Pillars #1: Psychedelic Rock - The Byrds / Fifth Dimension (1966)

Question: I see this review is a Pillars entry. Why is this album so important to its genre?

Answer: Because it was the first commercially successful collection of psychedelic rock on a major label.

Yeah, there were psychedelic rumblings in other parts of the country that were notable in their own right. And yeah, I know, commercial success shouldn't be an indicator of a record's value. But sometimes marketability really matters, and that's the case here. The Byrds had a high profile as a successful folk-pop group. They were a friendly, smiling group with pleasant music that was popular on AM radio stations. They were on TV. They sold a lot of records. You can see where I'm going with this... friendly, popular, pleasant... and then BOOM. Like sneaking a party in through the back door, they dared to follow through on a new kind of music they believed in. They explored the fringes for the rest of us, and their major label distribution tapped an unprecedented audience. But that's enough about the social import, let's talk about the music.

Fifth Dimension has been called a transitional album because of the band's new found artistic control and spirit of experimentation, both accomplished within a pop song format. Fans of psychedelic pop music by Kevin Ayres, Pink Floyd, the Beau Brummels, the Pretty Things or the Beatles should take to this material very easily. The lineup is the same as before, minus Gene Clark. But the result is such a departure from the previous two albums that it feels like a whole new band. Indeed, with Crosby and McGuinn taking the helm, it almost was. Most notably, and thankfully, there isn't a single Bob Dylan cover. I like the Byrds' Dylan covers just fine, they're excellent, but when I listen to those first two records, for every Dylan cover, I can't stop thinking of at least one original Byrds tune that doesn't exist.

The side 1 opener "5D (Fifth Dimension)" sets the bar for the rest of the set. Its lyrics join the hands of faith and reason, explaining our universe through the Einsteinian lens, with grateful acceptance of its divine creator. As McGuinn related in So You Want to be a Rock and Roll Star, "5D was an ethereal trip into metaphysics, into an almost Moslem submission to an Allah, an almighty spirit, free-floating, the fifth dimension being the 'mesh' which Einstein theorized about. He proved theoretically - but I choose to believe it." The band's fans interpreted the lyrics as drug related, which caused an outcry and several bans from radio play. No publicity is bad publicity, right? The song's detractors only fueled its ascent, and it reached #44 on Billboard's Hot 100 -- a testament to the endurance of the new, more thoughtful variety of rock and roll that was being born.

"Mr. Spaceman," somewhat of a throwaway single upon the first listen, is one of my favorite Byrds tracks. It has been retained by McGuinn and is still part of his live repertoire. He claims Crosby didn't think the song should make the final cut because it wouldn't make any money. He thought his rocker "Hey Joe" was a better bet for a single. Thankfully, Crosby lost that argument. Its humorous lyrics describe nocturnal visitations by extraterrestrial life forms, and after insisting he is a peaceful being, the narrator pleads with them to take him off of the Earth. This is a pretty serious song. We Earthlings like to think no one can see us, that we're out here on the edge of the Milky Way all by our lonesome selves. But what if that wasn't true? Considering the spiritual sentiments expressed in "5D," the lyrics of "Hey Mr. Spaceman" take on a new tone. Consider your neighbors might live next door to your planet, too, and treat everyone as a member of the same family. You were created, you are never alone, and truth is but one point which is multiplied by fools..

"Eight Miles High" is another charting single with some killer guitar work by McGuinn. His intro lick and freakout solo are an attempt to play modally as John Coltrane was doing at that time. The guitar has its characteristic overdriven and clear ringing tone. McGuinn says it was a feat of production, running the guitar signal through a compressor before entering it directly into the board. Otherwise, as anyone who picks up a Ric will tell you, the guitar's tone is a resounding thud with little of the sustain integral to the Byrds' appeal. More of such droning, atonal psychedelic rock can be found in "What's Happening?!?!" Crosby penned the tune, which asks the immortal question of why anything exists. The sentiment expressed in the lyrics are interesting to me as an illustration of the differences between McGuinn and Crosby, the former having already answered the question posed by the latter.

There are other tracks which fill out the album and make it really nice to listen to. "I Come and Stand at Every Door" echoes Pete Seeger's performance as a response to the war in Vietnam, and a plea for peace. The Scottish folk ballad "Wild Mountain Thyme" is transmuted from the inertia of the social climate, or, rather, the symbolic discussion of death in its lyrics is for once accurately and with purpose put forth for a listener. The production of the track is lushly orchestrated with strings and plenty of fingerpicking from McGuinn. The album draws to a close with "2-4-2 Fox Trot," which steadfastly upholds the tradition of offbeat Byrds closers. It incorporates Crosby and McGuinn's mutual interest in airplanes and uses some cool sound effects of jet engines and radio transmissions over the refrain. It's an odd number and the lyrics beg the listener to ride the Lear jet. It's almost like asking listeners to get high... in the sky, that is. It's been my least favorite track until recently when I've come to really dig the sound effects as a sort of musical noise. So many incongruous sounds are merging at once, it's an adventurous technique to use in a pop song.

