It's not just the identity of the record to the movie. Unlike Dr Byrds where McGuinn insisted on flying the Byrds flag by taking every lead vocal, the singing is shared and the sole original founding member is even absent from three of the tracks altogether. How thinly can you stretch a well known musical entity before it warps beyond recognition or snaps entirely?
Fido contributed by and sung by soon to depart bassist John York is pleasant enough with some fine guitaring from Clarence White and a drum solo that doesn't get too boring. A swaying rhythm swings between the first and fourth chords until it ends.
Oil In My Lamp provides something like a progression in that its harmony put it pleasantly between the old Byrds and Baptist church sangin'. The song is a hymn associated with the early years of school but here actually compels with a commitment to the the brightness of the plagal motion of the tune and the strength of the vocals. It is entirely harmonised but the clearest voice is drummer Gene Parsons.
Tulsa County is a tasteful country cover with some fine bending guitar slinging, a strong McGuinn vocal, sweet harmonies that work for being a lot less formal and blocky than the trademark Byrds harmonies, fiddle and gentle Nashville lilt.
Jack Tar The Sailor begins with some lovely atmospherics on the guitar, settles into a kind of mid Atlantic folk with McGuinn supposedly trying a British accent to go with the origin of the song. McGuinn knew what he was going for and would have felt emboldened by the emerging of the brash folk fusion of UK acts like Steeleye Span, Pentangle and Fairport Convention. The trouble is that he just sound like he's pretending to be about ninety-seven years old. The the bands efforts create a genuinely beautiful setting but the vocal just makes every good thing drag like a corpse across a pub floor.
Jesus is Just Alright begins with very tasty minor key country rock guitars. The harmony vocals are blocky and eerily reminiscent of the style of close-to-home success of Crosby Stills Nash and Young. And then it ends.
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue rises as a country flavoured dirge that takes forever to finish the title line at the end of the chorus. They had done a more folk-rock take during the Turn Turn Turn sessions which might have struck them at the time as more of the same but plays far better than this interminable outing.
There Must be Someone I can Turn To sounds sincere, authentic and like the cover version it is. It's good but should it be here? McGuinn absent.
Gunga Din begins with a superbly bright and difficult acoustic arpeggio. A gentle country rock motion tells a tale of sad disappointment and societal rejection. Lovely nimble fingered Telecaster work in the outro. Nothing to complain about, really.
The Woody Guthrie cover Deportee is full country or as close as they close on Sweetheart. Is it bitchy to suggest that McGuinn's vocal sounds like a mix of Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons? Great song, though.
The final track is Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins and reinstates the earlier tradition on Byrds albums of a goofy closing track. After a reconstruction of the Houston countdown Roger comes in with an acoustic guitar and gentle harmonium with a few lines that are over before they've begun.
You can put this album on and leave it on. It's what a Byrds album sounds like when the band is a version that more resembles the ship of Theseus and the repaired beams and masts, for all their faithfulness to the original design, stick out. The half-arsed cover art which McGuinn infamously hated for its corny warped typeface and bizarrely contrary image of a biker who looked more like the rednecks at the end of the movie than the freedom-seeking hippy of the movie. And the shortfalling insistence on the link with the movie that runs out after the first track doesn't help. Not even the barely coherent liner notes by Easy Rider star Peter Fonda can help.
This is an album that begs the faint praise it often draws. Not all bands produce at their best album after album. The Byrds had more than their share of upsets and reversals of fortune that, when seen with clear hindsight, would puzzle the staunchest fan as to why they bothered with the strongest debate held by just when they should have split and found new careers. I'm not a fan of Sweetheart of the Rodeo. I think it's bland and pandering rather than bold. The return to exploratory rock afterward with Dr Byrds was better but then it was followed by this. And there was both good and dire to follow but no further sheer brilliance. McGuinn's relative aloofness from the project had a lot to do with the ongoing saga of the mooted musical Gene Tryp which he envisaged would spring him off to a new and bigger career. This album's lack of force beyond the level of elevated muzak bears witness to its central figure's distance from the centre. Ah well ...
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