Gene Clark With The Gosdin Brothers

Wednesday, June 16, 2021

Gene Clark 1966 is pop as perfection. It's not a work of genius, like Ray Davies or Pete Townshend songs of that time and period. Still, Gene Clark's voice cuts through because he is eros. His voice is a penis and is erect when he has the perfect melody. The lyrics are good but not exceptional. What is unique about Gene Clark is his voice, and when he sings, it's a siren in one of the seven seas. I can imagine when he walked into a room full of women, they are undressing. Although he's a male, I have to imagine that there were a few mermaids left in the wreckage.  

I made love to a woman while listening to Gene's song The Same One, and I would like to think it was me, but the truth is if no music by Clark, she would have fallen asleep. The voice captured her and made her do things she wouldn't normally do in such a session. Gene was in the room when I explored her territory, the north and especially the South. If not for him, I would be either in the far West or, more likely, in the East. She walked up the stairs along with the house I live in, and she wore a see-through fabric, and she wore either a bikini bottom or panties. For a hungry man, there is no difference. She walked past me, but she would have stopped and asked which direction is the South if I were Gene Clark. 

She walked past the window that I often place myself like a cat craving to get outside. If I had the voice, she would clearly come inside, but alas, my vocal howls like a horny cat. Not a sound of velvet evenings, but the sound of cold concrete passion. It bounces against the walls as an echo begging to get out to the open landscape. The magic of things is going by quickly. If only I took a second or so to notice the difference. 

I'm surprised that Bryan Ferry never covered any songs off the Gene Clark With The Gosdin Brothers album. Either the song I mentioned above, The Same One, or Echoes. Leon Russell made the arrangements for this song as well as So You Say You Lost Your Baby. All three are acceptable to the elegant Bryan Ferry treatment. Gene is not as cool as Ferry, and he sings his compositions like a male hustler in Midnight Cowboy. Ferry observes eros, but he's not eros like Gene Clark. 

I have a distant memory of my loving her, but it is only through Gene that I can feel her breath on my neck. The importance of pop music is to mark your moments, like writing on the sand, and the ocean will eventually erase the words. Without Gene, my history is in the background. The foreground is my memories while listening to Gene Clark With The Gosdin Brothers.