The Byrds and folk-rock

The Byrds open the folk-rock wave; its source is Bob Dylan.

In the mid-1960s Dylan is a central figure in America’s reply. But while British acts rule the charts, he is not the only one shifting the ground. We hear Newport summer 1965, “Like a Rolling Stone,” and related stories. We also need the Byrds—tightly tied to Dylan in many ways.

The Byrds start with guitarist Roger McGuinn; David Crosby, Gene Clark, Chris Hillman, and Michael Clarke join. Like many, the McGuinn–Crosby pair first make a name in the Greenwich Village folk circle. Then a westward migration takes shape inside the industry. Across the 1960s you can see the business move largely from New York to Los Angeles. L.A. has natural advantages—one is TV and film centered there—so skilled production hands and decent studios are plentiful. McGuinn works his way west, building a folk career: traditional folk plus Beatles songs played as folk—odd then, but you already see him aiming Beatle-ward. Early name: the Beefeaters. They have “Mr. Tambourine Man,” written by Dylan, who has not yet recorded his own cut. He does later; Ramblin’ Jack Elliott is on that session. An out-of-tune instrument leads them to scrap it. Producer Terry Melcher gets the song; the Byrds hear of it and start their version. First they use twelve-string acoustic folk guitar, close to early-1960s revival acts like the New Christy Minstrels. Then summer 1965: A Hard Day’s Night opens. The Byrds see it. At first they are as Beatle-mad as anyone—that is what they want to be. But they notice George Harrison’s Rickenbacker twelve-string electric: six pegs facing you like a normal guitar, six more at an angle for the second set of strings. McGuinn already plays twelve-string acoustic; he wants that Rickenbacker. Rickenbacker is made in Southern California—he can walk into a shop and trade a twelve-string acoustic, a banjo, or similar for a new one. They record “Mr. Tambourine Man” on that Rickenbacker twelve-string electric. That jangly folk-rock sound becomes a pop-industry signature. Think R.E.M. and Tom Petty—jangly sound tracing to that 1965 moment when McGuinn takes the Hard Day’s Night guitar and plays a Dylan song. He also says the intro is shaped by Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” Combined, the No. 1 single “Mr. Tambourine Man” appears—issued April 1965, meeting “Like a Rolling Stone” on the charts. Two Dylan songs: one written but not sung by him; one written and sung by him—two sides of his career then. Interesting elements beyond Beatles-style guitar on a Dylan song and a Bach-tinged intro: session players who had worked with Phil Spector—and with the Beach Boys on “Don’t Worry Baby”—back the track. Melcher asks for some Beach Boys feel; they fold that “Don’t Worry Baby” approach into McGuinn’s playing. That is “Mr. Tambourine Man.”

Note: I mentioned a session band. McGuinn is the only Byrd who plays on the instrumental track; the rest is studio players. Other Byrds only sing. Years later we will say the Monkees do not even play on their records—but on this authentic folk-rock classic, most of the playing is also session work. Afterward the Byrds play their own instruments and cut the hit “All I Really Want to Do”—a Cher story I will return to. “Turn! Turn! Turn!” (from Pete Seeger) also hits No. 1 in fall 1965. “Eight Miles High”: McGuinn says it is about a transatlantic flight at seven miles; “seven” does not scan, so eight. Everyone hears drugs anyway. It peaks at No. 14 in spring 1966 and is pulled from radio as a drug song. It is also deeply shaped by John Coltrane; the opening twelve-string line, to my ear, quotes Coltrane’s “India.” That is the Byrds path: Dylan-style folk songs plus that jangle. Tom Wilson will also matter for this jangle discussion.

Simon and Garfunkel’s breakthrough: another important New York act that stays in New York. In the 1950s they are the teen duo Tom and Jerry—“Hey Schoolgirl,” even American Bandstand as a teen Everly Brothers. After school they go other ways, then return as Simon and Garfunkel in the folk revival with the all-acoustic Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. (1964)—no success. It includes “The Sound of Silence,” not yet the famous version. Paul Simon goes to England to sing; Art Garfunkel, I think, goes to graduate school. They are not active as Simon and Garfunkel. Summer 1965: “Mr. Tambourine Man” charts, Dylan songs rise; producer Tom Wilson recalls the Columbia LP Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. Behind Simon and Garfunkel’s backs he brings players in, pulls the original “Sound of Silence,” and adds electric guitar, bass, and drums. How do you overdub a finished track? Listen and it is clear: the first bars stay folk-guitar only so players can lock the groove; then electric guitar, bass, and drums enter. The song is reissued in the U.S. without the artists knowing and hits No. 1 in 1965. Imagine Paul Simon’s phone call: “Paul, your label—your song is a hit in America.” “What does that mean?” That is the story. Wilson simply adds electric guitar, bass, and drums to an acoustic folk song—really the definition of folk rock. They then record the Sound of Silence album—the version most people know. Songs like 1966’s “Homeward Bound” and “I Am a Rock” help make them among the era’s key acts.

Also rising in L.A.: the Mamas & the Papas. Formed in New York, they move west like the Byrds—later arrivals in the folk-rock wave. Led by John Phillips: two men, two women—the Papas and Mamas, including Cass Elliot (“Mama Cass”), largely the star presence. Most writing, harmony, and arranging is John Phillips. First big single “California Dreamin’” reaches No. 4 in 1966; the No. 1 is 1966’s “Monday, Monday.” Another folk-rock beat: after the Byrds’ Dylan covers explode, others cover Dylan or imitate his writing. Barry McGuire hits No. 1 in fall 1965—only months after “Mr. Tambourine Man”—with “Eve of Destruction,” written by P. F. Sloan on assignment from Lou Adler and the label to write something that is not Dylan but sounds like Dylan. The Turtles, another L.A. band, cover Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me Babe” and reach No. 8 in 1965. Fronted by Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan, later Phlorescent Leech and Eddie / Flo & Eddie—Frank Zappa albums, then 1970s solo work—but earlier they are the Turtles. “It Ain’t Me Babe” is a fine single; their 1967 No. 1 “Happy Together” is one of the decade’s representative American pop singles.

That is enough on folk rock for now. America’s reply has other strands. Next: Phil Spector’s lasting legacy.