Chris Hillman Under Your Spell Again

And so you lot want to exist a stone 'n' roll star / Then mind now to what I say / But become an electric guitar / Then take some time and larn how to play ...

Chris Hillman was but 21 in 1966 when he co-wrote the archetype "So You lot Want to be a Rock 'n' Ringlet Star" with Roger McGuinn for their now-legendary band, The Byrds. It became the 5th of seven sequent Top forty hits for the Los Angeles-based group, which — in a dizzying menstruation of barely three years — helped launch folk-rock, raga-stone, psychedelic-rock and country-rock.

"I don't think we planned annihilation. We made 2 albums a year, starting in 1965, and our music just went into these dissimilar places," said Hillman, 75, whose candid, no-nonsense memoir, "Time Betwixt: My Life equally a Byrd, Burrito Blood brother, and Beyond," was published Nov. 17 by BMG Books.

"It was wonderful because The Byrds developed this bully sound out of nowhere," connected the veteran vocalizer and multi-instrumentalist, who grew upwards in Rancho Santa Fe in the 1940s and 1950s. "Nosotros didn't accept a pattern."

Chris Hillman: Bonus Q&A with the Rock & Roll Hall of Famer: 'It's neither hair nor there!'

Every bit for the guitar Hillman learned to play before he became a star — and, in 1991, a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee — it was an audio-visual, not an electrical.

He and his mother found it in a shop in Tijuana when he was 15. She paid the $10 price and promised her son that, if he stuck with the instrument for a full year, she would pay half the cost for him to learn a meliorate guitar. These were likely the best investments either of them always made.

A year afterwards, the self-taught Hillman moved up to a Goya acoustic that cost $100. It was followed by a used Epiphone, for which he paid $50. After becoming hooked on bluegrass, via albums by Flatt & Scruggs, The Stanley Brothers and Beak Monroe, Hillman bought a new Kay mandolin at Singing Strings in Encinitas.

As he had outset washed with guitar, he learned to play mandolin past listening to his favorite albums, over and over, at a slower speed than they were recorded. While attending San Dieguito High School, he establish an invaluable musical mentor in Bill Smith, a custodian who was well-versed in nearly all things bluegrass.

"Baton was fantastic," Hillman said, speaking recently from the Ventura dwelling he shares with his married woman of 41 years, Connie. "I even so experience blessed to take met people who were always pointing a mode, a direction, for me and saying: 'Why don't you try doing it this fashion'?"

By 17, Hillman was a member of top San Diego bluegrass band The Scottsville Squirrel Barkers, with which he would record his first album a few years later. His life would never exist the same again.

"The Barkers was probably one of the best bands I always played in, but I didn't look at it like: 'OK, this is step one in my musical career,' " Hillman said. "I was blindly living in the moment. And I had such a passion for the music. We played a gig and we each got paid $5 or $10. I couldn't believe it! 'Oh, nosotros get paid?' "

Chris Hillman's memoir, "Time Between," chronicles the life of the 75-twelvemonth-old Rock & Roll Hall of Famer.

(Photo courtesy of BMG Books)

Plough, turn, turn

Hillman'due south 315-page "Time Betwixt" takes its name from what has long been regarded as the beginning country-rock song ever recorded, which he wrote for The Byrds' fourth album, 1967's "Younger Than Yesterday." He is peradventure the only musician whose credits include performing at the seminal Monterey Popular Festival in 1967 and the M Ole Opry in 1968 (both with The Byrds), and then at the bloody, decade-ending Altamont festival in 1969 (with the Flying Burrito Brothers).

"To this twenty-four hours, I believe that Monterey was the best music festival e'er," Hillman declared.

"The diversity of the lineup, from Otis Redding and Jimi Hendrix to Janis Joplin and Ravi Shankar, was remarkable. I had played in 1963 with the Gilt State Boys at the Monterey Folk Festival. Josh White and Judy Collins were office of the lineup. Later the Monterey Pop Festival, record company executives knew there was money to be made and would sign anyone that could walk, had a pulse and write a song...

