"and now when i'm lonesome, I always pretend that i'm getting the feel of Hickory Wind"

I know it's cliche to say, but there are some musicians who define who you are. For me, those two are Gram Parsons and Gene Clark. They both have voices that hint of eternal sadness, and lived lives that where full of demons and destruction. They also both died of relatively young deaths, Parsons at 26 and Clark at 46. They both were country rock pioneers, fusing the two genres that they loved to introduce to a generation who though that their music was square. There is differences between them of course; Parsons' image was much more outgoing, with nudie suits and his seeming desire to prance on stage like Mick Jagger whilst Clark was more reserved, more introspective.

Whenever I am feeling nostalgic for a more simple life, or even the desire to escape from anything, Parson's "Hickory Wind" that he recorded with The Byrds in 1968 remains a favourite. Supported by Chris Hillman's tenor harmony part, Parson's speaks of a more simple time in a rural country life where even the memory can cheer up a dull day. Living in 21st Century London, the simple pedal steel guitar driven tune makes me wants to escape and be in the arms of a special someone.

Whilst I admire Parsons, for my money Gene Clark just edges him for my empathy and respect. Parson's was a trust fund kid, who destroyed his life through his demons. Clark was a small town boy - the only one from the original Byrds line up - who experienced world wide fame at a young age before departing the Byrds. A recent theory feels that Clark probably had bipolar, which would explain his need when sober to self destruct once more. I don't think there is a song he did that doesn't speak of sadness, or regret. Listen to his vocals on "She's the Kind of Girl"; his longing and passion backed by Crosby and McGuinn's harmonies are infectious. If there was any justice in the world, he would be mentioned in the same breath as Dylan. Unfortunately, because of his mental instability, he lacked the drive and composure of his more famous contemporaries. Speaking as someone who suffers from mental illness, he feels like a kindred spirit who write these songs for me. If you look at the image of the White Light album above, it seems fitting to have Clark alone, against the sun; romantic, sad and fitting with his music perfectly. With moods like I am in now, I am going to raise a toast to two of music's most tortured genius'.