It ain’t as good as Cher’s version, babe.
With the blessed benediction of the Bard himself, The Byrds set out to change the shape of American rock music.
The trippy title track from the band’s third album puts the D in LSD.
The band’s first album without a full-time Gene Clark crosses into some spacey territory with occasionally stunning results.
Chris Hillman emerges as a songwriter and the country-rock sounds of the future make their first appearance.
A career compilation of the Crosby-era Byrds, which few would argue was the classic incarnation of the band.
[Kronomyth 6.0] The Fall of the House of Usher.
Episode seven, in which Gram Parsons temporarily takes over the Byrds and singlehandedly invents country-rock. Think Bob Dylan’s electric revelation, but in reverse.
After Gram and Chris rode off into the sunset, Roger re-grouped, literally, with a new band that straddled country and rock.
The Byrds apply their patented Dylan gilding to a Goffin/King song that goes down easy.
The new Byrds continue to stretch their wings on their second album. Just what the doctor ordered.
Fans and critics aren’t crazy about this one for a reason: underinspired and overproduced, it’s the first Byrds record not worth pursuing.
[Kronomyth 1.0] Free as a Byrd.
[Kronomyth 6.0] It’s a Byrd, it’s a plane, it’s… Roger McGuinn’s collar.
[Kronomyth 7.0] Rhymes with city.