The Byrds and I (Part Five)

It has been some time since my last entry in the Byrds and I series, in which I tell the story of my life through each album by my favorite band. Previous entries were...

1). Mr. Tambourine Man
2). Turn! Turn! Turn!
3). Fifth Dimension
4). Younger than Yesterday, Best of the Byrds Vol. 1 and Blur's Think Tank

Part 5: The Notorious Byrd Brothers (1968)

The Notorious Byrd Brothers is not a record my dad and I ever listened to - yet I can recall its cover rather well. This cover shows the band now as a trio - McGuinn, Hillman and Clarke, with a horse supposedly to represent the ousted David Crosby. Crosby was a bit frustrated with the band's decision to use another Dylan cover as the lead single, as well as the fact that his tale of a three-way relationship, "Triad," was going to be left off. Tension was also brewing with Clarke, who would depart shortly after the album's release. Turmoil or not, however, the record is still considered one of their best, displaying the country influence that would overtake them later in the year. "Wasn't Born to Follow" is the song I can most vividly remember hearing, and I believe it would later play a prominent role in the film Easy Rider. "Draft Morning" I would later discover in the Steven Soderbergh film The Limey - the film that made me want to be a filmmaker. And such is the nature of the Byrds and myself - discovering them early in childhood, yet no matter how far I step away, they find their way back around to influence my life - sometimes only as background music.

"Wasn't Born to Follow" (this is not an "official" Byrds video, but you get to hear the song)


I was probably 17 when The Limey struck me. Sometime earlier, I watched Out of Sight - which has a very similar editing structure - and got my first taste of experimental cinema. Being rather unhappy, it was bits of experimentation in art in which I found solace. When I discovered Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the WB, I finally was able to see something that reflected what I was going through. Thus, Buffy and my brother Charlie's Little League games were about the only think I looked foreword to.

I was really bummed I missed Charlie's first home run. I had a physiology test which I badly needed to study for, though if I'd known I would have failed it anyway, I wouldn't have even bothered. I also missed the third by just a few seconds, but most importantly, I caught the second - and this I consider one of the single greatest moments of my entire life. You see, I was never quite good at baseball - much to my father's disappointment, and gave up by the time I was ten. Teaching Charlie how to play was important, and we spent many a night in the nearby park competing against one another. This relationship forged over baseball would later become the centerpiece of my college admissions essay, which detailed my close relationship with my brother. Sitting in the bleachers with the team's dads, I became Charlie's male representative - and thus received credit when something went his way. Thankfully, this was a rather frequent occurrence. I must have been 15 or 16, which would make Charlie 10 or 11, and I remember he was playing on the Royals. The Royals entered the final inning trailing significantly, and Charlie was not due to bat anytime soon. Yet, something happened and the team managed to bat the whole way around - bringing Charlie up with two outs and representing the winning run. Now my mom and I were nervous as hell as we huddled in the bleachers blowing air onto our cold hands - though I know Charlie was not.

Before Charlie hit the home run, I already knew it had happened. A second before his bat hit the ball, time actually froze. This is the only time that such a thing has happened for me, but gave me the chance to savor what was about to happen for just a little longer. When I recall it, the stopping of time is very vivid. And then it was over, and the expressions of joy from my mother and I were incredible. Now it is great that my brother hit a game-winning home run, but the event was more important for what it symbolized. For my brother and his quiet confidence; for my mother raising him and I alone; and for myself, seeing my brother accomplish something I never had, letting me know that he was going to be alright. My brother has since gone on to accomplish a number of things I never have - and it makes me happy every time.