The Byrds, Fifth Dimension, and 'Eight Miles High'
- Abigail Devoe
- 5 days ago
- 19 min read
Updated: 3 hours ago
“Nobody was prepared for that kind of dimension.”
With Fifth Dimension, the Byrds were so far ahead of the curve, they accidentally invented a whole genre...the first time.
Gene Clark: harmony vocals, tambourine, harmonica on “Captain Soul”
Roger McGuinn: lead guitar, harmony vocals, lead vocals
David Crosby: guitar, harmony vocals, lead vocals on “What’s Happening?!?!” and “Hey Joe (Where You Gonna Go,)” co-lead vocals on "I See You"
Chris Hillman: bass, harmony vocals
Michael Clarke: drums
Special guests: Van Dyke Parks, organ on “5D;” Allen Stanton, string arrangements for “Wild Mountain Thyme,” John Lear, spoken word on “2-4-2 Fox Trot (The Lear Jet Song)”
Produced by Allen Stanton
art by Horn & Griner
Byrds of a Feather
The Byrds’ slogan really should be “first in flight.” They were the first group to move to Laurel Canyon; triggering two whole waves of musicians to do so. They’d only been together a few months when they had their first number one hit. And in a year and a half, they graduated from glorified Bob Dylan cover band to kings of the Sunset Strip and accidental inventors of an entire subgenre...the first time.
“While they may have appeared on our television sets as cool, calm, and collected, the five members of the Byrds were, in reality, still mere boys coming to terms with a level of success, adulation, adoration, and reward none of them could ever have envisioned even six months earlier.”
quoted from: John Einarson, Mr. Tamourine Man: The Life and Legacy of the Byrds’ Gene Clark (2005)
In August of 1965, the Byrds embarked on their first UK tour. It should’ve been a home run: the week they arrived, “Mr. Tambourine Man” was number one, the Beatles’ “Help!” was number two, and the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” was number three. Instead, it was a grueling three weeks. Newly-established Ministry of Labour regulations threatened to derail the whole thing. As soon they touched down at Heathrow, they were served with a lawsuit by...the Birds! (The only thing really remarkable about them was their guitarist, Ronnie Wood.) Thesuit didn’t move forward, but it left a bad taste in Byrds’ mouths. “Nowhere is there love to be found/Among those afraid of losing their ground…”
They were booked at shit venues. Roger McGuinn, Chris Hillman, and Michael Clarke all got sick, and the tour got poor reviews. Simply put: they weren’t ready. Looking back, Chris concluded, “We should have waited (to go to England.) But Derek (Taylor) convinced us to go, partly because he could triumphantly march back to London and show Brian Epstein his band.”
But the tour wasn’t a total wash. The flight home gave Gene Clark inspiration for one very important lyric. It would become both his crowning achievement as a Byrd and his swan song from the group.
One can imagine the pilot coming over the intercom with the whole, “ladies and gentlemen we are now flying at 37,000 feet, the light will come on when” speech. 37,000 feet is about seven miles. In no time, Gene had a basic chord progression and lyrics. “Seven miles high.” David Crosby filled in the blanks, like “Rain grey town, known for its sound.” Along with providing the arrangement, Roger pointed out the line sounded better as “eight miles high.” You’re probably humming it to yourself right now.
Just as the Byrds got back from their trip to England, the Beatles touched down in LA for their own tour. Everyone talks about the cross-pollination between Dylan and the Fab Four, but it’s actually more like a triangle. Without the Beatles, you don’t get the Byrds at all. Upon their debut, they were touted as America’s response to the British Invasion. Without Dylan, you sure as hell don’t get the Byrds. Without the Byrds and Dylan, you don’t get Rubber Soul. Without John and George playing hooky on their second US tour to drop acid with Roger and Croz, Rubber Soul might’ve sounded a little different! And you certainly don’t get Byrds Mach Two without the Beatles.