A final note: if you read my review and you also read Richie Unterberger's review on the dreaded All Music website, please ignore Mr. Unterberger's comments about how uneven the record is. So much criticism is a fine bit of hindsight but it says nothing for the other merits of the album that outweigh any problems of selection or sequencing. Fifth Dimension is still fun to listen to and it stands as a benchmark recording that was made in a hurry under special circumstances. It's very important as the transition between ephemeral pop simplicity and the deeper waters of a new musical style that would grow to have long lasting and cross-generational appeal. Please enjoy.

A meditation on musical cornerstones and pillars

In masonry, a cornerstone is the first stone to be laid in the foundation of a building. This is an important stone because it determines the position of all other stones in the structure, as well as the structure's position on the site. Throughout history and into more recent times, special and sometimes esoteric significance has been applied to the laying of a cornerstone. I once thought that a similar concept applied to various styles of music and specific musicians, composers, or recordings within the style. But that comparison isn't perfect, in fact, it's completely illegitimate. Preplanned construction is fundamentally different than a community of musicians all working independently, and at their own whim. Only later does anyone say they created a particular style. I guess my purpose is more like describing archetypes but to avoid dabbling in Hegelian philosophy, I'll draw a new comparison. How about... pillars. For anyone living under a rock, pillars are vertical structures that support other elements through static resistance. A style is like a structure, and the major works upholding the style are like pillars. There. Happy?

In the coming weeks I'll examine some of my favorite musical styles, and discuss recordings that I think are the pillars of those styles. I'll also review some recordings that have special value for being influential to other artists making similar music. I'll start with the PILLARS OF PSYCHEDELIC ROCK (sounds cool, doesn't it?), an international subgenre of rock and roll that I find endlessly fascinating. Stay tuned, please, and don't drop out... well, not yet, anyway.

10,000 Maniacs / MTV Unplugged (1993)

I first heard 10,000 Maniacs when I was young and a new kid named Dane moved in down the block. His parents were younger than mine and instead of having record collections laden with albums by the Beatles and Stones, they had a closet filled with cassette tapes of newer, different music that I had never heard. One afternoon we walked in the house and his mom was listening to the recently recorded 10,000 Maniacs MTV Unplugged. The song was "Hey Jack Kerouac" and I was hooked. Dane made fun of me for complementing his mom's wimpy acoustic music, although neither of us had any idea who Jack Kerouac was.

The Maniacs' studio output is superb, but the Unplugged set does a fine job of capturing the group's grown-up essence on disc. Some of what they do here, mostly the cuts from Our Time in Eden, are not a whole lot different than their studio counterparts. But other arrangements are a major departure from the jangly, danceable college rock we're all familiar with. I think it's a change which works well, and one which reflects the mature polish of band's final studio album. A dark mood pervades the disc that is better suited to expressing the songs' lyrical content. The occasion has a heavy atmosphere, inspiring a bittersweet feeling somewhere between a graduation and a funeral. That inertia could stem from Merchant's impending departure, marking an end to the band and the era. Either way, the theme of farewell is underscored by a solemn but joyful delivery, as well as the audience's gratuitous appreciation between tracks which seems to say thank you and goodbye all at once.

The group is supported by a modest orchestra of vocalists, strings, and winds, plus the mandolin, pipe organ, and slide guitar. This diverse ensemble is arranged with a nod to sparse utility, never overpowering Merchant's vocals or overpowering the songs themselves. Sophisticated contours of the Maniacs' trademark folk-pop hybrid are brought to the fore and the best qualities of the songwriting - interplay between melody and lyrics, vocalist and instrumentation - are laid before listeners with stark new contrasts of impact and subtlety. Each song has different instrumentation so listening to the whole album is very engaging and never monotonous. Songs like "Hey Jack Kerouac" and "Because the Night" are rendered with fresh enthusiasm and a rich new aural textures. "Eat for Two" is finally given a musical treatment that is appropriate for its lyrics. The performances are patient and relaxed, allowing the music plenty of space to bloom. For a recording of a taped television appearance, the audio quality is surprisingly good, too. 

For writing on other Maniacal topics, I recommend Don Ignacio's 10,000 Maniacs page.
To purchase this album on the format of your choice, try hitting up a seller at Discogs.com