Kicking off with an appropriately incendiary and doom-laden cover of a song best known from the Band’s Big Pink, this is not your L.A. hippie’s Byrds. Or is it? It’s a schizophrenic mess, really, as befits its title: the second track is a bounding little country ditty dedicated to a late dog, and, as a dog lover, I have to say I’ve got a soft spot for this, but it’s an unintegrated piece of a puzzling mess of a record, with a backhanded ode to the shitkickers that inspired their foray into country and western in the first place; a few remnants of their early psychedelic folk; a bizarre blues medley that doesn’t sound like much of anything (and not really in a good way); and a few other hybrids of the kind that would later prompt the term “alt-country.” These, and a really great proto-metal tune called “Bad Night at the Whisky.” Scattershot in song-form, production, and the level of commitment in its songwriting and performance, it’s really a McGuinn solo record backed up with a bunch of studio players who’re not always providing a sympathetic setting for the man’s restless (do I mean aimless?) creativity. Even so, I’d agree with reviewers who say this record doesn’t really get its due, ’cause sometimes there’s something to be said for schizophrenic messes—especially those that have such a strange, dark undercurrent. I probably prefer this to some of their more lauded releases. –Will
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