Chapter 21: Folk Revival and Folk Rock
The influence of Bob Dylan’s electrified performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival was immediate and wide-reaching. In the months that followed, a wave of artists began blending folk’s lyrical sensibility with the energy and instrumentation of rock. The charts reflected this transformation: two rival versions of Dylan’s “All I Really Want to Do”—one by the Byrds and another by Sonny and Cher—competed for radio play, while Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction” offered a Dylan-esque, gravelly vocal performance and apocalyptic message that mirrored Dylan’s own protest songs.
Dylan’s influence encouraged many former folk musicians to plug in and reshape their sound. Following the Byrds’ model, a host of new folk-rock groups emerged—most formed by artists who had come out of the early ’60s folk revival and were now embracing drums, electric guitars, and studio production. This shift gave rise to a distinct California folk-rock style, characterized by lush vocal harmonies, shimmering guitars, laid-back rhythms, and sophisticated studio arrangements. It was less about protest and more about atmosphere, introspection, and emotional nuance.
With its expansive entertainment infrastructure—spanning film, television, and music—Los Angeles offered unmatched access to top-tier recording studios, powerful record labels, and influential media networks needed for national success. During the 1960s and 1970s, the city’s countercultural energy began to merge with the reach of the entertainment industry, creating a climate where artistic experimentation coexisted with commercial imperatives. Unlike the raw, grassroots ethos of Greenwich Village or the psychedelic experimentation of San Francisco, L.A. nurtured a more polished and commercially viable version of countercultural expression. This was made possible by the city’s unique blend of industry access and bohemian enclaves.
The Sunset Strip in West Hollywood served as a key cultural and musical artery. Iconic venues like the Troubadour, the Whisky a Go Go, and the Roxy Theatre provided nightly stages for emerging acts, often attracting A&R representatives from major labels. Nearby, the hills of Laurel Canyon became a haven for artists seeking both creative inspiration and communal living. The close-knit canyon scene—home to figures like David Crosby, Joni Mitchell, and members of The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield—embodied a fusion of folk intimacy and Hollywood access.
At the same time, Los Angeles was also the epicenter of the country’s most polished and successful pop music. Producers like Phil Spector revolutionized the industry with his "Wall of Sound" technique, and Brian Wilson of the beach The Beach Boys, Initially marketed as clean-cut surfers, the band quickly evolved into studio pioneers. Major record labels such as Columbia, Capitol, and Elektra had offices and studios across the city, making it easy for artists to move from clubs to contracts. High-fidelity studios like Columbia’s Studio A, United Western Recorders, and Gold Star Studios allowed bands to experiment with layered harmonies, multitrack recording, and advanced production techniques that defined the L.A. sound. This infrastructure supported a seamless blending of acoustic and electric instrumentation, giving folk-rock its shimmering textures and radio-ready clarity. This infrastructure supported a seamless blending of acoustic and electric instrumentation, giving folk-rock its shimmering textures and radio-ready clarity.
One of the most successful exponents of this California sound was the Mamas and the Papas. Though originally formed in New York in 1965, the group relocated to Los Angeles, where they helped define the West Coast musical aesthetic. The group brought together John Phillips and his wife Michelle Phillips, alongside Denny Doherty and Cass Elliot. Cass Elliot was the last to join, and her inclusion came with some internal resistance. John Phillips initially doubted whether her contralto voice would suit his vocal arrangements, and he expressed concern—rooted in the industry’s biases at the time—that her appearance might hinder the group’s commercial prospects. Elliot, who struggled with insecurity about her weight throughout her life, nevertheless proved essential to the band’s sound and chemistry. Despite these early tensions, Michelle Phillips and Denny Doherty advocated for Elliot’s inclusion, ultimately overruling John. The group briefly considered calling themselves the Magic Cyrcle before adopting the name the Mamas & the Papas—reportedly inspired by the Hells Angels, whose female companions were known as “mamas.”
In the spring and summer of 1965, the group retreated to the Virgin Islands to rehearse and reshape their sound. John Phillips, with a deep rooting in the folk tradition, was initially reluctant to embrace contemporary pop. However, Doherty and Elliot helped steer him toward a new direction, influenced by the Beatles and the emerging folk-rock movement. These island rehearsals marked the first time the group experimented with electric instruments.
