'If I Hang Around' Part 2

 If I Hang Around

Your hair hangs down, covers your eyes

If I hang around should I sympathize?

Your hungry look, not said to despise

If I hang around should I sympathize?

And some day you're gonna think about it some more

You're gonna toss your head and remember what loving is for.

Cycle surrender detachment from what you can see

If I hang around should I make you think I would leave?

Paraffin pastel printings that you believe

If I hang around should I find future to leave?

And some day you're gonna think about it some more

You're gonna toss your head and remember what loving is for.

Super-insensitive reaching out for the sun

If I hang around should I say I've only begun?

Perceptive protection perceiving no wrong is meant done,

If I hang around should I say you're the only one?

Some day you're gonna think about it some more

You're gonna toss your head and remember what loving is for.

DISCLAIMER: The following is an imaginative interpretation of Gene Clark's 'If I Hang Around'.  Accordingly, this piece is written with the intent to provoke further discussion of Clark's brilliant if, at times impenetrable, poetry, with a view towards deepening appreciation of the man and his music.
Any historical significance ascribed to the lyrics of 'If I Hang Around' is made for purposes of establishing a contextual foundation upon which possible meaning(s) for Clark's often abstruse lyrics may be undertaken.  
It is, or should be, readily and implicitly understood that the author makes no claim of historical veracity for any assertions made herein, nor does he intend to besmirch or impugn the character of any person or persons, dead or alive.

Romance & Ceromancy: 
“If I Hang Around” (Part 2)

If one of the envisioned outcomes of Gene Clark’s tactical retreat from the limelight of The Byrds was a simpler, less complicated life, then his decision in mid 1966 to embark upon an illicit affair with Michelle Phillips of the Mamas & the Papas effectively scuppered any such plans.

That Gene suffered some kind of life-changing psychological event in the aftermath of his split from the Byrds is patently obvious.  Knowing what we know today about the soul-eviscerating effects of clinical depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the best place for Gene in early 1966 was, without question, a mental facility.

But instead he went to the next best place.

Something’s Wrong

Following his failure to get on that plane to New York – and its repercussions both immediate and long-term – Gene followed his instincts: he returned home to see his family in early 1966.*  Perhaps if he had stayed for a longer period of time he might have rebuilt his decimated psyche, but he made the fateful decision to return to L.A. and form the Gene Clark Group.**

And it was during this time that Gene met Michelle through their mutual friend, Cyrus Faryar, of the Modern Folk Quartet, and the two embarked upon their brief romance. For Gene, battered and vulnerable, still in the throes of his post-Byrds meltdown, the timing could not have been worse.  Oh, the idyllic notion of Gene and Michelle speeding through Laurel Canyon in the summer of 1966 in Steve McQueen’s old Ferrari seems like the quintessential rock fantasy, for sure.  And yet, the reality appears to have been something much darker for Gene.

Reportedly wracked with guilt and shame over the relationship, Gene saw Michelle in secret (indeed, there are no published photographs of the couple together).  Whatever comforts he doubtless found with Michelle were just as powerfully counteracted by the festering conflict within him, exacerbated by his fragile psychological state. 

The relationship was doomed from the get-go, and yet Gene saw it through, conflicted all the while, and waited for Michelle to end it – which she did, following his controversial appearance at a Mamas and the Papas gig that June.

Bearing all these things in mind -- and for purposes of imaginatively ascribing Gene's often abstruse musings to a particular historical event in the hope of  what follows will be my imaginative interpretation of the lyrics of  ‘If I Hang Around’ was written in the immediate fallout of their tryst. (We’ll never know, of course, but it’s possible that songs like ‘Tried So Hard,’ ‘Think I’m Gonna Feel Better,’ and ‘Needing Someone’ reflect his feelings on the affair as well.)

‘If I Hang Around’ oozes suspicion, guilt, mistrust, disillusionment, paranoia, self-doubt and indecisiveness.  In short, it captures Gene’s emotional instability at his darkest hour.

He was all of 21 years old at the time.

What Am I Doing Hangin’ Round?

Even the title of the song itself reflects the guilt of a still-young man indulging in adult pastimes. Employing a euphemism like “hang around” certainly sounds less offensive than something like “If I Make a Cuckold of John Phillips.” It also serves as an effort to fool himself; to downplay the seriousness of his actions.

But there is much more to the title than one might suspect.  Like the best of Gene’s lyrics, there is one significant word that acts as a crucial, game-changing qualifier.  Just as ‘I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better’ had its “probably”, this song has the word “If”.