Two months after meeting the Fab Four, the Byrds’ released their cover of Pete Seeger’s “Turn! Turn! Turn!” It was a massive success. It hit number one in December, charting a whole week longer than “Mr. Tambourine Man” had. Two days after that, the Turn! Turn! Turn! LP was released. Riding on the high of a second number-one hit, the Byrds embarked on Dick Clark’s Caravan of Stars tour with Bo Diddley and Paul Revere and the Raiders. Our avian friends rode in style in their very own brand-new Winnebago. It had comfort, it had privacy. (Two things one would like to have when consistently stoned out of their gourd.) Most importantly, it had a tape player.
Jim invited Croz to a Ravi Shankar recording session earlier that year. He was instantly obsessed. Who did he get obsessed with Ravi? George Harrison! George had become fascinated with a sitar on the set of Help! as this thing called “raga rock” germinated in the English rock group scene. The Kinks played around with it on “See My Friends,” and the Yardbirds did on “Heart Full of Soul.”
Along with Ravi, Croz also put John Coltrane’s Impressions and Africa/Brass on his driving mix tape. (The Remember My Name documentary is worth the watch for Croz’s Trane story alone!) The idea “Eight Miles High” was the Byrds’ first jazz excursion is inaccurate. “The Airport Song” does a bossa nova thing, which was all the rage in ’64. But this would be the most overt reference to the genre they ever made. The Zombies’ “She’s Not There” showed them it was possible.
Another key ingredient to the Byrds’ new sound: LSD!
From the mid-sixties onwards, especially after LSD was criminalized in America in 1966, pop music exploded with the stuff. The Beatles, the Stones, the Beach Boys. Hell, Dylan very likely referenced tripping in New Orleans in “Mr. Tambourine Man” – the song that made the Byrds famous! About the influence of LSD on pop culture, Jon Savage said, “It wasn’t like pot or pills; it was fundamental.” Considering the effects of the drug which I have absolutely no personal experience with whatsoever, I have no idea what you’re talking about, it’s easy to see how one would gravitate towards the improvisational, simultaneous nature of jazz. Where jazz has the ostinato, Indian classical music has the drone. Both invoke a hypnotic state where all sense of time falls apart; apparently an effect of the drug. Ergo, both were “the period’s secret soundtrack.”
Looking back, this was probably the best time in the Byrds’ career. There was minimal strife, they had a hit. They were getting gigs, feeling adventurous, and they were bonafide trendsetters. What could possibly go wrong??
Stalling Mid-Flight
The trouble began with an unfortunate clash between the Byrds and the Ed Sullivan Show crew. Crosbymouthed off to some producer who just so happened to be Ed Sullivan’s son-in-law, Jim tried to massage the situation, but the damage was done. The Byrds were blacklisted from the biggest stage on television. Inhindsight, Chris thinks this was the first sign of Croz’s infamous ego problem; that would eventually lead to his ousting from the band.
“We were all young guys – basically kids – who didn’t know how to handle ourselves, and interpersonal dysfunction would increasingly become part of life as a Byrd.”
quoted from: Chris Hillman, Time Between: My Life as a Byrd, Burrito Brother, and Beyond (2020.)
Gene Clark was especially sensitive to this. He had a lot going on behind the scenes that the rest of the guys were oblivious to. They were young men in a time young men didn’t talk feelings with each other, let alone mental health.
Being the principle songwriter weighed heavy on Gene. It didn’t feel good to be stuck in the middle of Roger and Croz, and he was uncomfortable being the guy who made the most off songwriting royalties. In interview in the eighties, he remembered this tenuous time.
“I was 19...Then here you are in limousines in London, England, hanging out and meeting John Lennon. Then flying back to California and hanging out in Beverly Hills with the Beatles again, exchanging thoughts and ideas. Nobody was prepared for that kind of dimension. We dreamed about it and thought it would be a lot of fun, but then all at once it became a reality. We...weren’t really ready for it when it did happen. The shock of being put in that position, I'll be real honest about it, I couldn't handle it.”
quoted from: John Einarson, Mr. Tambourine Man: The Life and Legacy of the Byrds’ Gene Clark (2005.)
