Tried So Hard

Yes, there's something hilarious about a member of the Byrds (who were originally called the Jet Set) being kicked out of the band due to a fear of flying. But Gene Clark's story isn't quite that simple. If you're feeling motivated, head over here for some Gene Clark tracks and thematically similar items of interest. Might make for good listening while reading along. You'll know it's time to turn the page when you hear the chimes ring like this.

Like his more famous former bandmate Roger McGuinn, Gene Clark started out as a devoted practitioner of folk music, getting his start with the New Christie Minstrels in the early sixties. Also like McGuinn, Clark had a moment of epiphany when he first heard the Beatles and abandoned straight folk to develop a hybrid of folk and rock (although pop would probably be a more accurate term) he heard inherent in the Beatles' sound.

Despite being the Byrds' most talented and prolific songwriter, Clark was always low man on the totem within the band. For starters, manager Jim Dickson preferred McGuinn's voice to Clark's, particularly for the Dylan covers that scored the band its first hits. A soft-spoken and nervous cat, Clark was outshined and slightly bullied by his bandmates. There's a story about the band's earliest days as the Byrds. With his first advance check in hand, Gene Clark went out and bought himself a brand new red guitar. At the time, Crosby could barely play guitar and played tambourine, but after someone made a crack about how he looked on stage, Crosby stole Clark's guitar and declared himself the Byrds' rhythm guitarist.

On top of that, Clark was making more money than anyone else in the band, since he was writing most of the songs and receiving most of the royalties. This created bitterness within the band, especially from Crosby. But what ultimately did Clark in was anxiety. Keep in mind, the Byrds were really huge. On par with the Beatles and the Stones for a little bit and arguably the biggest American band of the mid-sixties. Clark was never much for the spotlight and hated traveling. The band's incessant touring schedule proved too much and he left the band after two albums, later rejoining for three weeks before suffering a panic attack attempting to board a plane.


The first track here, the classic "Eight Miles High" is a bit of an oddity. The songwriting credit is shared by Crosby, McGuinn and Clark, although the melody is unmistakably Clark's. The noodling guitar stylings reflect Crosby's growing interest in raga, which wouldn't come to a head until The Notorious Byrd Brothers, after Clark had left the group. But notice the strength of Clark's vocals, particularly when gilded by McGuinn and Crosby's high harmonies. McGuinn's thinner tenor was perfectly suited for harmonizing, although his ear for harmony couldn't match Crosby.

"Feel a Whole Lot Better" is Clark fully out front and was one of the early non-cover hits for the Byrds.

The next couple tracks are from Echoes, essentially a solo album aided by a slew of other folks from the LA scene, including some of the Byrds. Most of these tracks were intended for the Byrds anyway and share sensibilities with earlier efforts. But while McGuinn and Crosby drifted into eastern music, Gene Clark began to explore country music with an earnestness mostly lacking from the Byrd's first country effort, Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Clark gives the impression of not just learning country songs, but absorbing them into his musical vocabulary. The songs are inflected with a sense of humor that isn't the hokey performance of McGuinn's take on the Louvin Brothers' "The Christian Life", but the glee of a songwriter finding a new set of toys. The heartfelt regret of "Set You Free This Time" is complimented nicely by the nearly goofy "Elevator Operator".

If you really concentrate, you can totally sing Hubcap's "Birthday Song" along with "Here Without You". Try it.

The real prize here, though, is Clark's "Tried So Hard". While it suffers from muffled production, with the guitars trampling Clark's mildly trembling George Jones delivery, the power and economy of the song is undeniable: it's as swift, brutal and efficient as a Willie Nelson composition. Also included here is the Yo La Tengo cover from Fakebook, which ups the bounce and loses a little of the pathos in the process.

Finally, I've been trying to clean up my recording of Clark's No Other from 1975. Eight tracks long and...well, bizarre. Clark claimed he was going for a "Cosmic motown" sound, but the limp funk basslines and fuzzy vocals that permeate the album make it more of a cult object than anything else. Touring for the album, Clark shared a couple bills with McGuinn and Chris Hillman of the Byrds. Apparently the three got along well enough to join up again, releasing a few albums as McGuinn/Hillman/Clark. This is indicative of how the LA scene worked through the seventies: former allstars on the circuit paired up for albums that sold moderately well and have gone mostly unremembered.

Clark's unreliability and drug use eventually got him ousted from the group and in 1989, Clark would make the ill-advised decision to tour with former Byrds drummer (and one time Burrito Brother) Michael Clarke as "A 20th Anniversary Celebration of the Byrds". This billing, occasionally shortened to just the Byrds, got Clark and Clarke sued by all three of the other original Byrds, although the group managed to get together on stage for their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Unfortunately, by that time Gene Clark's health was in poor shape. An influx of royalties from Tom Petty's cover of "Feel a Whole Lot Better" on Full Moon Fever was spent restarting Clark's drug habit and 1991 he passed away from a collection of ailments.