For Gene, the term  “If I Hang Around” might refer to his inner torment and guilt, as if asking himself a question: “If I go through with this…” 

This idea is compounded by the appearance of yet another question in the same line: “Should I sympathize?”

The first line of the song (“Your hair hangs down, covers your eyes”) suggests a certain amount of insecurity on Gene’s part.  Is her head hung low out of a sadness requiring sympathy (“Should I sympathize?”).  Or does the possibility exist that she knows the affair is merely a short-term diversion, a product of capricious lust, and deliberately averts her eyes to spare her own conscience?  This insecurity leads him to ask once again, “Should I sympathize?” – only this time the meaning is quite different: he’s wondering whether he should bother to involve himself in someone else’s marital troubles at all.

The second verse further chronicles the woman’s changeable nature.  One moment she surrenders to her passions, but just as quickly extricates herself from the situation (presumably a reference to her entrance/departure from Gene’s bedroom and subsequent return to her marital bed).

The repetitive process of surrender/detachment irks him.  Clearly he feels he’s being manipulated, and so he considers fomenting his own retreat in a bid to turn the tables and make her feel insecure: “Should I make you think I would leave?”

Paraffin pastel printings

Nascent New Age notions of astrology, tarot card readings and the like certainly found favour among the Hippie counter-culture; certainly candle wax readings would have fit right into this mentality.  Now picture Gene and Michelle going for one of these readings at her behest.  The distain for the fortune-telling “paraffin pastel printings” is as palpable as his frustration with her unflinching belief in their accuracy.  Her naïve insistence in believing in the random wax droppings leaves him wondering if this is her way of laying the foundation for their eventual breakup with a view towards absolving herself (“Should I find future to leave?”).

Musically, this song could have fit in nicely on either Younger Than Yesterday or With the Gosdin Brothers. Even as an unadorned acoustic demo, the song’s potential is palpable.  Imagine Crosby’s ethereal harmonies floating atop Gene’s solemn lead, McGuinn’s softly plucked Rickenbacker, and some tender harpsichord.

Even without these elements, a sense of gloom permeates the song.  For anyone, but especially a celebrity, a clandestine relationship requires forethought, secretiveness, shadows, drawn curtains and alibis.  Apart from the time they spent in bed, it must have been a suffocating, claustrophobic experience for Gene.

And yet, as the final verse tells us, he chastises her for leaving their love nest for the light of day (“Super-insensitive reaching out for the sun”).  It is a typical Clarkian quandary: the place that brings most happiness is a place of darkness and isolation from the outside world.

Gene’s fondness for cutting alliterative description appears again in the brilliant line, “Perceptive protection perceiving no wrong is meant done.”  He believes Michelle has devised a way to detach herself from responsibility of having cheated on her husband and ended the affair. She believes she is able to protect her reputation and maintain her self-respect simply because all the while she meant no harm to anyone, not John Phillips nor Gene.  She has granted herself absolution and left Gene holding the bag.

In a final, desperate plea to salvage a hopeless situation, he wonders if offering his troth might somehow forestall the inevitable (“If I hang around, should I say you’re the only one?”).  But by putting it in the form of a question, it appears even he remains unconvinced of what he’s saying.  He’s asked yet another in a series of questions instead of making a convincing statement.

The two-line chorus seems to be little more than an empty kiss-off, an impotent threat, which in effect says, “I’m going to haunt you.  You’re going to remember these days and regret having ended it”:

“Someday you’re gonna think about it some more

You’re gonna toss your head and remember what loving is for.”

But the “it” of the chorus might just as easily refer to their passionate moments of intimacy.  She will of course move on to other lovers, but at some future time, when alone in private thoughts of sexual reminiscence, she will think of him and lament the loss of their relationship, notwithstanding the prophecies written in candle wax.

And so while I made the earlier assertion that ‘If I Hang Around’ reveals its author as suspicious, guilty, mistrustful, disillusioned, paranoid and indecisive, he somehow evinces remarkable insight in the intricate workings of their relationship.

‘If I Hang Around’ is further evidence that while Gene was burdened with the debilitating effects of his still-fresh despair following his departure from the Byrds, he could always turn to his music and poetry as a means of explaining the mysterious complexities of romantic relationships with remarkable lucidity and intense passion.  

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

*There is something incredibly moving about this act of retreat.  I suggest you re-read the quote from Rick Clark in the Einarson book about this period, as he explains it with the knowledge only a brother could possess.

