And then there were two...

There was an interesting vibe to the ex-Byrds' reaction to the failure of their reunion endeavors, whether it was the Byrds Reunion Album or the McGuinn-Clark-Hillman era. Roger McGuinn was ultra-defensive and constantly complained how it was all everyone else's fault. Chris Hillman quickly went to auto-derision, mocking and sometimes poo-poohing his own contributions (and sometimes, the others). And Gene Clark was always the one to take a measured point of view, admitting that things could have been done better, but that there were good things on those albums. 

I was thinking of also doing something with the McGuinn-Hillman album to finish off the era, but there are few alternatives to choose from and if stuff like McGuinn's b-side "Making Movies" are any indication, there isn't much better quality music to be had. Plus, the album isn't that bad, if slick, R&B-flavored L.A. rock is something that you like. The album has of course another 'McGuinn's master plan that didn't turn out as planned' legend attached, relegated to the dust pile of history like his century of American-music spanning concept album or his hippie musical Gene Tryp. According to him, he and Hillman had written twelve themed songs centered around the idea of entertainment, but Chris' brother-in-law and co-producer Jerry Wexler "said we had to go for hits and threw out most of the material." In a slightly later interview, McGuinn exagerrated for framatic, albeit unintended humorous effect when he talked about him and Hillman having written "hundreds of songs" but Wexler "didn't let us get any of them on there. He was trying for quote, unquote, 'hits', and we didn't get any".  

Oh boy, do we look natural and comfortable here. You can't even see the gun just outside the frame...

Which brings me back to the observations I made in the opening paragraph. McGuinn complained about not getting his idea of a concept album about entertainment, but if the three surviving songs of that concept are any indication, there isn't really much room for improvement. "Entertainment" is merely okay, "Making Movies" with McGuinn as a fey folkie is terrible to my mind and only "Turn Your Radio On" is pretty good. The hit rate isn't great, and considering that no other songs from McGuinn's famed song-cycle ever slipped out, as live tracks, outtakes or re-recordings, it's highy doubtful that all these songs were there in the first place, or that they were worth much of anything. 

Hillman might have ridiculed the sound and track selection of the album retrospectively ("You couldn't get any whiter guys than me or McGuinn to sing this r&b material"), but he actually acquits himself quite well on McGuinn-Hillman. Here's the secret to Hillman's status as both one of the best second bananas in rock'n'roll history and his various stylistic excursions: He has kind of a bland, if lovely, singing voice, which means it is not super memorable, but that also means it is quite malleable. Hillman can pretty much sing anything with that voice. Which means that him being recast as a rhythm'n'blues singer on McGuinn-Hillman isn't as akward as it sounds. As a matter of fact, he does a good job. And it's easy to forget, but he already dabbled in r&b material quite a bit on The Flying Burrito Brothers' live swan song Last Of The Red Hot Burritos. McGuinn is clearly less comfortable with this material, even though "Angel" and "Love Me Tonight" are pretty neat. 

This time it's Rog who's in pyjamas...

Looking back at the McGuinn-Clark-Hillman era, it seems pretty obvious that Hillman best understood the assignment. Even though he would more or less disavow the entire era and its music, the idea of writing commercial pop and rock songs suited him best, while McGuinn the ex-folkie and Clark, the still-and-ever folk singer songwriter struggled with the idea, sometimes mightily. 

As a bonus to the untouched McGuinn-Hillman album I have added "Making Movies" and a really nice radio appearance for CBS studios in New York in 1981, in which they perform as an acoustic duo, which means McGuinn is much more comfortable. Though ostensibly still supporting McGuinn-Hillman, they don't play a single song from the album, instead bringing out nice versions of a bunch of Byrds classics, City's fabulous "Let Me Down Easy" and two numbers from the first MCH album, as well as a poem adaptation, "America For Me" which is quite lovely. As ill-begotten as some of the MCH misadventures were, this concert is a nice way of saying goodbye to the era, with the two remaining ex-Byrds comfortably bringing up their old and recent past.