After returning to New York, the group traveled to Los Angeles to audition for Lou Adler, co-founder of Dunhill Records. The opportunity came through Barry McGuire—of “Eve of Destruction” fame—who had befriended both Elliot and Phillips and had recently signed with Dunhill. The audition was successful, resulting in a deal for two albums a year over five years, with a 5% royalty on 90% of retail sales. As was common at the time, the contract also bundled the group’s management and publishing rights into a single “triple hat” deal. Elliot’s membership in the group became official only after this agreement was finalized.
Before releasing their own material, the Mamas & the Papas made their recording debut singing backup vocals on McGuire’s album This Precious Time. Their first single, “Go Where You Wanna Go,” saw a limited release in November 1965 but failed to chart. That song was quickly withdrawn and replaced with “California Dreamin’,” which reused the same B-side. Released in December 1965 and promoted with a full-page ad in Billboard, “California Dreamin’” became a breakthrough hit, launching the group into national prominence.
Their debut album, If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears (1966), topped the Billboard chart and produced major hits like “California Dreamin’” and “Monday, Monday,” both of which captured a mood of wistful yearning and generational discontent. California Dreamin’” is anchored by a descending chord progression in a minor key, lending the song its brooding, melancholic tone. The arrangement features a prominent flute solo—an unusual choice for a pop single—that adds a haunting, almost ethereal texture. These tracks blended folk lyricism with radio-friendly arrangements, striking a balance between introspection and mass appeal. Later hits like “I Saw Her Again,” “Words of Love,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” and “Creeque Alley” continued this trend, with “Creeque Alley” offering a witty, autobiographical look at the group’s rise from the Greenwich Village and Virgin Islands folk scenes to the heart of the L.A. music industry. As regulars on the Sunset Strip and residents of the burgeoning Laurel Canyon scene, the Mamas and the Papas were deeply embedded in the Los Angeles folk-rock community. Their sound, equal parts countercultural and commercial, reflected the unique interplay of artistic freedom and industry infrastructure that defined the city’s music scene in the mid-1960s.
The Mamas and the Papas’ look and image were also central to their appeal. Though they rarely engaged in overt protest songs, their fashion—flowing clothes, suede fringe, bohemian styling, paisley prints, and a soft hippie aesthetic—connected them visually to the counterculture and folk revival without alienating mainstream audiences.. They represented a more commercialized, palatable version of the folk-rock movement, one that embraced harmony and polish over confrontation. Cass Elliot, affectionately known as “Mama Cass,” became a particularly iconic figure—not just for her powerful, warm contralto voice, but for her charisma, wit, and defiance of conventional beauty standards. She embodied the inclusive spirit of the counterculture and served as a social connector within the L.A. scene. Her Laurel Canyon home became a legendary gathering spot for musicians and artists, hosting informal salons that helped incubate the next wave of Southern California rock—from Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills & Nash to members of the Monkees and the Doors..
By 1968, however, the Mamas and the Papas were unraveling. Internal tensions, romantic entanglements, and substance abuse issues led to their breakup. “Glad to Be Unhappy” would be their final Top 40 hit. Cass Elliot pursued a successful solo career and television appearances before her untimely death in 1974. John and Michelle Phillips divorced, and John battled drug addiction before later touring with his daughter Mackenzie Phillips. The group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998, cementing their legacy as a key voice of the folk-rock era.
Though their music leaned more pop than protest, the Mamas and the Papas played a vital role in the folk-rock movement’s evolution. Their lush harmonies, soft-rock arrangements, and polished production helped define the California sound—a blend of folk’s heart, pop’s accessibility, and rock’s studio sophistication. Alongside other bands such as the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and the Turtles, they helped bring folk-based songwriting into the mainstream and gave a distinctly West Coast flavor to the larger cultural revolution of the 1960s.
Formed in Los Angeles in 1966, Buffalo Springfield brought together a remarkable assembly of musicians: Stephen Stills, Neil Young, Richie Furay, Dewey Martin, Bruce Palmer, and later Jim Messina. While their music contained many elements of folk-rock, their sound defies simple categorization—blending folk, rock, country, and psychedelia into a distinct and influential style. Their breakthrough single, “For What It’s Worth” (1967), is often mistaken as a Vietnam War protest anthem. In truth, Stephen Stills wrote the song in response to the “Sunset Strip riots” of late 1966—a series of tense clashes between young music fans, many of them countercultural youth and musicians, and the Los Angeles Police Department. The unrest was sparked by the enforcement of a 10 p.m. curfew and plans to demolish Pandora’s Box, a beloved nightclub at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Crescent Heights that had become a hub for the city’s burgeoning rock scene.