"Altamont would have made a bang-up horror movie, except it was real. The Hell'due south Angels were providing 'security' and they were horrible and frightening. I was headed to the stage with my bass guitar and this Angel stopped me, and said: 'Where practice you recall yous're going?' And then, as I was going up the stairs onto the stage, David Crosby was coming downwardly, and he said: 'Be careful. This is non a good deal going on here.'

"The Angels were beating a fat guy with puddle cues. Before the last annotation on my bass died out, I handed my bass to 1 of the road crew guys and got out of there. That was the day — this sounds like sounds like a bad song, and with no offense to Don McLean — that the '60s died. Altamont was just a few months after the (Charles) Manson murders and it got progressively darker from there. I've got the poster from Altamont on the wall and it still gives me the creeps to wait at it. That was an interesting arc for me to go from playing Monterey to Altamont in such a brusque period of fourth dimension."

Seven years in the making, off and on, Hillman's volume covers multiple bases. It is a tale of personal redemption and overcoming adversity as much as it is an artistic chronicle. By design, it eschews sordid tales of the sex activity and drugs that are too often synonymous with stone stars, including former mid-period Byrds' member Gram Parsons.

Hillman and Parsons co-founded the Flying Burrito Brothers in 1968. Parsons was only 27 when he died of a morphine overdose in 1973.

"I gently wrote that Gram had some bug," said Hillman, who turns 76 on Dec. 4.

"Only was it relevant for me to write that he was so loaded on heroin we had to prop him up on stage? That's irrelevant to me, every bit opposed to saying he had the talent but lacked the piece of work ethic, and that he traded those aspirations for hedonistic pursuits that didn't quite work out.

"When I signed a deal with Scott Bomar at BMG Books for 'Time Betwixt,' I said: 'I'1000 not hanging you lot a 'rock 'n roll volume. I'm non going to write nearly drugs. I was a boring person!' Sure, lots of people I knew did stuff, merely I didn't go far a habit — no pun intended — I didn't make it a pursuit to know people who sold their drum kits because they were and so strung out..."

Instead, Hillman writes about his life, music and spiritual journey as a devout Christian who was born into a Jewish family for which religion was decidedly not a priority. He frankly addresses the hepatitis C that, in 1998, most claimed his life and which he speculates he contracted while getting a tattoo in the early 1970s. Pivotally, he acknowledges the soul-sapping anger he spent decades overcoming after his dad committed suicide when Hillman was 16.

"He was a wonderful father, and his death decimated my family unit," the mustachioed musician said. "My book is almost picking yourself up off the basis and going forrard."

As initially envisioned, "Time Between" was going to be two books, every bit Hillman's wife, Connie, told the Marriage-Tribune in a separate interview.

"The first was going to extensively focus on Chris growing upwardly in Rancho Santa Fe and Due north County," she said.

"The 2d was going to be near him learning to play music and so going on from at that place. And then, the ii started merging into one. Chris wanted to requite that legacy of his childhood and growing up to his children in this book. So, he began the process with the thought of it being two books."

In 2014, Hillman and his wife fabricated the first of ii inquiry visits to North County, where his father had been the publisher of The Rancho Santa Fe Times paper.

"The Rancho Santa Fe Historical Club was fantastic in letting Chris become into its archives and look at a lot of copies of his dad'due south newspaper," Connie said. "That was very of import for him. Writing this book was cathartic for Chris. He addresses a lot of the difficult things that have happened in his life. And he establish that — like many other people have experienced — writing makes you lot feel much better."

Hillman devotes virtually all the first five chapters in his 18-affiliate book to his youth in San Diego, where he became an avid surfer and adult an underage taste for beer. His most notable colorful extra-curricular activity while in high school was using the press presses at his father's newspaper to make faux ID cards during his sophomore year.

