I had always heard about those canned radio interviews that groups used to do back in the '60s (you know the ones in which a disk jockey would read scripted questions and play back the pre-recorded answers by group members--and just IMAGINE the things that could go wrong!). I don't believe I'd ever heard one before though. These promos were usually done in support of a tour, I'm told, making it appear that the band no sooner had gotten into town than they headed straight for the radio station to have a parlay with their best ever friend, the local DJ.
So it's fascinating--if a bit peculiar--to have such an aural hisory document included as a bonus track on this re-release of this 1966 classic. The answers to the scripted questions actually are, for the most part, thoughtful, perceptive and pretty much reflective of the relatively mature and serious-minded band they'd always been presented as. They weren't, as Crosby reminds of twice in the supposed interview, "candy floss." No, they were never that. They were, however, a band in transition, and the common wisdom about this album, is that it reflects that state of flux. But then, in 1966, who wasn't??
I was 13 when I first heard "Eight Miles High," and to say it was totally unlike anything else on the radio at that time (or anything the band had done up to that point) would be an understatement. I remember just kind of sitting there dumbfounded as it came over the car radio as my mother was driving me home from school. As if by magic, it ended just as we drove in the driveway and she cut the engine (AND the radio). I just sat there dazed for a few seconds--almost as though a little bit of the cosmos had cracked open and revealed itself.
I bought the single and became equally enamoured of the b-side (the original "Why"), and although I was still too young and un-moneyed to buy actual albums put all of the three Byrds albums--AND NOTHING ELSE--on my Christmas list for 1966. (TURN, TURN, TURN would have to wait, as it turned out. I received the two "black" albums, TAMBOURINE MAN and FIFTH DIMENSION), which effectively served as a thorough a history lesson and documentation of the band's growth and development thus far as any fan could have hoped for. Who could have predicted that the sharp, clean folk-rock of 1965 would transmogrify into something quite different, something proto-psychedelic and kind of dangerous, a year and half later?
I wore the grooves out of those records--especially FIFTH DIMENSION.
If anyone had told me back then, that this album, which I considered the very definition of "groundbreaking," would come to be viewed a rather erratic effort by a major band, I don't think I would have begun to comprehend what they were talking about. ANY record with "Eight Miles High" included on it would have to be a major artistic statement and a huge step forward. And even to my unsophisticated 13 year old ears, the emerging sense of autonomy and ambition was evident. It meant something that there wasn't a single Bobby Dylan song in the lot: clearly, they were burning bridges. (Yes, I know they would resume doing Dylan songs again as early as the very next record, but by then, they had proven themselves to be substantially more than Dylan interpreters and popularizers).
Forty five years on, however, I guess I can sort of see what the critics were talking about. "Eight Miles High" is indeed the most innovative track on the record, with only "I See You" and "What's Happening??" being the only other tracks to come close to that that cut's exotic whoosh and roar. The bonus tracks on the 2008 release include the original and an alternate take of "Why," an earlier version of "Eight Miles High," making for a trippier experience overall than the original album actually proved to be.
But the point is, this WAS 1966 after all, and in the pre-PEPPER era, FIFTH DIMENSION was about as bold a statement as you were going to get. We were just getting to the point where serious attention was being focused on full length albums at all. The early Byrds recorded three very good ones, and, yes, I will say "classics," regardless of whatever inconsistencies and weak points they might seen as having today.
There's nothing wrong with a work of art reflecting a state of transition if it accurately reflects what the artists (and the surrounding society) were actually going through. I tend to agree now with those critics who say that the inclusion of such updated folkie numbers as "Wild Mountain Thyme" and "John Riley" were, on some level, an artistically conservative move ("Let's not get too freaky.") and even the thematically daring (and daringly SOMBER) "I Come And Stand At Every Door" was set to the tune of the folk standard "The Silkie." But prior to '67, every band hedged their bets to some degree. Can anyone name a San Francisco band whose earliest recordings reflected full blown psychedelia? Nope, the weirdness was ALWAYS interspersed with a little blues, a little balladeering, some jug band stuff and really a lot of FOLK-ROCK. Doesn't make them any less significant.
To say FIFTH DIMENSION was the embodiment of its era isn't such a stretch. I can forgive the sound effects of "2-4-2 Foxtrot" and the less than inspired instrumental, "Captain Soul" (surprisingly dull given the instrumental fireworks of "Eight Miles High," "Why," and "I See You"), and I've always thought that Crosby got a bum rap with "Hey Joe." It's one of the few Byrds solo vocals up to that point, and I think Crosby carries it off fine. While I understand why many prefer other versions, I can't help think this track gets a bum rap for NOT being all slow and sultry like Hendrix's later version. I've always enjoyed the instrumental backing on this cut (particularly McGuinn's distinctive, but not show-offy 12-string). When the record is played in sequence, it actually is an effective follow-up track to "Eight Miles High"--a bit of earth bound grit after all that psychedelic fire.
Back in the day, I actually had more of a problem with the song that gave the album its title. "5D," with Van Dyke Parks' churchy organ and lack of a hooky chorus always struck me as an odd choice for a single. Its much vaunted trippiness had more to do with the lyrical content (pretty advanced for the time--and ambibuous enough to make it the second Byrds single in a row to get banned) than with the actual arrangements. But in the intervening years, I've had one of two little epiphanies to that song's soundtrack, at those rare moments when I really did find myself "relaxed and paying attention."
After two albums of gorgeous folk rock, FIFTH DIMENSION was indeed transitional. Of course, the Byrds never really did stop transitioning then or afterwards. If on this album they were puzzling over "What's Happening," two records later they were expressing their increasing comfort with the notion that "Change Is Now."
I trust everything worked out all right.