**The Gene Clark Group was, like the Sings for You demos, the musical embodiment of Gene’s indecisiveness during this period: He had no concrete vision for the band, nor was he able to express what he wanted from Chip, Joel and Bill.  

My Sincere Thanks to Readers of The Clarkophile

I'm pleased to report that, since the inception of The Clarkophile in 2008, it has currently reached a total of 25,393 visits and 43,379 page views.  When I conceived the idea, I remember thinking I would be the only one visiting the site.

Thanks for proving me wrong.

Obviously, Gene Clark is much more popular than many of us (including myself) had ever imagined.  

I really appreciate your taking the time to let me know your thoughts about Gene's music.


Thanks for the support and the comments!  

'If I Hang Around' Part 1

Gene Clark in '66/'67: Caught between the Byrd he was, and the poet he was becoming.

'If I Hang Around'

1966 demo recording, released on Byrd Parts 2, Raven Records 2003

Post-Byrds/pre-Dillard & Clark disillusionment

As mentioned in my earlier discussion of the Gene Clark Sings for You acetate, it is now painfully apparent that, after his hasty departure from The Byrds, Gene simply had no clear-cut direction in which to take his music in furtherance of a serious solo career.

Einarson makes it very clear that although Gene recorded extensively throughout this period, the material he came up with (outside of the uniformly excellent tracks on his debut, of course – although these too run a gamut of stylistic explorations) positively reeked of disillusionment, crippling self-doubt, lack of focus/follow-through, and general confusion.

The Sings for You material featured one nicely produced orchestral track (‘That’s Alright By Me’), alongside seven other dubiously produced, clumsily performed outings, wherein Gene’s melodies could be clunky, out of tune and monotonous (‘7:30 Mode’), lazy and undistinguished (‘One Way Road’), or simply carelessly assembled and shoddily performed (‘Past My Door’). 

A lyricist of consequence

The lyrics, however, are another matter entirely.  Impeccably written, full of abstruse musings, ornate descriptions and complex, multi-layered wordplay that asked the listener to tease out meanings like some kind of biographical puzzle, it is easy to picture Gene sitting down to write these songs with a pen and paper.  It is altogether more difficult to picture him sitting with his guitar to write these songs.  At times, the music seems like no more than an afterthought.

Somewhere between the lavishly detailed, disciplined poetry of the Sings for You material, and the callous disregard evident in its subsequent recording, there was some form of disconnect; one that prevented Gene’s muse from reconciling his established reputation as the master of minor-key melancholia with his astonishing emergence as a lyricist of consequence.

“...akin to Dylan singing in front of the Left Banke”

Similarly, other forays into the studio produced a mixed bag of also-rans, false starts and attempts to regroup/relaunch Gene’s career both prior to and after the commercial failure of the Gene Clark with the Gosdin Brothers debut.

The demos recorded by the Gene Clark Group in 1966 were deemed a disappointment by all involved, prompting Clark to quickly extricate himself from the situation.

In 1967, there was the dreamy and mysterious ‘Only Colombe’/’The French Girl’ 45 that sounded, as Sid Griffin so memorably put it, “akin to Dylan singing in front of the Left Banke.”   Notwithstanding their excellence, these tracks were deemed unsuitable, and plans for the single were aborted shortly before its projected release.

Then there were the three recordings (‘Yesterday Am I Right’ ‘Without You’ and ‘Don’t Let it Fall Through’) made at Gold Star, featuring Gene and trumpeter Hugh Masekela (along with Chris Hillman on bass), the results of which, according to John Einarson, were “bizarre.” 

Apart from ‘Only Colombe’/’The French Girl’ (as featured on the Echoes compilation, approved by Gene shortly before his death) none of this material would ever be revisited.  It was simply cast aside.

Gene’s batting average in the Byrds was pretty much unimpeachable.  He contributions to the first two Byrds’ albums oftentimes provided the most satisfying moments of otherwise uneven releases.  Gene’s songs gave Mr. Tambourine Man and Turn! Turn! Turn! their commercial appeal as well as their emotional depth; ‘Eight Miles High’ gave Fifth Dimension its backbone and one of the Byrds’ best-loved songs.

But in 1966 and 1967, estranged from both the Byrds and apparently his own muse, Gene was struggling.

So what from this era could be considered an unmitigated success?

‘If I Hang’ around is the answer. 

(Part 2 will follow)

Next instalment coming soon: If I Hang Around

The Kai Clark Band

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

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

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:

Home Run King

Lonely Saturday

In the Pines

Kansas City Southern

MaryLou