"I was surprised to learn that, every bit were our ii children," Connie said with a express mirth. "That was something I'd never heard Chris talk well-nigh."

Hillman responded with an emphatic "No!" when asked if he had considered including in his volume a photo of a fake ID that he and a classmate, Pebble Smith, made for their surfer pals. It was an avocation the two chop-chop abandoned later learning the FBI got wind of it.

"I got into mischief," Hillman said, choosing an adjective that appears several times in his book. "My mom and dad were very proficient parents and doing those false IDs was really terrible on my role. It was two months before my dad died and he was going through hell and so, personally and financially."

Chris Hillman rides his horse in 1949 in Rancho Santa Fe, where he grew up.

(Photograph courtesy of Chris Hillman)

Tall in the saddle

Hillman and his older sister both had jobs at The Rancho Santa Fe Times. He fondly recalls the ii-mile horse ride he regularly took from his family unit's home to the center of the then very rural boondocks.

"Chris used to say: 'I would ride my horse every 24-hour interval and then come habitation after dark,' " recalled Connie, who Hillman credits for encouraging him to add primal details to his memoir. "It was a different time."

Indeed, information technology was.

"I didn't put this in the book, but my dad wanted to open a little retail store in La Jolla," Hillman recalled. "But they wouldn't give him a wholesale permit considering he was Jewish, and covenants were pretty prevalent back then in La Jolla and Rancho Santa Fe.

"My dad, as the weekly newspaper editor, would practise boxing with them about the covenants — unbeknownst to me equally young guy. I do mention in my book the time we had a small fire at our house and, because we were Jewish, the Inn at Rancho Santa Iron would not give the states rooms for the night."

After his begetter's death, Hillman, his mother and his sis moved to Los Angeles. It was there that he concluded his very brief life of crime by shoplifting some blue jeans at the May Company shop where he had a function-time job.

"Who knows what was going through my head?" Hillman mused. "A very dainty salesman who worked at the May Company took me bated and said: 'I've been watching you lot. I'm letting you know I don't desire to turn y'all in. I want you to resign.' I did — and my life in crime was over. I went back to San Diego and played bluegrass, a criminal occupation in itself!"

In early 1963, Hillman returned to San Diego to rejoin The Scottsville Squirrel Barkers, which in 2004 earned Lifetime Accomplishment honors at the San Diego Music Awards. The quintet'due south 1963 debut anthology was later cited past Rickie Lee Jones for providing her bluegrass epiphany.

"It was perfection!" Jones said in a 1992 Spousal relationship-Tribune interview. "I practiced banjo and guitar and sang with them over and over. I was sure they lived in Arkansas and saved all their coin to record (the anthology)."

After a stint in the Los Angeles bluegrass band The Golden State Boys, Hillman joined The Byrds in 1965 — on electric bass, which he had never played before. Together, his new band and new musical instrument helped him forge an indelible creative path.

Drawing from folk, popular, stone, jazz and more, The Byrds quickly forged a sound uniquely its own. The band's mix of rich vocal harmonies, jingle-jangling guitars and a propulsive rock 'n' roll backbeat earned the hearty blessing of Bob Dylan, whose previously obscure solo audio-visual songs "Mr. Tambourine Human being" and "All I Actually Desire To Practise" became international hits after existence transformed past The Byrds.

"We weren't a garage ring trying to be Chuck Berry," Hillman recalled. "We did desire to exist The Beatles! I think The Byrds watched (the 1964 Beatles' movie) 'A Difficult Day'south Night' five times at the Pix Theater on Hollywood Boulevard when it came out. I have great respect for Paul McCartney. I learned to play bass past listening to him."

In plough, The Beatles were i of the many bands on either side of the Atlantic to exist inspired by The Byrds. Other admirers included the members of such bands as R.E.M., The Smiths and Tom Footling & The Heartbreakers, whose now-deceased leader and namesake produced and performed on Hillman'south acclaimed 2017 solo anthology, "Bidin' My Time."