Tensions between local youth and law enforcement had been mounting, as the police cracked down on long-haired teens and music lovers who flocked to the Strip. On the night of November 12, peaceful protests escalated into confrontations, resulting in over a hundred arrests and wide press coverage. The event came to symbolize the growing generational divide and backlash against youth culture. Witnessing these events firsthand, Stills captured the uneasy atmosphere in “For What It’s Worth,” pairing haunting guitar harmonics with lyrics that subtly evoke a sense of creeping authoritarianism and social uncertainty—“There’s something happening here / What it is ain’t exactly clear.”
Musically, the song is defined by Neil Young’s shimmering guitar harmonics, which give it an eerie, bell-like quality. Harmonics are produced by lightly touching the guitar strings at precise nodal points rather than pressing them fully, creating chime-like overtones that ring out distinctively. Coupled with the relaxed rhythm and call-and-response vocal lines, this technique helped the track stand apart from typical folk protest songs, marking a pivotal moment in the emergence of West Coast folk rock.
Their self-titled debut album showcased the band’s versatility and strong musicianship. Primarily written by Stills and Young, it blended introspective folk with the energy and edge of rock. Tracks like “Sit Down, I Think I Love You” leaned toward folk rock, while “Go and Say Goodbye” foreshadowed the country rock style that Furay and others would develop alongside contemporaries such as the Byrds and Bob Dylan’s electric phase. By late 1967, their second album, Buffalo Springfield Again, revealed a harder, more experimental edge. Songs like “Mr. Soul” featured gritty, Rolling Stones-inspired guitar riffs; “Bluebird” combined soaring vocals with fiery guitar solos; and “Hung Upside Down” spotlighted the band’s instrumental prowess.
The ambitious “Broken Arrow,” written and sung by Neil Young, pushed Buffalo Springfield’s sound far beyond traditional folk rock. The track unfolds in three distinct sections, each in a different time signature, and is interspersed with layered sound effects and musical fragments that reflect the song’s surreal, introspective tone. It opens with a burst of applause—not from a Buffalo Springfield performance but sampled from a Beatles concert—and the studio-recorded opening of “Mr. Soul,” the track that precedes it on the album Buffalo Springfield Again. These cues immediately signal the album’s self-referential and experimental nature.
Each verse introduces a contrasting mood and sonic palette. The second section begins with the sound of an audience booing, followed by a calliope playing a distorted and dissonant rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” evoking a carnival-like atmosphere tinged with irony. Later, a military-style snare drum rolls in gradually, growing in intensity, before yielding to a jazz combo improvisation—clarinet and piano weaving freely—before fading into a recorded heartbeat that slowly disappears. The song’s instrumentation features organ, bass, drums, and acoustic guitar, but the textures are intentionally fragmented and disorienting.
Lyrically, “Broken Arrow” uses surreal imagery to explore the emotional toll of fame, adolescent alienation, and existential despair. Each verse ends with a haunting refrain invoking the figure of a solitary, symbolic Native American:
Did you see them, did you see them?
Did you see them in the river?
They were there to wave to you.
Could you tell that the empty-quivered
Brown-skinned Indian on the banks
That were crowded and narrow,
Held a broken arrow?
Young layers autobiographical reflection and social critique within this poetic frame, subtly referencing both his own disillusionment—a hallmark of the folk rock idiom, which often fused personal narrative with broader cultural commentary
In hindsight, Buffalo Springfield’s lasting legacy may lie more in the influential groups its members spawned than in their own relatively brief discography. After the breakup, Richie Furay and Jim Messina co-founded Poco, pioneering the country rock sound that would later influence bands like the Eagles. Stephen Stills joined forces with David Crosby (formerly of the Byrds) and Graham Nash (formerly of the Hollies) to form Crosby, Stills & Nash—soon joined by Neil Young—creating one of the defining supergroups of the era. Their intricate harmonies, socially conscious lyrics, and blend of acoustic and electric sounds shaped 1970s rock. Neil Young’s subsequent solo career combined introspective songwriting with fierce guitar work, cementing his status as a rock icon. Other members contributed to projects like the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, further extending Buffalo Springfield’s influence. While their own time together was short, the band seeded a network of acts whose cultural and musical impact far outlasted the group itself.