Originally published at ABC Arts Online, April 2014
"I think he
is legitimately at least the equal to Gram Parsons, and should be better
remembered as the father of Americana."
Those are the
words of Gene Clark's former manager Saul Davis in the opening moments of
British directors Paul and Jack Kendall's elegiac music documentary The Byrd Who Flew Alone: The Triumphs and
Tragedy of Gene Clark. It seems ungraceful to position the two men in
opposition, yet Davis's point is stark and compelling: Gene Clark, founding
member of The Byrds and creator of some of the most sumptuous music ever
recorded in the country-rock canon, saw the recognition his work deserved pass
him by. Critical consensus today, it is fair to say, deems Parsons, also once a
Byrd, as the genre's pioneer and most soulful voice.
Clark's story is
unique even among the great 'lost' talents of the late Sixties and early
Seventies. Unlike the likes of Parsons, Nick Drake, Tim Buckley, Jimi Hendrix
and others, he did not die young (he died in 1991 at the age of 46 as a result
of a bleeding ulcer, according to the coroner), yet today Clark's body of work
has the aura of an artist whose light burned only briefly, and whose music has
developed something of a cult following as a result.
As fan and
member of the Coal Porters Sid Griffin says of Clark's career in the
documentary, "He continually missed ships leaving the harbour". He
was never able to mobilise himself to meaningfully synchronise with the
movements and fashions of his day, due to his struggles with alcohol and drugs,
an aversion to playing the promotion game and a chronic fear of flying (one of
the reasons he parted ways with The Byrds in early 1966). He once floored
record label monolith David Geffen in a Los Angeles bar. He did not, one might
say, care for the business side of music.
A songwriter and
singer of some profound depth, Clark's "earth music", as Taj Mahal
puts it on screen, hit its peak on two magnificent solo albums No Other and White Light. His album with renowned banjo player Doug Dillard (The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard &
Clark, 1968) is another astonishing collection, while in The Byrds he wrote
none other than 'I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better' and co-wrote perhaps their most
iconic track, 'Eight Miles High'. A thread through the documentary is the fact
Clark was untrained in the technical arts of music and perhaps more bafflingly,
achieved a singular mystery in his lyrics without reading books.
The documentary
is a true passion project for long-time Clark lover, Paul Kendall and his sons
Jack and Dan. Thanks to exhaustive trips to the United States, they managed to
track down nigh on everyone who mattered, and surviving, in the Gene Clark
story. Thus in the film we get heartfelt contributions from one-time Byrds Roger
McGuinn, David Crosby and Chris Hillman, producer Larry Marks, No Other bassist Lee Sklar, singing
partner Carla Olson, former wife Carlie and sons Kai and Kelly as well as
admirers Griffin and Taj Mahal.
"There were
undoubtedly some emotional moments during the interviews," says Paul
Kendall, "particularly with people who probably hadn't had much
opportunity to express or explore their feelings on the subject before – but I
never detected any hint of anger or resentment.
"It wasn't
the overriding feeling, but sadness was obviously present in all cases –
sadness that he'd never managed to find lasting contentment or stability in his
life, and that his work didn't achieve the full recognition it deserved. Along
with that sadness, there was a lot of bewilderment about his mercurial
temperament and his self-destructive demons. But there was also real affection
for him as a man, and pride at being associated with him."
Kendall had
interviewed Clark in 1977 for Zigzag
magazine, and having remained a ardent fan, was moved to put the wheels in
motion for the film after reading John Einarson's biography Mr Tambourine Man: The Life and Legacy of
The Byrds' Gene Clark. From the start the project was completely
independent and funded by the filmmakers, motivated by nothing but an obsession
with Clark's back catalogue.
"Under
normal circumstances, you'd probably put together a proposal and look for
funding from a broadcaster or a larger production company. In our case, we felt
that would be wasted time. Even if we could have got interest in the idea of a
Gene Clark documentary, we certainly wouldn't have been the obvious choice of
people to do it: no track record, no credentials, no obvious resources."
The key figures
were Clark's sons. They had been approached on multiple occasions by
"well-known filmmakers" but no films had come to fruition. It took
the Kendalls showing the Clarks their initial interviews with Barry McGuire,
from Clark's first singing group of note the New Christy Minstrels, and another
former Byrd and bass player for Clark, John York, to convince the sceptical
brothers of the film's potential worth. With the approval of the estate,
everything else fell into place.
Naturally, in
trying to fit Clark's enigmatic life story into under two hours presented
Kendall with a series of excruciating editorial decisions: he admits leaving
out details and songs that went strongly against his instincts. In addition,
Kendall and his sons were keen for the film to be a celebration of Clark the
artist than anything else. That meant
not looking too closely at the more painful aspects of his life: the drug and
alcohol abuse, the erratic, sometime aggressive behaviour and ruptured
friendships.
"Everyone
in the film has their own perspective," says Kendall, "and in some
cases their own agenda. But I think the story and the picture that emerge are
as accurate as we could make them.
"There are
certain aspects of his life – and the aftermath of his life – that are somewhat
murky. But we made an early decision not to delve into that too much. Many of
the key players in those aspects are no longer with us to tell their side of
the story, and we didn't want to get distracted away from Gene's music, which
was always going to be the primary focus of the film."
Gene Clark's sound
ripples poetically and sensitively through the film, from New Christy Minstrels
songs right through to 1987's So
Rebellious A Lover with Carla Olson. But the quality of the music alone is
not enough to sustain such a documentary. Therefore we are left with the
curious trajectory of Clark's life as a narrative, which is compelling in its
marriage of melancholy and beauty.
"For me,
two things above all [stand out about Clark's biography]: the complexity of his
character and the contradictions in it, and the mystery of how a man who was
musically untutored and unread, for the most part, could produce work of such
melodic beauty and poetic lyricism. He didn't seem to understand that himself.
I think the fact that his gift was god-given, and therefore beyond his control,
was a constant source of turmoil for him.
"Perhaps
oddly, the person he most reminds me of, as a character, is the footballer
George Best – another man who encompassed both an inherent shyness and a love
of success, or rather, some of its benefits, and for whom extraordinary talent
seemed to be both a blessing and a curse."
The Byrd That
Flew Alone: The Tragedy and Triumph of Gene Clark is available in Australia through Greville Records or from
FourSunsProduction.com
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