In February of 1966, as the Byrds were about to fly out for a gig with Murray the K, Gene freaked the fuck out. He’d flown before, so the rest of the guys were really confused as to why he was panicking. Roger tried to calm him down so they could take off, but it was no use. “It was a bizarre moment,” Chris remembered. “...there were no warning signs that he might have a nervous breakdown. In fact, it was so unusual that the rest of us were a little spooked.”
Roger issued an ultimatum. “You can’t be a Byrd if you can’t fly.” In getting off that flight, Gene ended his flight with the Byrds; citing a “fear of flying.” (This wasn’t the first time he got spooked on a plane: he exited the New Christy Minstrels under very similar circumstances.) When the rest of the band got back from New York, Chris begged Gene to reconsider, but he’d made up his mind. “I think he just couldn’t handle Hollywood. He was a gentle soul. Of all the people who should’ve gone back to Kansas, gotten married, and had a normal life, it was Gene.”
Fifth Dimension was supposed to have some more Dylan covers, but in wake of Gene’s departure, they forgo this in hopes to form their own identity. Instead, Roger brought in “Wild Mountain Thyme,” an Irish folk song he got hip to through Pete Seeger, and “John Riley” by way of Joan Baez. Gigging was fine: they opened for the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and played Elmer Valentine’s The Trip club. Writing was another matter. With their principle songwriter gone, Roger and Croz had to step up. But of course, they squabbled over who got how many songs on the album!
“Eight Miles High” became the lead single in March of 1966. Not “Hey Joe,” as Croz had hoped. This was one small step for Byrd, one giant leap for music-kind. Richie Unterberger observed they “were so far ahead of the curve that they were playing music that had yet to be named.” By virtue of when it was released, “Eight Miles High” was the starting gun of this newfangled thing that would come to be known as psychedelic rock. (On this side of the pond, at least: the Yardbirds beat us to it with “Shapes of Things” in February.)
But it ran into trouble. In typical Croz fashion, at a press conference in NY in March, he ran his mouth about drugs. That’s not suspicious at all! From there, he just kinda kept doing it; causing Gavin’s Record Report took a closer look. “I guess somebody at (the) Record Report did the math and figured we couldn’t be talking about an airplane because planes don’t fly that high. So, we must have been talking about some other kind of high,” Chris explained in his memoir. Oh no! Five guys with bowl cuts are corrupting the youths!!
“We could have called the song 42,240 feet, but somehow this didn’t seem to be a very commercial title…”
quoted from: Richie Unterberger, Eight Miles High: Folk-Rock’s Flight from Haight-Ashbury to Woodstock (2003.)
It’s like the Doors getting into trouble with the Ed Sullivan Show for the line “girl we couldn’t get much higher.” Since the Byrds didn’t have Jimbo’s frankly ridiculous plot armor, the Gavin Report recommended “Eight Miles High” be pulled from the air. Along with Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women 12 & 35,” it was one of the first songs to be branded a “drug song” and banned. Derek Taylor published a press release in Disc in the Byrds’ defense, but the damage was done.
Do I believe the Gavin Report was the reason “Eight Miles High” didn’t chart better? No. This thing was never going to be a number one. It was too far ahead of the curve. It underperformed in LA and Chicago surveys, as Mark Teehan identified in his paper dispelling this myth. Christopher Hjort and Joe McMichael’s So You Want To Be A Rock n’ Roll Star details several instances of the guys excitedly bringing “Eight Miles High” to DJs only to get lukewarm to incredulous responses. Do I believe the drug controversy put off DJs from spinning future Byrds singles for fear of potential repercussions? Yes. Do I also believe the Byrds were already on the outs, as their sound had been totally commodified by groups like the Monkees by 1966? Absolutely. “Eight Miles High”was the Byrds’ last single to break the top twenty, and the album couldn’t crack the top twenty in the US or UK.
