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"Mr. Tambourine Man" ushering the arrivals of Bobby D. and L.A. folk psychedelia via the big jingle jangle. The generational anthems "Turn Turn Turn" and "8 Miles High" drawn from varying shades of Sixties light and dark. The former stuffed full of hippie optimism and the latter (intentionally or not) an uneasy celebration of "Turn on, tune in, drop out." The breeding ground from which David Crosby would evolve and develop into Rock's version of Dennis Hopper (egotistical madness + flashes of outright brilliance + epic self-destruction). The birthing place of two of Rock's more interesting, enduring and tragic shadow players—Gram Parsons' celebrated rocket-fueled hayride and the even-more talented Gene Clark's pockmarked career of artistic triumph and soul-crushing commercial indifference. Finally, the spiritual launching pad of all things country rock—from the Eagles' billionaire machinery to Will Oldham's low-fi sexually explicit ruminations.
Somewhere Roger McGuinn, the big wheel of the hallucinogenic stew that was The Byrds, must smile and cry. Smile because their legacy is second to none. Cry, because outside of the critics' circle, a true giant has been reduced to nostalgia drapery while it should bask in the same afterglow accorded its peers.
Legacy's 4 CD/1 DVD boxed set There Is A Season stands to correct the mantel placement. In theory, it's a shinier and brighter version of Legacy's excellent 1990 box set The Byrds (which stands as one of the first great box sets). Both sets fully survey The Byrds' terrain, with Season serving up more of the earlier history with its pre-Byrds tracks and an accompanying DVD of mid-60's TV performances. The DVD is a disappointment though, as it sheds little light on the band's live prowess while chronicling lip-synched canned performances against the backdrop of the time's fashions (save for a great live version of "I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better" that features Gene Clark up front and center).
Given that The Byrds box had already been released, Season contains no new revelations. Its four CDs are divided chronologically: Disc One highlights the jangly rock-folk of the McGuinn/Clark Years. Disc Two extends from the LSD bomb of "Eight Miles High" into Crosby's flowering (before his firing). Disc Three shines on McGuinn/Parsons/Chris Hillman's country rock mutations and onwards. Disc Four wraps things up with the Byrds' final early '70s run and live late-'60s/early '70s performances (which can be at times fang-bearing ferocious but are still best chronicled on 1970's studio/live masterpiece Untitled/Unreleased).
With The Byrds now out-of-print, if one yearns for the full historical perspective and its accompanying thrills, There Is A Season capably serves as a slightly less-great proxy. But if you already know one Byrd from another (or own the first box set), you'd be better off cherry picking from Legacy's fine catalogue reissues.








