The Byrds fly again with ‘Sweetheart of the Rodeo’ tour
In the field of wildlife observation, they have what’s called a Rare Bird Alert.
We have one of our own in the rock realm, with the first partial-reunion Byrds tour in more than 30 years.
The initial spark was Chris Hillman inviting Roger McGuinn and David Crosby to add guest vocals to his 2017 album, “Bidin’ My Time,” which he co-produced with Tom Petty.
Soon after that, he was approached by Byrds frontman McGuinn to reunite for the 50th anniversary of “Sweetheart of the Rodeo.” The Byrds, beloved for their harmonies, had been pioneers of both folk rock (with their electric cover of “Mr. Tambourine Man” in 1965) and psychedelic rock (with 1966’s “Eight Miles High”). For “Sweetheart of the Rodeo,” the Byrds, which had been shedding members, ran with the country influences they teased on earlier albums for a full-blown country-rock record, one of the first of its kind.
The recording was split between Los Angeles and Nashville, Tenn., with session musicians and new member Gram Parsons bringing his own country roots to two of his own songs, traditional country tunes and covers by Dylan, Woody Guthrie, Merle Haggard and more. Parsons’ lead vocals were replaced due to a contract dispute that Mr. Hillman will explain in this interview.
“Sweetheart,” their sixth album, was their least successful at the time, only reaching No. 77, and it didn’t even earn positive press. Rolling Stone noted, “The new Byrds do not sound like Buck Owens & his Buckaroos. They aren’t that good,” and added that it “ought to make the ‘Easy-Listening’ charts.”
Soon after its release, Parsons, who ran off to hang with the Rolling Stones instead of doing a South African tour, was fired from the Byrds, and then Mr. Hillman left later that year and hooked up with Parsons to form the Flying Burrito Brothers. Parsons died of an overdose in 1973. That same year, the five original members of the Byrds reunited to release their 12th and final album.
Since then, as “Sweetheart” has grown in stature as a seminal country-rock record, there have been sporadic partial reunions, including one to honor Roy Orbison in 1990 and another for the Byrds’ Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction in 1991.
This tour, which plays the Carnegie of Homestead Music Hall on Tuesday, finds the McGuinn-Hillman combo backed by Mary Stuart and and His Fabulous Superlatives to perform the “Sweetheart” album and other Byrds classics.
Mr. Hillman talked about it in a phone interview last week.
What made you guys come together to celebrate this particular album?
Actually, it was Roger’s idea, and he called me about four months ago and asked me what I thought, and I said, “I’m there. I’d love to.” That was the last album I did with the Byrds, and then I left. He continued on. I said, “That’s fantastic,” and when he mentioned Marty and Marty’s band, the Superlatives, I went, “Absolutely.” I met Marty back in ‘86 when I was in the Desert Rose Band, and he was just getting his career going in country music as a solo artist. I thought the whole package looked great, and it’s turned out even better than I imagined.
It’s debated whether or not this is the first countryrock album. What are your thoughts?
The Byrds were unique in that we came out of folk music. I had probably the most country pedigree, having played in bluegrass. We started exploring that area on the second album when we did a Porter Wagoner song, which we include in the show. So, when we start the show, I tell the audience what led up to doing “Sweetheart.” We started doing country stuff, and the first song I ever wrote was called “Time Between.” It was on the fourth album, “Younger Than Yesterday,” and it was a country song, and we had brought Clarence White in, and we were exploring that avenue. What I loved about being in The Byrds is that we stayed within our parameter of sound, but we always tried new things. Psychedelic stuff, whatever. People would always try to put a tag on us, like when we did “Mr. Tambourine Man,” it was “folk rock.” It wasn’t our term, but we lived with it. And then the album before “Sweetheart” was “Notorious Byrd Brothers,” and Roger and I finished that album because everyone else had, pardon this terrible pun, flown the coop. David [Crosby]
was gone and Michael Clarke was gone, so Roger and I finished that album. We used a few session guys, and there were a few country things on that record, and then the next logical step was doing “Sweetheart,” and we hired Gram Parsons as we rebuilt the band. Gram brought us a huge spark of energy and ambition, and he was right on board with the whole idea of the Nashville trip, and he was instrumental in making that happen. We locked in tight the three of us and went down there and started the album.
