Given the classy songs he wrote as a founder member of The Byrds and then his pioneering contribution to the development of country-rock, few doubted that one day Gene Clark would one day create an album of distinguished and lasting majesty.
At the age of 29, Clark (born Harold Eugene Clark, 17/11/1944, in Tipton Missouri), realised such a destiny with a record that went beyond the wildest expectations of even his most ardent admirers – ‘NO OTHER‘ (September 1974), being a work of such richness, imagination and resonance it should have prompted him acclaim he had not been afforded since his days as a Byrd.
Eight tracks featuring some of the most heartfelt lyrical candour and enthralling musical arrangements yet conjured in the rock field, Clark in tandem with producer Thomas Jefferson Kaye created that rarest of creatures in the near perfect album.
It was both mystical and dynamic, but on release was completely overlooked and a commercial disaster. This to such an extent Asylum Records (for whom it would be the only solo album Clark would make), deleted it from their catalogue barely two years later – label head David Geffen still fuming at the production costs of an L.P. that had a one week chart high of 144 and needless to say no accompanying hit single.
At the time the only album to have comparable artistic stylings was ‘Astral Weeks‘ (1968) and while down the years it deservedly brought reverence the way of its creator Van Morrison after initially being ignored, ‘No Other‘ remained steadfastly anonymous beyond a devotees of a group once dubbed ‘America’s answer to The Beatles‘ – such followers describing ourselves as ‘Byrds Nyrds‘. Its absence from the charts, combined with a lack of awareness among rock critics, came to overshadow the career (and life) of its central figure thereafter, Clark succumbing to a combination of health problems and substance abuse in dying at the age of 46 in 1991.
If his 16-year journey from ‘No Other‘ to the end of his days was littered with self-destruction, then the road Clark travelled to the point it appeared had not been short on self-sabotage either.
After time spent with folk balladeers New Christy Minstrels, on his 1964 arrival in Los Angeles Clark chanced upon aspiring pop stars Jim (later Roger) McGuinn and David Crosby, who in forming themselves into a trio extended the line-up to include Chris Hillman (bass) and Michael Clarke (drums) to take flight as The Byrds.
Following a comparatively short wait success was sudden and massive, their rendition of Bob Dylan’s ‘Mr. Tambourine Man‘ becoming a 1965 worldwide number one, the chiming guitar sound emanating from the 12-string of McGuinn creating at a stroke the concept of electric folk-rock.
From within the troupe Clark quickly established himself as the dominant and easily most gifted songwriter, his accomplished material, most notably the exhilarating ‘I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better‘, revealed him as a writer with the gravitas to out-Beatle The Beatles. But their breakthrough and continuing momentum presented Clark with issues relating to fame and fortune.
Shy and devoid of ego, (in relation that is to at least one of his band-mates), he struggled with the notion of being famous, Clark’s growing wealth accrued from writing royalties induced resentment from within the group – matters reaching a head when he decided internal tensions and treadmill of touring had taken sufficient toll for him to step away from The Byrds as 1966 drew to a close.
The following year brought release of the impressive ‘Gene Clark with the Gosdin Brothers‘ album, this foundation stone of country-rock was, however, completely overshadowed by the near simultaneous appearance of The Byrds momentous ‘Younger Than Yesterday‘ collection. Clark further undermined his own efforts by declining to tour in support of the record he had just made, effectively consigning a very promising debut to failure in the marketplace.
Forming a partnership with banjo player Doug Dillard in the spring of 1968, their alliance resulted in two albums ‘The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark‘ (1968) and ‘Through The Morning, Through The Night‘ (1969), both of which enhanced his reputation as a formidable writer and capable vocalist. Each was fundamental in developing the ongoing fusion between country and rock, yet barely sold a copy between them as country-rock, for the moment, remained outside the mainstream.
Two years elapsed before Clark again made an album. His 1971 ‘White Light‘ offering, produced by session guitar ace Jesse Ed Davis, was a serene, reflective affair which drew positive reviews from the few critics who heard it, although was otherwise lost among a saturation of releases in the now widespread field of emerging singer-songwriters.
