Roger McGuinn – Self-Titled / Peace On You
The Byrds at their artistic peak were a fractious band with an uneasy chemistry, unable to sustain a balance for any significant duration. They were not alone in this. Some of the era’s other important bands had equally volatile combinations of personalities and inclinations, creating pivotal works but unsustainable careers (Jefferson Airplane and Procol Harum come to mind).
By the time of the last couple Byrds albums, Byrdmaniax in 1971 and Farther Along a half-year later in 1972, they had become a relatively long-running (gauged by the pace of releases common during the ’60s) franchise that embraced — or, perhaps more accurately, presented — a wide range of musical directions depending on who was on board.
Upon the demise of the Byrds, Columbia hung on to McGuinn. His self-titled solo debut appeared in 1973, with Peace On You following a year later. Newly reissued on separate CDs with bonus tracks and liner notes, they stand as a portrait of an artist trying to juggle marketplace expectations with a genuine sense of exploration.
The self-produced Roger McGuinn sounds like he’s trying to figure out who he was as a solo act (though, far from being alone, he’s joined variously by all of the original Byrds, Bob Dylan, and assorted Los Angeles session heavyweights). In his least believable guise, “Draggin'”, he displays an affection for the Beach Boys, but it has the feel of wearing someone else’s clothes. Contrastingly, “Time Cube”, with its banjo and traditional melody, underscores McGuinn’s strengths and points the way toward his folk music projects in the ’90s.
Peace On You was helmed by one of the day’s hotshot producers, Bill Halverson. As such, it’s a well-realized effort at being relevant and timely in the ’70s. McGuinn’s voice becomes the crowning characteristic on an otherwise big and lush stab at radio play. It all sounds good, but the connection is made because of the resilience of his earlier works. “Same Old Sound”, one of a half-dozen songs co-written by McGuinn with Jacques Levy, even addresses his audience’s desire to hear the ringing twelve-string Rickenbacker of his erstwhile band.