And of course their were the band members themselves who’d probably taken a bit too much acid, with David Crosby and Roger McGuinn deadly serious about communicating with alternative life forms through radio waves (though the AM radio signals of the time would not reach very far), hence the song “Mr. It must have been difficult of the remaining members who came from such talented previous bands to find themselves yet again within a group that was falling apart rather quickly, with their songwriter Gene Clark taking his leave. Yet still, while Fifth Dimension floated into nearly everyone’s home, it was darker and shrouded mystery, difficult to grasp and eluded nearly everyone (yes, even me), getting tucked away, save for the two songs that instantly hooked and resonated with listeners. That being said, the album was delightful in that it was a complete dichotomy, one filled with a great jangle and harmonic presence, creating an atmosphere that could be gentle and loving, while thunderous in the same breath, an album that was extremely well balanced with a mixture of jazz and rock influences. So in essence, The Byrds were standing toe to toe with a group of people who were musically lightyears ahead of The Byrds, meaning that in effect, yet again, the sound Firth Dimension was built around didn’t require that the band stand on their own two feet. Tambourine Man,” the single that had put them on the musical map, and of course now with “Eight Miles High” … and therein lies the the ultimate dilemma and folly for The Byrds, as their renditions of both of these magical moments didn’t belong to them, those moments belonged to a group of studio musicians known as The Wrecking Crew. The Byrds where now competing with themselves, competing with their super cover of Dylan’s “Mr. Laced with pop melodies that were catchy and extremely well written, Fifth Dimension with it’s paisley psychedelic lettering and magic carpet imagery, that while as good as it was, most people were expecting something a bit more edgy, a bit more druggie, and though inspirationally dark, was just too much of a struggle for fans in 1966, smack dab in the middle of the Summer of Love, competing with Dylan’s masterpiece Blonde on Blonde, Sounds of Silence from Simon & Garfunkel, or of course Revolver, where The Beatles bathed themselves and then the world in the brilliant softer colours of dreamy psychedelia.
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