#The byrds eight miles high vinyl how to#

And if there has been, itвЂ™s unlikely that whoever played it did it in as transcendently surprising a way as Rufus Harley did with his. IвЂ™m not sure if thereвЂ™s ever been a more unlikely instrument to make its way into the world of jazz than the bagpipe. In this sense, the maniacal, full-throttle 16-minute marathon jam version the Byrds recorded live the following year for their (Untitled) album isnвЂ™t just a band finding spectacular new ways to explore their own work - itвЂ™s a necessary corrective.

#The byrds eight miles high vinyl how to#

вЂњMoby DickвЂќ it ainвЂ™t - Sieb Warner, in his first and only album with Golden Earring, plays the drums like a button-mashing вЂ™90s pre-teen trying to figure out how to play Street Fighter II for the first time - and when Rinus Gerritsen comes in on bass to sort of clumsily spar with him it sounds absolutely hapless. Aaaaaaand then, whoops, here comes the drum solo. Just not as preposterous as this 19-minute version of вЂњEight Miles HighвЂќ that they released as a side-length title track of an LP in 1969, one of the most ceaseless and exhausting attempts in recorded history to try and put forth the idea that, hey, maybe this song isnвЂ™t about flying in an airplane, yвЂ™know? It runs a pretty noodly course, starting with some solid zone-out psych jam potential - George KooymansвЂ™s and Gerry HayвЂ™s guitars arenвЂ™t exactly virtuoso, but thereвЂ™s some good interplay for a bit, and thereвЂ™s a nice bit of loud-quiet-loud dynamic going that keeps the uptempo momentum at a decent jogging pace for about eight minutes and change. They released their first LP Just Earrings in 1965, their most recent one Tits вЂN Ass (yeesh) in 2012, and have been running with more or less the same core band members since 1970, which is absolutely preposterous. Golden Earring (1969)ДЇor a band most casual music fans in the States know for approximately two songs - 1973вЂ™s вЂњRadar LoveвЂќ and 1982вЂ™s вЂњTwilight ZoneвЂќ - the NetherlandsвЂ™ Golden Earring had the kind of career that seems almost unbelievable in its length and breadth. HereвЂ™s how it made it beyond the Summer Of Love, and across dozens of summers afterwards. For a song so deeply associated with psychedelic rock that itвЂ™s regularly cited as the movementвЂ™s origin point, вЂњEight Miles HighвЂќ found purchase anywhere that a band either felt like spiralling out into the exosphere with improvisation or needed a melodic, instant-hook pop classic to filter through their sensibilities. The funny thing about вЂњEight Miles High,вЂќ in fact, is that it wound up being interpreted through the lens of nearly every single subgenre of rock music from metal to UK indie - including hardcore punk, of course, in the form of HГјsker DГјвЂ™s peerless cover (more on which is below hereвЂ™s where I note that the passing of Grant Hart is what spurred this edition of Gotcha Covered in the first place). (Well, OK, maybe a little about drugs, but more significantly about homesick alienation in the middle of a crowd.) And while thereвЂ™s been some custody disputes over who actually contributed what to the song - the late Gene Clark, shortly to leave the band, claimed majority authorship, while Roger McGuinn and David Crosby later claimed they simply finished his first draft - at this point it feels like one of those songs that wound up belonging to any succession of artists who found a way to take it through - and past - its proto-psychedelic origins. For a song thatвЂ™s been so often reduced to вЂ™60s Montage Cliche #00001B ( Note: Please use only in case of rights restrictions for the YoungbloodsвЂ™ вЂњGet TogetherвЂќ), the ByrdsвЂ™ вЂњEight Miles HighвЂќ is still something of a miracle - a successful translation of avant-garde jazz into pop music, a harmonic convergence where every singer and player is at their best, and a song that actually feels more resonant when you discover itвЂ™s not about drugs.