THE BYRDS Turn! Turn! Turn! MONO Edition Album Cover Gallery & 12" Vinyl LP Discography Information #vinylrecords

Byrds - Turn Turn Turn MONO

Description & Collectors Information:

The Mono edition of "Turn! Turn! Turn!" is an iconic piece of music history. The album features 12 tracks, including the title track, which was a cover of a Pete Seeger song. The album was produced by Terry Melcher and released on the Columbia label in 1965.

The Mono edition of the album is highly sought after by collectors and music enthusiasts. The Mono version of the album is different from the stereo version in that it has a more raw and authentic sound. The Mono edition has a single channel of audio, which gives it a more unified and coherent sound. The stereo version, on the other hand, has two channels of audio, which can make it sound more artificial and processed.

The album cover art features a photograph of the band , with a bright blue sky in the background. The image is symbolic of the optimism and hope that the album's music represents. The back cover features song titles and credits, along with liner notes written by the influential music journalist, Ralph J. Gleason.

The album's title track, "Turn! Turn! Turn!" is one of the most recognizable songs in rock history. The lyrics, taken from the "Book of Ecclesiastes"", are a message of hope and peace. The song's melody and harmonies are beautifully crafted, and the guitar work is outstanding.

Rare Mono Edition Columbia 360 Sound

Matrix/Stamper codes: XLP112089-1D / XLP112089-1D

Music Genre:

60s American Rock

Album Production Information:

The album: "Byrds Turn Turn Turn" was produced by: Terry Melcher
Album liner notes by Derek Taylor

Record Label & Catalognr:

Red Columbia CL 2454 / Non-breakable XLP 112089/90, Dual Walking Eye

Media Format:

12" Vinyl Stereo Full-Length Long-Play Gramophone Record
Album weight: 280 gram

Year & Country:

1965 Made in USA

Transcript of the Liner notes of the album "Turn Turn Turn" by The Byrdss

Well, here it is. And about time, too. Didn't our old grannies wag their wise and withered heads and tell us that good things are worth waiting for? This album was as long in the making as a President. But, as Jim McGuinn trusted it would, everything's worked out all right. Personally, I think it's a beautiful piece of work, and maybe The Byrds were right to linger over it. After all, a great record album is to the 1960's what a piece of sculpture was to the Middle Ages. Isn't it? The Byrds think it should be, and I agree with them because I agree with them on most things. So do The Beatles, by the way. They're Byrd-watchers. Two of the Fab Four came to the recording sessions at Columbia's Hollywood studios when they could have been sprawling beside their Bel Air pool gazing at Joan Baez. Some choice.

Anyway, down from the hills rode George and Paul because they'd liked The Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man," and they know that a record like that doesn't happen by accident. ("Ho," John had said, "The Byrds have something," and the others had nodded.) So there they were, at Columbia—bachelor Beatle two-some, denims and fringes and so much experience, heads bent to pick up the sound-subtleties of the Los Angeles Byrds, whom The Beatles publicly named as their fab gear fave rave American group. Well, that was one glamorous night. Much of the time it was bark and bite, struggle and retape, battle and reshape, experiment and reject. "Just once more," said famed producer Terry Melcher a thousand times.

And with so many once-mores and The •Byrds' creativity and a capful of other ingredients, we now have this most splendid album. Why is it so good? Mainly because The Byrds are so good. The great quality common to all The Byrds is that they really care about their music. I don't want to be boring about this—though they will bend your ears for hours on this subject—but the point is worth making because it is this prolonged, exact attention to detail and this involvement with the very best way to make music work for you that set The Byrds ahead, above, beyond and totally out of reach of their competitors. The Byrds, you see, are not prepared to be impris-oned by their music.

They know that if material is good, it can be molded and fashioned at will. Any material. Any music. They proved this in their first album when they took a sentimental British keep-your-chin-up-and-your-upper-lip-stiff war song ("We'll Meet Again") and by investing it with a beautiful blend of barely discernible humor and Byrd harmony, produced a wonderfully fresh interpretation. And tasteful, too, for The Byrds are nothing if not aesthetic. Similarly , in this new album, they reach back to Stephen Foster for a song. They pluck out Oh! Susan-nah and make it, suddenly, pure Byrd. Again they add a touch of humor. Faint, but just enough. The Byrds rarely overdo anything.

The constant artistic conflicts within the group—the striving for a thoroughly argued compromise—ensure that their songs are influenced by the best qualities of each of them. In other words, there is little chance that a song will be recorded without a dozen fistfights and great mouthfuls of awful abuse. For though McGuinn is leader, each member of his flock is an adroit, indi-vidual musician. This album is eclectic. (No, not electric. Eclectic. Look it up in Webster's.) Anyone ungenerous enough to suggest The Byrds rely on Dylan—and, surprisingly, there are one or two mean people in show business—will be disappointed to see that of the eleven numbers within this gorgeous sleeve, six are by Byrd-members, one is by Pete Seeger, one by S. Foster, another is an old country standard.

Only two are by Dylan. What else is there to say? The Byrds came out of 1965 very well, their dignity unimpaired. They are admirable people, and I never tire of their musical music. They have their disciples all over the world, and the sky around them is heavy and resonant with the predatory wings of imitators. The Byrds merely wince slightly and smile within themselves. Folk-rock came and went this year, and the mor-tality rate was high. Protest growled briefly and died in great, wheezing gasps. The Byrds, unfettered, looked the other way and sang love songs. 1965, too, brought Hair music and no-room-at-the-inn music. That, too, grew inwards and suffocated it-self.

The Byrds whistled Oh! Susannah and flew away on their motorcycles—away. away into the night over the Hollywood hills. Enjoy this lovely album, and give it to grumpy uncles for Christmas. It will help.