![]() ![]() Wikipedia also identifies a source for this song that had never occurred to me before: John Coltrane. Not so different from being high on hallucinogens in a way-and not so different from airplane rides either, for that matter. Nothing else I'd heard felt remotely like it. It comes sounding a little scratchy itself-prickly and rumbling, thudding, physical and awkward yet somehow insubstantial too, like cotton candy. I remember it freaked me out a little to hear it on the radio, that's part of its enduring appeal, especially late at night on scratchy AM radio stations. Yet for the most part I remain unmoved by the reality of hearing the music, except for random exceptions such as Sweetheart of the Rodeo and this strange plant that somehow took root in the top 40. I have always respected the Byrds, had many friends gaga about them in various ways, and I understand the excitement on some levels. Me, I find the Byrds something of a blind spot in my own canon, part of a discernible pattern when you note the Everly Brothers and R.E.M. But that's not fair-already the article had talked about the strong and obvious drug connotations that the song bears. Wikipedia can just be priceless, as in this wonderful sentence: "Although commercial airliners fly at an altitude of six to seven miles, it was felt that 'eight miles high' sounded more poetic than six and also recalled the title of the Beatles' song 'Eight Days a Week.'" Because right, the song, credited jointly to Gene Clark, David Crosby, and Roger McGuinn, is about airplane rides. ![]()
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