On New Years Eve, with 1968 turning into 1969, I went to see a show at the Electric Circus in Chicago. The headliners were the Byrds. The opener was Muddy Waters and his band. Sandwiched in between was Fleetwood Mac with Peter Green on guitar. An unbelievable night for music.

The place was huge with a dance floor, and a procenium stage at one end. The place was jammed. I remember (vaguely) being up in the balcony area and having a great, but remote view.

Muddy's band were local heroes and felt right at home in the cavernous building. Muddy commanded the place from the minute he started. Fleetwood Mac was a revelation. Green Manolishi. Albatross. And an unbelievable version of "Yer Blues" from the just released Beatle White Album.

But the Byrds were something like I had never heard. I had seen the Byrds live at least twice before. I had heard "Sweetheart of the Rodeo" and liked it (kinda). But I was not at all prepared for the Clarence White Byrds. Man, they were something. They came on well after midnight, we were all high as angels, and the combination of McGuinn's Rickenbacher twelve and that tone bender that Clarence White used cut through the haze like crystal. The bass player was the one shown on the "Dr. Byrds and Mr Hyde" album, who was only with the band a short time. I believe that Gene Parsons was the drummer.

I remember the opening lick to "Blue" (Had an old dog and his name was blue, betcha five dollars he's a good dog too) and the way McGuinn would wave his finger picks around in the lights to emphasize a lyric. Awesome in the true sense of the word. They played another date at a teen club (The Blue Village in Westmont) outside Chicago a few days later and I got to hear that sound again up close and personal.

That was it for me. I played country and country rock full time for ten years and have pursued that magical sound ever since. One of those apocalyptic moments in my life.

Gosh I love that music. Always will.

Gram, Clarence White, Chris Hillman, Roger McGuinn, Steven Stills, Poco, Neil Young, Moby Grape

Thanks for the memories
Jim Bartholomew