'Mr. Tambourine Man'

The Byrds, and particularly this era of the band, plays a pretty special -- or important, whatever -- role in my musical evolution and culture.

I was suckled on the Beach Boys, matured on The Beatles and thus had stunted and varied dalliances with other bands of the 1960s. This, of course, included The Byrds.

And, during this album, they were extremely '60s -- the half-moon glasses, the leather, pointed boots, the manufactured shaggy (not long, mind you) haircuts and the general indifference to the man.

Once folk, the band were pretty much a rock band copying what George Harrison did on a 12-string Rickenbacker.

Looking back, it's pretty awful. The songs are bad and the rest are just Bob Dylan covers. The 12-string jangle is obnoxious after time and the tambourine (yes, I guess it's called "Mr. Tambourine Man" but you don't need the damn thing on every song) is severly overplayed.

Maybe it's not the Byrds' fault however. I suspect I changed why this era of their music stayed the same.

At age 14, I wanted to be Roger McGuinn. By 21, I wanted to be Gram Parsons.