How did you expect the album to go over at the time with Byrds fans?
I had no idea. None of us did. We were having a good time, and we made a record. Very rarely was I ever in involved in a project where I go, “Oh wow, this is going to get a Grammy.” I never get to that place, because you’re having a good time, and you’re in the moment. My thoughts after making the record was I thought it was OK, it wasn’t my favorite Byrds album. I used to say, “It was a noble experiment,” and as time went by — which was really ironic that five, 10 years later it started getting all this attention — what “Sweetheart” accomplished was that it opened the floodgates, and all of a sudden, there was this huge West Coast surge of country rock. When I left, Gram and I started the Flying Burrito Brothers, Richie Furay started Poco, and there was Pure Prairie League, and all of it led up to the Eagles in 1972. Originally, the Eagles were right out of the same well of country rock with the four original guys. And they were very successful and still going strong. As far as “Sweetheart,” it didn’t sell that well. It didn’t get good reviews. I don’t think anyone knew what to make of it.
Going back four years before the Eagles, I imagine country wasn’t considered all that cool to the ‘60s rock crowd.
No, not at all. But then again, a lot of the stuff we did was so close to country, and people sort of opened up, but like I said, it wasn’t our biggest-selling record and why that album to celebrate and not the others is that that album left such an indelible pathway and helped these other groups come along and create this other sound. It’s not about how much money you’re going to make. It’s about, “Is this an artistic endeavor that’s going to last through the years?,” and to me and Roger that’s far more valuable.
So, when you took the album there, you were actually booed at the Grand Ole Opry?
[laughs] They were a little suspicious of us. And we had some issues going on there, but, first of all, it was a radio broadcast and you couldn’t bring a whole drum set. You could bring a snare with brushes. That’s it, so you were limited in that area. But we did “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” and one of the fellas that worked on the album with us, Lloyd Green, he played steel and my cousin played snare drum. We had some minor issues go down. We were supposed to do “Sing Me Back Home,” which was a big hit for Merle Haggard in 1968, and at the last minute, Gram jumps on the mic and says “We’re going to do ‘Hickory Wind,’” which really wasn’t the right thing to do. It didn’t cause any booing, per se, but the Opry people were not happy. It was very disrespectful. I’m saying this in hindsight. You’re a guest on the Opry, you’re not a country act, but they’re allowing you to be the first rock act to be on the Opry, so it was a little rough. But I’ve played the Opry so many times since then. It was a different ballgame then.
So, in a few short years, The Byrds went from folk rock to psych to country rock, then back to psych. There was so much evolution going on. Do you think that contributed to a higher degree of creative tension among you?
I don’t think it was any different than any other group. I used to use this analogy that a band is like having five people each holding a paintbrush and trying to paint the Mona Lisa smile without destroying each other in the process. So, the creative tension sometimes manifests and motivates and enhances the creative process as long as the tension doesn’t destroy you. You’re working together and exchanging ideas, but you never want to cross that line of disrespecting each other. There’s so much respect in this outing now, it’s lovely. I can’t think of a better word to describe it. It’s not a Byrds reunion. We do Byrds songs, but without David Crosby, so it’s not a Byrds reunion. David was not in the group when we did “Sweetheart,” and he understands. We talked to him about it. And he’s very busy, and we all have our own things going. When this winds down in December, we can say we really celebrated a groundbreaking album, for lack of a better term. I’ll tell you a funny story: I was on this video thing with Dwight Yoakam and Merle Haggard for the Country Music Hall of Fame, and Dwight brings up “Sweetheart of the Rodeo” and Merle looks at me and says, “Almost.” Which meant, Merle said, it was OK, but it wasn’t really there quite yet. And I started laughing and said, “I’m not going to argue with you on that, Merle.” But we had good songs. Gram brought in two songs, but it was the only Byrds album that Roger and I did not write songs on. But I love the songs.