Wanted: Clyde "Skip" Battin, Classic Country Rock Band Killer

I know, that's a little mean, but is it entirely unwarranted? If you are a classic country rock band in the 70s, and you're thinking of giving Skip Battin a call to join your group of merry men...well, I got some bad news for you...your band is in creative decline, and it's probably terminal. Battin, by all accounts a jovial, easy-going guy that would fit easily into your band was also, unwillingly and accidentally no doubt, a harbinger of doom for the bands that hired him.  

Think about it: He joined The Byrds, and while he actually held up the most stable, and longest-lasting line-up in the volatile history of that band, the Battin years are usually considered a long, at the end drastic decline. Those of you who have followed my Byrds retrospective via alternate albums know that I have a special love for the twilight Byrds, but there is no denying that Battin contributed some of the all-time worst songs the band ever put to tape, and well...those Byrds were goners. After the demise of the CBS Byrds, a new country rock band came calling - The New Riders Of The Purple Sage. They had just come off one of their most popular and by most accounts best albums, The Adventures Of Panama Red, a year before and after a stop gap live album set out to work on their new studio album, Brujo. Result, largely helped by four (including three back-toback!) novelty songs of the infamous Kim Fowley-Skip Battin combo: arguably the worst album to date by the band and an ongoing quality decline through the last years of recording for Columbia. 

Jump to 1976: The re-formed Flying Burrito Brothers have made a respectable, better than expected 'comeback' album. The reviews are scathing, though (mainly based on the impression of usurping and sullying the band name, despite the group having two original members, just not the right ones), and band founder Chris Ethridge quits in disgust. And who is that wondering through the door to replace him? Why, it's ol' Skip Battin, to rejoin old comrade Gene Parsons (who would only stay for that one common album). Result: The following album Airborne was anything but and took a huge nosedive, quality-wise, compared to its predecessor. At least Battin had no songs on that album. 

Anyway, enough of that, even though the point is hard to argue. As a steady hand, Battin's presence was appreciated by those bands, with problems coming up as soon as he mentioned that he and Kim had written a couple of songs to look at...But, for a brief moent in between band adventures, Battin was also for the briefest time a solo artist. Right after being fired by McGuinn in 1972, he issued his solo album Skip for Columbia, and invited his old Byrds band members to play on it. Most mischieviously, he had Roger McGuinn add his typical 12-string Rickenbacher sound to "Captain Video", the standout track, which was also a really funny send up of McGuinn, who was very likely oblivious to that very fact: "They call me Captain Soul, but I'm Captain Video!"

And yet, that sole album from 1972, later joined by two solo discs in the early and mid-80s that were issued in Italy only, had a real follow-up, to come out less than a year after Skip. An ambitious plan foresaw a huge country rock revue touring the U.S. in the fall of 1973, including both ex-Byrds Parsons (Gram and Gene), Battin, fellow ex-Byrd Clarence White and bluegrass group Country Gazette (whose members were part of the last Hilllan-led Flying Burrito Brother line-up). Every one of the participants was to bring out an album to tour behind. Now, that huge country rock tour - a sort of 'Rolling Thunder Revue' od Byrds alumni and associates - never took place, for reasons not everyone agrees on, though various mayors voting against the presence of hippie longhairs in their repsectable towns might have played a role in it. A huge damper on things was of course Clarence White's senseless death in July 1973, when he was hit and killed by a dunk driver. White was working on his own solo album that was never to be, and was also scheduled to go into the studio mere days later to support old comrade Battin on his second studio album. 

Despite everyone being shocked and in giried by the sudden loss of White, the session stook place, with members of  Country Gazette, the aforementioned Chris Ethridge, Clarence's brother Roland, Herb Petersen and, replacing White, Al Perkins, then from the Souther-Hillman-Fury Band. An L.A. country rock all-star band that convened to cut a number of bluegrass standards as well as a number of typically skewed Battin-Fowley originals, before the project was finally abandoned. No tour, no album...thus Battin joining the New Riders Of The Purple Sage. For almost forty years that abandoned second album by Battin existed only in the memory of the players, before finally being issued by Byrds-associated act specialist Sierra. Topanga Skyline finally saw the light of day in 2012. 

But it was an album presentation  that was not entirely successful or well-thought out: To bolster the skimpy runing time of a little more than half an hour - feasible in 1973, but unreasonable for the CD age - Sierra Records added the two most country-ish tracks from Skip's real second solo album, 1981's Navigator (featuring other Flying Burrito Brothers founding member Sneaky Pete Kleinow on pedal steel). Two different takes on the standard "Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms" were unceremoniously glued together. And a snatch of "Old Mountain Dew" showed up as a hidden bonus track, glued to an ill-fitting partner. There is good work and some very fine music on this album, but the presented form just missed the mark. 

Enter the One Buck Guy. Here is Topanga Skyline in the way it could have come out in 1973. No bonus tracks from a decade later, only songs recorded in 1973. A more balanced sequencing. And a rightful place for "Old Mountain Dew" and that second, rather loose take on "Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms". These two tracks, taken from a demo/jam session are believed to be the very last rceordings of Clarence White before his untimely death. So while technically, they might not be as good as the rest of the album, they have their place as a reminder of what everyone lost when Clarence died, and a tribute to White. 

As for the music: The playing of some of the finest that the L.A. country rock scene has to offer is the highlight here, while Battin's idiosyncratic songs and lead vocals are spirited, but definitely a bit of an acquired taste. If you liked Battin in The Byrds, Burritos or New Riders Of The Purple Sage, you'll like this, and if you like bluegrass and country rock, or any of the bands mentioned thus far, then you'll probably like this as well. The obvious highlight here is a truly inspired reworking of bubblegum hit single "Hully Gully", that just stomps out the original. That one is almost worth the price of admission alone, though Battin also delivers some fine ballads with the beautiful "Relax With Me" and "Wintergreen", and holds up his end of the bargain when plowing through "Foggy Mountian Top" or "Salty Dog Blues". 

Woof, that write-up got a little long there, whoops. So, let's cut the chit-chat and join Battin in a bluegrass-flavored trip to that Topanga Skyline...