With his stock at an all-time low, it was then fortuitous that Geffen should begin floating the idea of a reunion album from the original Byrds for his recently formed Asylum label. The five-strong ensemble gathered to record ‘Byrds‘ (February 1973), the record offering more in anticipation than it did in actuality, Clark providing the only two real high spots of a lacklustre set with his songs ‘Full Circle‘ and ‘Changing Heart‘.
Despite the negative response to the record, Geffen was sufficiently enthused by Clark’s efforts that he agreed to fund an Asylum album from the artist, clearly unaware how far his bankrolling would extend – although for those of us with no financial outlay aside from buying a copy, failure has never sounded quite so magnificent.
Once more enlisting the support of Jesse Ed Davis, his guitar contributions are supplemented by those of Clark himself, Danny Kortchmar, Steve Bruton and Jerry McGee. The studio cast at the Village Recorder Studios in Los Angeles through April and May of 1974 reads like a veritable who’s who of top notch session players, their number including (but not limited to), Russ Kunkel (drums), Leland Sklar (bass), Craig Doerge and Mike Utley (keyboards), Joe Lala (percussion), Richard Greene (a veteran ironically of the ‘Astral Weeks‘ sessions, violin), ex-Byrd compadre Hillman (mandolin) – with background vocals provided by such vocal talent as Venetta Fields, Clydie King, Shirley Matthews along with Poco bassist and future Eagle Timothy B. Schmit.
While at its core ‘No Other‘ is a country-rock record, such a label is too simplistic as the songs, often within the same piece, are a compendium of shifting styles incorporating rock, funk, gospel, jazz, prog-rock and soul. At the control panel, Kaye embraces the broad, at times unspecific lyrics by utilising an updated version of Phil Spector’s ‘Wall of Sound’ technique – constructing a panoramic soundscape built on big, ensemble playing that is atmospheric, yet cohesive at the same time.
Given the repute of the musicians involved and Kaye’s painstaking approach to capturing the performances, it is hardly surprising the album went hopelessly over budget within days of the tape first rolling – Geffen receiving a final bill reputedly in the region of $100,000, which in 2026 roughly equates to $750,000.
The expansive, sweeping ambience of the music, (even allowing for the multi-layered density of each track, there is still a sense taking away just one guitar would lessen the effect), provides the ideal platform for Clark to ruminate on his place within the great spectrum of mankind. Through the poetic, on occasion vague lyricism, there runs a continuous search for meaning, the songs referencing dark waters, troubled skies and fiery rain as the writer not only explores a personal form of spiritualism, but asks whether spiritualty still exists in the consumer-driven days of the mid-1970s.
With opening track ‘Life’s Greatest Fool‘, Clark presents the most overtly country song on the record and while not representative of ‘No Other‘ as an entity, the lyrics already find the artist in questioning mood. Reminiscent in structure to his ‘Full Circle‘ contribution to The Byrds reunion album, the brisk melody picks up pace when a gospel choir enters the scene, the ‘Do You Believe‘ refrain through the chorus suggesting a religious connotation (‘Do you believe deep in your soul/That too much loneliness makes you grow old?’) to his wistful musings on the human condition.
The mood immediately turns darker on the brooding ‘Silver Raven‘, Clark initially setting vivid, if somewhat opaque imagery (‘Have you seen the changing windows/Of the sea beyond the stars?‘) atop of dense, but tasteful acoustic guitar patterns. The arrival of nimble electric guitar lines, performed by Davis, along with the haunting tones of a background vocal quartet move this expressive piece to a shimmering conclusion after it opens in unobtrusive fashion.
In several of the bleak years ahead for Clark, when he was reduced to playing bars as a solo act, ‘Silver Raven‘ was the one song from this album he would regularly play judging by tapes in circulation from such performances – the stripped back version that appeared as a bonus track on the 2003 CD reissue of the L.P. offering indication of just how affecting it sounded in original form.
There comes another distinct shift in tone with the ominous funk-rock of the title-track. Propelled by the swirling clavinet of Utley, striking electric guitar work and expansive percussion evoking the sound of an angry rattlesnake, Clark delivers a resonant vocal performance in extolling unity as a universal necessity:
‘All alone you say that you don’t want no other/So the Lord is love and love is like no other/If the falling tide can turn and then recover/All alone we must be part of one another.’
