpiece Tilt. Talk about a departure. Yet his period with fictional brothers Gary and John is typically ignored altogether even though it was by far his most productive time chartwise and wasn't really all that different from his early solo work.

While there has been a steady stream of UK acts who became stars in the US while being little-known back home (The Zombies and Bush are perhaps the two most famous examples), there seem to be fewer who managed to do the reverse. Basically it's The Walker Brothers and Sparks, the longtime duo comprised of real life brothers Ron and Russell Mael. The Walkers did have a fleeting period in which they looked to become big in North America, however, and it was with "Make It Easy on Yourself" that they made their first splash.

Over on Tom Ewing's Popular page, many of the comments accompanying the review of "Make It Easy on Yourself" seem to suggest that Scott Walker is an unconvincing lead singer. I'd agree but that's sort of the case with a lot of his material, especially in the sixties. He could always convince the listener that being Scott Walker was an experience in itself but as for what he did with the lyrics he was presented with, that's another matter. He keeps his cards close to his chest and it's impossible to say whether that's by design or not. The late Jerry Butler's original, by contrast, goes heavy on the emotion as he tries to be as understanding as any spurned man has ever been. Well, scratch that. I remember the first time I was dumped and at one point I tried the highroad tactic (and, no, it didn't help my cause any).

Ambiguous though it no doubt is, The Walker Brothers' version of "Make It Easy on Yourself" is stronger than Butler's. Scott's nougatty tenor alone makes it worthwhile but there's also the hint of a dark side that reveals itself which may be an indication that this isn't as benevolent a song as we might think. It isn't quite at the level of Scott 3 and Scott 4, let alone his recordings from his radical, old-age renaissance, but it certainly gives everyone an indication that a major talent was coming up — even if very few would stick around to hear the end results. Their loss.

Score: 7

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Hey! Where's...?

1965 has been quite the year for should've been RPM number ones so it's only right that it ought to wrap up with yet another pop injustice. The Byrds were a remarkably creative and influential group, one that changed its sound an awful lot considering they were such an inspiration to generations of boring old power pop groups. But they were never as successful as they should've been. Still, at least in the US they had a pair of number one hits with "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn! Turn! Turn!" respectively which is more than can be said north of the border. Coming up short to the Walkers isn't such a travesty but there are a couple of duds coming up that I wish it could've pushed out of the way. But at least it stood a chance as opposed to all those stunning Byrds' singles to come that didn't get a chart placement at all. Where the justice for "Have You Seen Her Face"?