The Byrds and I (Part Four)

If you have not read parts 1-3, they are as follows -
1). Mr. Tambourine Man
2). Turn! Turn! Turn!
3). Fifth Dimension
It is a series of essays that tell the story of my life through each album from my favorite band. I eventually hope to turn it into a full-fledged memoir and documentary film.

Part Four: Younger than Yesterday (1967), The Best of the Byrds (1967), and Blur's Think Tank (2003)

My education on the Byrds first came from my father, and for the most part it involved the band's first four albums. I did skip ahead a little to 1968's Sweetheart of the Rodeo but, in general, my knowledge of post-1967 Byrds was seriously lacking. While I distinctly recall placing each of those four records on the turntable, it seems the only songs I recall actually listening to fell on the 12 track Greatest Hits album. Thankfully, this meant that there would be many Byrds songs to discover in later years that would ultimately take on new meaning. As I (now in the 4th grade) compiled my Byrds mixtape, I imagine it was heavy on Mr. Tambourine Man, and only two songs from Younger than Yesterday were included - "My Back Pages" (yet another Dylan cover) and "So, You Want to Be a Rock and Roll Star" (a rather clever little jab at the record industry). Making that mixtape and a trip to the park with my brother and my dad are what I believe to be my last happy memories of my dad living in our house.

A couple years later, I was staying at my father's apartment for the weekend, and we got caught up in the frequent act of me pulling out records and him telling me the stories behind them. The record in question was Younger than Yesterday, and the song was "Renaissance Fair." It is essentially a brilliant summation of the "Summer of Love" - "I smell cinnamon and spices, I hear music everywhere, all around, kaleidoscope of colors," they sing, building up to, "I think that maybe I'm dreaming." My dad then pulled out an Animals compilation to play "Monterrey" - a tribute to the claasic 1967 rock festival - in which singer Eric Burdon adopted "I think that maybe I'm dreaming" for his chorus, as an homage. My dad then went into a story about attending the Monterrey Pop Festival and - from what I was hearing - 1967 had to be the coolest year imaginable. A quartet once again for Younger than Yesterday, the distinct personalities of McGuin, Hillman and Crosby all show up. Crosby is getting dark and moody on the lovely "Everybody's Been Burned," while Hillman's leanings tend to be of the country variety. Of course, the harmonies are still tight as ever, especially on the georgeous "Have You Seen Her Face." Less psychedelic than Fifth Dimension, Younger than Yesterday successfully perfects the best elements of the band's past while largely hinting at what is yet to come.

"So You Want to Be a Rock 'n Roll Star"


My love for and continuous discovery of the Byrds has been never-ending, yet as I hit my twenties, another philosopher of the musical variety emerged to stand nearly alongside Roger McGuin. Like McGuin, Damon Albarn has an undying love for music and his desire to trace its roots and histories and create something entirely new puts him on par as far as I'm concerned. I did not initially get into Blur, as they did not find much success on American radio. I picked up a Best of in 2001, yet I my interested piqued around the time of Gorillaz. I've always appreciated and sought out music that transcends genres and - while I did not love all of Gorillaz - I greatly appreciated the contribution. My junior year I would track down a record of songs Albarn recorded in Mali, while I eagerly awaited the release of Think Tank.

My first two years of college were not quite all that I had hoped. I was not necessarily happy with the social group I'd fallen into my freshman year, while neither of my relationships had really ended positively. Towards the end of my sophomore year, two friendships developed into the most important ones I've ever had, and though I was beginning to get comfortable expressing myself as a filmmaker, I questioned whether or not I could handle my third year. That year I was taking over a student organization known as the Art Collective, as I had sought to form my own artistic community since having my film career shaped my freshman year in Alex Juhasz' Independent Film Cultures class. That fabled junior year, my life would become one ridiculously thrilling non-stop movement. I planned art shows and concerts on nearly a weekly basis; I read Greil Marcus' Lipstick Traces and got really into situationism and artistic subversion; I spent months obsessively editing a political short called Dailogue One: Consumption; I stayed up all night on a regular basis; drank heavily on weekends with my close friends; missed classes ... but just simply did not stop. It was as if I was making up for all the time I spent lost in my own head.

As the last week of the school year approached, so did the release date of Think Tank. I had completely altered my sleep schedule as to finish a ten page paper on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Early one morning, I'd finished the first five pages and set out to Rhino Records for the new Blur. I waited outside for the store to open, bought the cd and immediately put it into my discman. I was taken right away with the lovely opener, "Ambulance," but it was "On the Way to the Club" that I would ultimately play over and over. After several spins, I eventually fell asleep in the early afternoon. When I awoke hours later, I planned to attend a campus event. It was there that I had my first real conversation with Hillary. I had learned earlier that evening that Hillary was planning on writing her senior thesis on Buffy and instantly I wanted to know her much better. I can't say we talked for too long and love did not initially blossom then, but when I returned three months later, there was really only one girl I hoped to get to know. Alas, my year wrapped up and I walked away with an odd feeling of accomplishment, as if the path for my life had not only been set on the right track, but was actually going somewhere - fast. Fittingly it was all summed up by my two heroes - "I ain't got nothing to be scared of," sings Albarn on "Ambulance," while McGuin, Hillman and Crosby harmonize, "I think that maybe I'm dreaming."

"Ambulance," Blur