Stranger Than Known
The Byrds are one of the most important and influential bands to come out of the States; with the Beach Boys,the Dead, the Velvet Underground, and Sonic Youth. The Byrds went through three distinct periods: folk rock, psych, country rock. To pioneer three massive genres in just four years is unheard of. The only other band I can think of that changed that much and were such innovators in each field are…shit, the Beatles? They went from “I Want To Hold You Hand” to “Strawberry Fields Forever” to fucking “Revolution 9” in the same amount of time!
Roger’s first contribution to Fifth Dimension is its title track – peculiarly stylized as 5D. Roger says it’s his explanation of Einstein’s theory of relativity, but come on. This is absolutely about drugs!
"Oh, how is it that I could come out to here,
And still be floating? And never hit bottom and keep falling through,
Just relaxed and paying attention."
Lines like, “All my two-dimensional boundaries were gone, I had lost to them badly,” “I saw that world crumble and thought I was dead,” and “I opened my heart to the whole universe/And I found it was lovin’” are pretty telling of the psychedelic experience!
Alice in Wonderland was a popular reference in the sixties for obvious reasons – see “White Rabbit.” Roger seems to make this reference too. “And as I continued to drop through the hole/I found all surrounding.” The fall down the rabbit hole is pretty scary, but Roger finds himself in a peaceful, welcoming place. “To show me that joy innocently is/Just be quiet and feel it around you...” This aligns with the sensory exultation of, you guessed it, psychedelic drugs. The Gavin Report was barking up the wrong tree!
As Roger was the folkie of the guys, this track acts like a folk song. Though the subject matter is difficult to catch in your fingers, and we technically start at the end of the narrative – “Oh how is it that I could come out to here/And be still floating?” – he still tells a story like a folk song. The lyric references this scrambling of a timeline! “I will remember the place that is now, that has ended before the beginning.” Moments of vocal euphoria are nestled in cozy waltz time: master of harmony Crosby sings over top of our central question, “Oh how is it that I could come out to here/And still be floating?” You can feel the tips of your toes lift from the floor. We may as well be riding the guys’ magic carpet on the cover.
This warm, breezy feeling stagnates with the next cut. Wild Mountain Thyme is side one's weak point. It’s got the signature jangly Rickenbacker, it’s got the harmonies. But on a body of work like this, it feels like a regression. This is another tip of the hat to Pete Seeger, but Scottish verse as an Irish folk song just doesn’t mesh with the still distinctly California Fifth Dimension. Allen Stanton’s arrangement means well, but it’s too heavy-handed and sweet. I do like the humming though. People don’t hum on their records these days. We used to be a proper country!
On Mr. Spaceman, country boy Chris sings about being visited on the farm by a UFO. (If I had a nickel for every song about aliens on Vinyl Monday, I’d have two nickels…) This is one of several instances of Chrisgetting the Byrds to dip their toes in country, pre-Sweetheart of the Rodeo.
“Woke up this morning, was feeling quite weird,
Had flies in my beard,
My toothpaste was smeared
Over my window, they’d written my name”
Rhyming “weird” with “beard” and “smeared” has to be some kind of first.
Musically, “Mr. Spaceman” is tight and catchy. It’s just over two minutes long, wasting no time. The walking bass line is fun, the descending turnaround is fun, the feeling is bouncy and light-hearted.
I See You is a joint Crosby-McGuinn number that lifts its groove from the English beat groups. This was mostcertainly inspired by the group’s tour of Britain. With “I See You,” we get a taste of Roger’s new Coltrane-inspired soloing style. Smaller doses throughout the song inject flavor, as opposed to three pillars dominating the whole song. The syncopation, front-loaded riff, and what sounds like wood block percussion infuse an almost Latin feel. We know the jazz stylings of Spain and South America were on people’s brains in the sixties; see the aforementioned bossa nova craze.
