Update

Hello everyone,

I apologize for disappearing after only posting part one of my planned three-part series on "Your Fire Burning," but as I'm sure you can appreciate, things got very scary and very surreal for me—and very quickly—at the outset of the ongoing Covid-19 crisis. Parts two and three have been set aside for now, but I have every intention of finishing them later in the year.

During the lockdown, I have used the time to work on some pet projects that are near and dear to me, two of which are related to Gene Clark:

Bill Rinehart story

Above: Bill Rinehart (far left);  Gene Clark,
Joel Larson, and Chip Douglas

I've resumed work on my story about the late Bill Rinehart, who was a close associate of Gene's throughout the bulk of 1966, and played a pivotal role in the Sunset Strip scene, as a member of the Leaves, the Gene Clark Group and the Merry-Go-Round. Bill's is a wild, if ultimately sad, tale, but one I feel compelled to tell. During his peak years of 1965-1972, Bill partied with and performed alongside some of the biggest stars of the time, including Sonny and Cher, Dave Mason, Cass Elliott, Leon Russell, Rick Danko, the Wrecking Crew, and many more.

Bill Rinehart, 1968

What I've found most interesting about Bill's life and career is that time and again, there was really no situation so perfect, and so clearly demonstrative of fate's benevolent, intercessory hand seeking to ensure his stars were perfectly aligned for success—that he wouldn't go out of his way to scupper. I am not romanticizing Bill's propensity for self-sabotage, simply documenting it, while allowing those who best knew him to posit their theories.

Roadmastery (Echoes newsletter)

The fab graphic for Roadmastery created by Indigo Mariana

On a lighter note, I'm very excited about a new column I'm contributing to Echoes, the Gene Clark newsletter, published by Indigo Mariana aka Neon Brambles (Gene-Clark.com). I want to thank her for giving me the opportunity to indulge my fondness for researching the picayune pockets of Gene's recording career.

What is Roadmastery?
One of the first things you learn on the road to becoming a hardcore Gene Clark fan is that nothing, and I mean nothing, goes in a perfect, straight line. There is no logical flow to anything; no starting at A, heading to B.  Because heading down the road to B, just when you think you’ve got a firm grasp on the wheel and the destination in sight, another fact suddenly emerges to throw you off course.

If you’re truly committed to taking a deep dive into Gene’s recorded output, you’re guaranteed to find exceptions, anomalies and curiosities at every turn. This isn’t a “One Way Road”—it’s a fascinating, labyrinthine journey of a lifetime, replete with innumerable twists, turns, U-turns along the way—and, as we’ll see, some mysterious diversions akin to cozy cul-de-sacs.

So far I've contributed three columns, which I'd like to invite to read (you can also subscribe!)

Echoes March 2020 issue: 
The Trip from The American Dreamer (1971) to The Farmer (1977)

Echoes April 2020 issue:
Uncovering the covers: the circa ’85 demos

Echoes May 2020 issue: 
Seventh Avenue Train (aka Hula Bula Man, Hula Mula Man)

In memoriam: Kelly Eugene Clark (1971 - 2020)

Lastly, I want to dedicate this blog entry to the memory of Kelly Eugene Clark, Gene's eldest son, who passed away recently.
To Kai, Amber, Indy, and all members of the Clark family, I wish to extend my deepest condolences.

Grace of peace come over us.