With percussive Cuban rhythms and a funky electric guitar solo competing for attention with the soaring harmonies of the backing singers, Clark ruminates on quest to find truth and inner peace:
‘When the stream of changing days/Turns around in so many ways/Then the pilot of the mind/Must find the right direction.’
With its languid opening passage in no apparent hurry to go anywhere, side one closer ‘Strength of Strings‘ is delicate in execution and expression. While the track itself is a memorizing affair that features cascading background harmonies and the keyboard prowess of both Utley and Doerge, the writer has seemingly slipped into a world of his own, one of deep evaluation in terms of how thoughts and emotions assimilate into music-based expressionism:
‘In my life the piano sings/Brings me words that are not the strength of strings.’
As this compelling, self-analysing track draws to a conclusion, he strikes an optimistic note in relation to the height of his creative powers still being on the horizon (‘Now I see that my world has only begun/ Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings‘), a sadly ironic train of thought given that Clark would never recover from the quick disappearance of his masterful record into the realms of oblivion – this the most opportune place to make the point Van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime.
The shortest track on the album at a little under four minutes, ‘From a Silver Phial‘ while something of an enigma has unmissable cocaine inferences even if they come wrapped in abstract elucidation. While the narrative is based on a female beholden to the drug, (‘Said she had a mind that slept inside tomorrow/And time could only heal it’s scars‘), Clark himself while reportedly abstaining when writing the album, has often been recalled by a number of studio attendees as being under the influence through the recording process – the tranquil melody of ‘From a Silver Phial‘ also memorable for another resplendent guitar solo from Davis.
Following the relatively brief track which opens side two comes the eight-minute epic that is ‘Some Misunderstanding‘, the piece set on its way by intertwining acoustic guitars as Clark delivers the opening lines in conversational manner.
But as he begins weaving a path between perception and true purpose the array of instruments increase, electric guitars, piano and violin all playing their part through an intoxicating background score that grows with intensity, Clark drawing the listener close as he seeks answers to deep philosophical ruminations:
‘But I see my life before me/And I’d like to make a try/Maybe someone knows what fate is/Maybe someone knows just why/All I know is it’s all related/Maybe someone can explain time/But I know if you sell your soul to brighten your role/You might be disappointed in the lights.’
For Clark it appears life has no more logic than a kaleidoscope, one sleight of hand and the entire vista looks different (‘Now I see that in my visions/That my eyes are seeing twice/Once for every expectation/And once for what I realise‘) and although the lyrics reach no firm conclusions on how best to embrace happiness or overcome disappointment, Clarks ends with the stoic assertion, ‘But doesn’t it feel good to stay alive?’
In moving on from ‘Some Misunderstanding‘ the serious intent of ‘No Other‘ is brought to an end, the two remaining tracks while lighter in outlook are still episodes of considered contemplation from the composer.
Steered by Utley on piano, the breezy country-rock element of ‘The True One‘ has echoes of opening cut ‘Life’s Greatest Fool‘, Clark singing with cheerful resignation as he considers the vagaries of fate:
‘Changes come so quickly, easily it can seem bizarre/They say there’s a price to pay for going out too far/You can buy a one way ticket out there all alone/And you can sit and wonder why it’s so hard to get back home.’
While the track is ushered along by interlocking acoustic and electric guitars, the somewhat mournful pedal steel incisions help reinforce his point that lessons are often learnt through errors of judgement:
‘I use to treat my friends like I was more than a millionaire/Spending those big ones like I could afford them all upstairs/But what’s been flying high must always touch the ground/Just walk upstairs and ask you’ll be likely directed down.’
With Dillard receiving a co-write credit, there is suggestion closing track ‘Lady of the North‘ is a song Clark may have had in stock for some time. Nevertheless the open-ended lyric depicting a fondly remembered romance (‘We lay in the grassy meadow/The earth was like a pillow/For our dreams‘) serves the album well as a finale, the country rock framework of the piece nudged close at times to contemporary folk by a sharp violin contribution from Greene.