“I See You” doesn’t possess the strongest songwriting. This is very abstract means of telling a lady you’ve met her before, somewhere in the cosmos. It’s a very sixties way of getting in a girl’s pants. The lyric is more a means to deliver an interesting vocal performance. I hear light influence of modal jazz in the melody and harmony. Roger sounds like he’s imitating Croz on his vocal.
What’s Happening?!?! Croz’s first solo songwriting credit as a Byrd, that’s what’s happening! And with this first solo credit, he says he doesn’t know anything about anything. “I don’t have the vaguest notion/Whose it is, or what it’s all for.” This not-knowing doesn’t distress him. Instead, he surrenders himself to the not-knowing; for that’s how you learn the lessons the universe has to teach you, maaan. “What’s Happening’”s excellence is the music. The Byrds knew it too: they included a whole instrumental round of the verse after David’s vocal is complete. Everyone teams up to build the raga-rock tone. The rhythm guitar and bass drones underneath Roger playing long, bent notes. Pay attention to when Mike switches from the shuffle to the drive in the half-time section – he plays slightly behind the tempo like Roger does. The feel is stoned and hazy with a sweet scent, like incense.
Fifth Dimension’s side one closer is the most sobering song the Byrds ever released. This is one of the most graphic anti-war songs I’ve ever covered, with the Zombies’ “Butcher’s Tale.” It stands with Jimi Hendrix’s “Machine Gun” as one of the most harrowing. I Come and Stand At Every Door is from the point of view of a child killed in the bombing of Hiroshima. Roger adapted a Nazim Hikmet poem to the melody of “Great Selchie of Shule Skerry,” which Judy Collins recorded. The constant looming threat of nuclear warfare comes up a lot in songs of the sixties. See “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.” Not to mention so, so many anti-war songs that came from the decade. Rarely do we hear of the consequences of nuclear warfare in song. My friend Nancy of Vinyl Friday identified another song from this angle, Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sun Is Burning,” in her own Fifth Dimension episode.
There’s no introduction to cushion us, just a chiming chord before the opening stanza:
“I come and stand at every door
But no one hears my silent tread.
I knock and yet remain unseen,
For I am dead, for I am dead.”
There are no breaks in the music either. Roger sings over one long drone; the narrator unflinching in theirdescription of their fate.
“My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind.”
“I Come and Stand At Every Door” serves as a chilling reminder of a consequence of war us grown-ups forget. Childhood is a casualty of war just as human life is; the casualty that stands at the door of every war. “I need no fruit, I need no rice/I need no sweets or even bread/I ask for nothing for myself...” All they ask is peace, so no more children have to meet his fate. Children do not ask for this. No matter what race, religion, geographic location, or creed, they deserve a peaceful and happy journey to adulthood. “When children die, they do not grow.”
After flipping the record, we drop the needle on Chris Hillman’s instantly-recognizable bass intro, so muscular it rattles Mike’s kick drum. The pulsing guitar builds tension until Roger unleashes into his iconic yarn-ball solo. Listen close: the riff references Coltrane’s “India.” In the words of John Einarson, “Nothing in their previous body of work even hinted at the aural assault of ‘Eight Miles High.’” None of these songs even hint to it! We’ve had three standard-issue Byrds songs, one that flirts with country, one with a slight jazz flavor, and a harrowing side one closer. “Eight Miles High” is in a league of its own: combining the raga drone with free jazz harmonics and rock-and-roll energy.
About the lyric, Jon Savage claims, “Skilled communicators, the group knew that an overt LSD lyric would cause trouble, so they cloaked their visions within an account of their August 1965 visit to London.” Roger lateradmitted,
“...the word ‘high’ was a double meaning, and we all knew it. Everyone at that time had experimented with drugs, and there was a tongue-in-cheek thought...But it wasn’t the main thrust of the song.”
quoted from: Richie Unterberger, Eight Miles High: Folk-Rock’s Flight from Haight-Ashbury to Woodstock (2003.)