As longtime fan Elvis Costello noted in a recent interview with Variety mag: "Even The Beatles took cues from The Byrds. They were a very influential band, not simply because of the song blend, but because of their use of the guitars, with broad-open kind of folk chords with heavily amplified, open strings ringing like that. It's a very good sound."

A blurb from Petty on the dorsum of Hillman's new book is similarly, if more specifically laudatory. Information technology reads, in function: "Chris was a true innovator — the human who invented country-stone. Every time the Eagles lath their private jet, Chris at to the lowest degree paid for the fuel."

Dwight Yoakam, who contributes the frontward to "Time Between," writes: "Without Chris Hillman acting equally the connective tissue between W Declension land music traditions and the rock 'northward' roll generation, from Buck Owens to The Byrds, there would be no mod country music."

Hillman left The Byrds in 1968 to launch the pioneering state-rock band The Flight Burrito Brothers with Parsons. On lath with them was Bernie Leadon, a latter-day fellow member of The Scottsville Squirrel Barkers, who co-founded the Eagles in 1971.

Had Hillman opted for an early retirement after his combined six-twelvemonth tenure with The Byrds and the Burritos, his musical legacy would already have been ensured.

Instead, he joined forces in 1971 with young man future Rock Hall of Famer Stephen Stills to grade the acclaimed ring Manassas. Then came the all-star Souther-Hillman-Furay ring, followed past a reunion with 2 quondam Byrds' members for two albums under the name McGuinn, Clark & Hillman.

From 1986 to 1994, Hillman led The Desert Rose Band. The grouping scored 12 hits on the national Billboard country-music charts, including the No. 1 hits "He's Back and I'thousand Blue" and "I Nonetheless Believe in You." Hillman, who played bass in the Byrds and Manassas, was happy to take eye stage every bit The Desert Rose Ring'south rhythm guitarist. He shared lead vocals in the group with Herb Pedersen, with whom Hillman has collaborated longer and more often than any other musician.

"My favorite twelvemonth in my development was 1967," said Hillman, whose songs take been covered by anybody from Pearl Jam and Roy Rogers to Patti Smith and Crowded House.

"I'll never forget coming to rehearsal and playing a couple of songs for Roger (McGuinn), and he was knocked out. (David) Crosby showed up late, as he always did at that time, and Roger said: 'Y'all amend sit down and heed to what Chris has been writing.'

"Crosby gave me a look similar: 'Yep, right.' Then he listened and he was very impressed. He asked me: 'Did you write these songs with everyone else?' I replied: 'No, it was just me.' Roger has a very nice quote about me. He said: 'Chris was a niggling late in blooming, but when he did, he blossomed.' "

Both McGuinn and Crosby make invitee appearances on Hillman'south 2017 album, "Bidin' My Time." Hillman and McGuinn last toured together in 2018 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of The Byrds' landmark album, "Sweetheart of the Rodeo." The two at present get together, via Skype, to play weekly games of Trivial Pursuit.

Earlier the coronavirus pandemic struck, Hillman had a fall tour booked with former Desert Rose Band members Pedersen and John Jorgenson. Those dates have been rescheduled for adjacent leap, although it remains to be seen if they will need to be rescheduled a second time.

"Apart from the Rolling Stones, very few bands accept been able to hold together over the decades," said Hillman, who is now mulling writing a nonfiction book.

"I was always curious where The Byrds might have gone, musically, if we'd stayed together. But when the doors opened for me in the music concern, and they did a number of times, there was e'er a path forwards. What I've learned is that, by hook or by cheat, you proceed going forwards."

— George Varga is a reporter and pop music critic for The San Diego Union-Tribune

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Source: https://www.encinitasadvocate.com/art/story/2020-12-01/so-you-want-to-be-a-rock-and-roll-star-chris-hillman-reflects-on-his-legacy-in-heartfelt-new-memoir

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