As a consequence of the album costing so much to make Asylum kept the promotion budget for ‘No Other‘ to a minimum and with an air of inevitability it sank without trace. While the art-deco cover was certainly eye-catching, the rear sleeve photo of an androgynous looking Clark wearing eye make-up and trousers expansively flared, even by 1974 standards, only added to the confusion surrounding a record that seemed hell-bent on disappearing from view at the earliest possible opportunity.
Chastened by the experience Clark remained out of sight, at least in recording terms, until re-emerging on RSO three years later, the ensuing ‘Two Sides to Every Story‘ release, again produced by Kaye and featuring a guest turn from Emmylou Harris, was predictably less ambitious than its predecessor. Despite some moments of high quality it failed to sell, proving the last time Clark, on his own, would record for a major label.
Showing a keen eye for rock nostalgia, in 1977 an enterprising promoter assembled a U.K. tour comprising of three former Byrds (McGuinn, Clark and Hillman) each of whom had a solo album to promote. Touring with their own supporting musicians, on occasion the trio performed together, these on-stage realignments continuing to the extent Capitol gave them a record deal that subsequently produced two albums, neither of which was particularly good.
To make matters worse Clark eventually fell foul of the others due to his drug habit. Fired from the touring group before the second effort was completed, the 1980 ‘City‘ L.P. is credited to Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillman, ‘featuring‘ Gene Clark, who for all his problems still manages to contribute the stand-out song – this glorious track with the somewhat ironic title ‘Won’t Let You Down‘ evoking memories of just how vibrant The Byrds sounded across their first two albums.
Throughout the ’80s Clark paid heavily for bridges burnt in previous decades and while apparently content with his reputation as a maverick, there would be no significant interest in his current activities, a low budget duo album with Carla Olson, ‘So Rebellious A Lover,’ (1987) while immensely likeable made little impression. In retrospect it now stands as a forerunner to later collaborative efforts between Robert Plant & Alison Krauss and Mark Knopfler & Emmylou Harris, Clark once again a pioneer only for others to latterly hit pay dirt with the idea.
Making overdue efforts to curb addictions that had seriously affected his health, Clark’s outlook received a significant boost in 1989 when Tom Petty, a long-time Byrds aficionado, recorded ‘I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better‘ for his huge-selling ‘Full Moon Fever‘ album, the song also receiving an airing when performed by the five founder Byrd members on their induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in January 1991.
But in terms of a career renaissance it proved to be the final false dawn, royalties generated from the Petty cover resulting in a return to bad habits, Clark found dead at his Los Angeles home on 24 May 1991.
That Gene Clark was unable to command widespread respect during his lifetime remains an eternal mystery of popular music and even in death his monumental contribution to the development of country-rock is often overshadowed by that of Gram Parsons – with whom, at the very least, he stands as a founding father of that genre.
‘He had a great voice, sang from the heart and wrote wonderful songs, so why didn’t it work for Gene? That’s the question,’ asked Hillman in the excellent 2019 BBC documentary, ‘The Byrd Who Flew Alone – The Triumph and Tragedy of Gene Clark‘, stopping short of referring to the self-destructive streak Clark never managed to conquer.
As the programme ends Olson makes the assessment, ‘Great art is not always recognised in its time,’ a perceptive observation when considering the legacy of Gene Clark. But after decades of neglect his opulent 1974 masterpiece finally began making some appropriate traction and in the same year the BBC gave Clark his belated due, Rolling Stone magazine ranked ‘No Other‘ at 136 (which still seems absurdly low) when compiling their list of the 500 Greatest Albums Ever Made.
It is worth remembering, however, that is eight places above the highest chart position it ever reached.
In the 1978 edition of the ‘New Musical Express Encyclopedia of Rock‘, which to its credit describes ‘No Other‘ as ‘A minor masterpiece‘, the entry for Gene Clark stands between Eric Clapton and The Clash – given the innovation and originality of that album, you cannot help but think it is the perfect place to find him.
GENE CLARK – NO OTHER (Released September 17 1974):
Life’s Greatest Fool/Silver Raven/No Other/Strength of Strings/From a Silver Phial/Some Misunderstanding/The True One/Lady of the North;
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