Chris, however, maintains the song is deadass about their trip to London. That’s the story the vast majority of the imagery revolves around, from touching down at Heathrow. “Eight miles high, and when you touch down/You’ll find that it’s stranger than known.” Gene transports you, the stranger from sunny California, to this strange world: a busy sidewalk corner on a rainy London day. “Rain-grey town known for its sound,” London is certainly known for being rainy and for rock-and-roll. “In places, small faces unbound.” Big black limousines drive by. “Squares” travel in packs, presumably huddled under umbrellas. I can’t let the reference to the short-lived Birdsvs. Byrds lawsuit slip by: “Nowhere is there warmth to be found/Among those afraid of losing their ground.” Headlights bleed into the foggy air and the slick, wet street. Everything bleeds together like watercolor...or the psychedelic experience. The openness of Gene, Roger, and Chris’s beautiful three-part vocal harmony emphasizes that blurry feel, as does Fifth Dimension’s frankly crunchy recording fidelity.
To recap: lyric of “Eight Miles High?” Sort of drugs. The music of “Eight Miles High?” Absolutely drugs!
This was the best drumming Mike ever did on a Byrds record. Clearly he was paying attention to Coltrane’s drummer, Elvin Jones. Mike references the low, rumbling rolls and crackling rim shots we hear on the“Acknowledgment” of A Love Supreme. Crosby’s propulsive rhythm work is the song’s secret ingredient,especially through the white-knuckle coda. The crescendo at the end is breathtaking. That much convinced me “Eight Miles High” is a perfect three minutes of music.
Hey Joe has the supreme displeasure of following “Eight Miles High” – which really doesn’t help Crosby’s case! He was convinced he’d discovered this song and had tried to get the Byrds to record it pretty much since he’d joined the band. But by the time Fifth Dimension rolled around, groups like the Leaves and Love had already left their mark on “Hey Joe.” (Not to mention Hendrix blowing it out of the freakin’ water the next year.) The Byrds take a perfectly fine crack at it nonetheless. The cowbell is fun, as is the Byrds having a garage rock turn on this LP. Chris’s bass playing is great, and Croz tries his best to deliver a vocal. It’s another good, danceable cut.
Captain Soul evolved from a jam on “Get Out of My Life Woman.” It’s a bluesy instrumental with a harmonica solo by Gene. This would’ve been one of the Byrds’ club-oriented numbers for sure. John Riley is another folk tune true to the Byrds’ roots, but it’s ill-suited for this Byrds, if that makes any sense. Around here and “Captain Soul,” I start to question if this really was the best sequencing and track listing for Fifth Dimension. This is sucha front-loaded album. Having heard outtake “Psychodrama City” and B-side “Why,” I think they’re far better-suited to Fifth Dimension than folk covers and instrumentals. “Why” especially; Roger’s solos are fabulous.
The album closes with 2-4-2 Fox Trot (The Lear Jet Song) named for guest performer and friend-of-the-band John Lear; heir to the Lear Jet fortune. 242 was the number of John’s personal jet, which he flew the Byrds to a gig on – and did a victory roll with! Croz was napping, he woke up in the middle of the roll and flipped his shit thinking the plane was falling out of the sky. Thank God Gene wasn’t on board, poor guy would’ve had a heart attack! Roger’s attempt to incorporate sound effects into song with “Lear Jet” predates the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” by months. Otherwise, this is a fine, fitting closer.
Fifth Dimension is probably the Byrds’ strongest album statement. It’s got both musical chops and variety. It’s also a flawed body of work. If you’ll remember, I nearly covered this album around this time last year, but axed it at quite literally the last minute in favor of Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks. I got hung up on Fifth Dimension’s piecemeal nature. I couldn’t get past how obviously uneven it is. This unevenness is because of the flight of Gene Clark. The Byrds never could quite center themselves again after Gene left, and it’s not lost on me the best song on this album was the one he primarily authored. David summarized,
“What the Byrds lost when Gene left was soul, honesty, a certain wonderful creative streak that was completely different. Gene was an absolute one-off. Nobody else wrote like that-nobody else wrote those songs. There was simplicity, a naivete, to those songs that the rest of us couldn’t create….The Byrds were done when Gene left; we were never the same after that.”
quoted from: John Einarson, Mr. Tambourine Man: The Life and Legacy of Gene Clark (2005.)
After this, the Byrds began to turn on each other: first firing Croz, then Chris ran off with Gram. Chris said the Byrds “were lazy and cocky and it got to us.” The curse of being called “the next Beatles” didn’t help either. I’d say this album is also inconsistent because of how fast pop music moved in 1966. Think about it: The Young Rascals’ “Good Lovin’” in January, the Yardbirds’ “Shapes of Things” in February, then “Paperback Writer”backed with “Rain” and Bob’s “Rainy Day Women” in the spring. “Eight Miles High” came in April, “Paint It Black” in May, “Tomorrow Never Knows” that summer, and “Good Vibrations” arrived in the fall. (My god, I’m gonna have my work cut out for me in 2026!) Sure, Fifth Dimension lacks the cohesion of first two Byrds albums. How did the rudderless Byrds do? Pretty good considering! This album shows 1966’s greater desire to expand and explore.
It’s difficult to understate this album’s importance. It was the starting gun of psych rock for far more reasons than just “Eight Miles High.” Though the Byrds' peers would soon eclipse them, Fifth Dimension authored how quite literally the rest of the decade would go.
byrds fifth dimension
Personal favorites: “5D,” “Mr. Spaceman,” “I See You,” “What’s Happening?!?!,” “Eight Miles High”
– AD ☆
Watch the full episode above!
Aswad, Jem. “The Byrds Look Through Their Back Pages in Stunning New Photo Book.” Variety, 9/8/2022. https://variety.com/2022/music/news/byrds-photo-book-exclusive-excerpts-1235363275/
Eaton, A. J., dir. David Crosby: Remember My Name. BMG, Vinyl Films, PCH Films: Sony Pictures Classics, 2019.
Einarson, John. Mr. Tambourine Man: The Life and Legacy of the Byrds’ Gene Clark. San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2005.
Hickey, Andrew. “Episode 139: ‘Eight Miles High’ by the Byrds.” Spotify: A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs, 12/22/2021. https://open.spotify.com/episode/4RVRa8c5iSj1LOb7TQwzuk?si=0a3f4db52a0e4715
Hillman, Chris. Time Between: My Life as a Byrd, Burrito Brother, and Beyond. Chicago: BMG Books, 2020.
Hjort, Christopher, and Joe McMichael. So You Want To Be a Rock ’n’ Roll Star: The Byrds Day-By-Day, 1965-1973. London: Jawbone Press, 2008.
Savage, Jon. 1966: The Year The Decade Exploded. New York: Faber & Faber, 2016.
Savage, Jon. “Jon Savage on song: The Byrds go nuclear.” The Guardian, 10/12/2009. https://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2009/oct/12/jon-savage-byrds
Teehan, Mark. “The Byrds, ‘Eight Miles High,’ the Gavin Report, and Media Censorship of Alleged ‘Drug Songs’ in 1966: An Assessment.” Popular Musicology Online, 2010. http://popular-musicology-online.com/issues/04/teehan.html
Unterberger, Richie. Eight Miles High: Folk-Rock’s Flight from Haight-Ashbury to Woodstock. San Fransisco: Backbeat Books, 2003.
Walker, Michael. Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of Rock-and-Roll’s Legendary Neighborhood. New York: Faber & Faber, 2006.
“Eight Miles High: The Story of the Byrds.” Narrated by Peter Fonda. 6 Music Stories, BBC Radio 6 Music, 7/7/2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3E83jNeHbTk
Comments