Return of the Grievous Angel
A Tribute to Gram Parsons
Almo Sounds
Born Cecil Conners in Winter Haven, Florida in 1946, Gram Parsons is considered the father of “country rock,” which, to some people’s way of thinking, is a horrible thing. True, the work he did with the Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers and on his solo records paved the way for such dross as the Eagles and Poco, but to hold him accountable for that is like holding Chuck Berry to task for Winger. To correct this slight, it only requires a few spins of Parsons’ output to see why he is revered as a genius.
After leaving Florida and spending a bit of time at Harvard, Parsons formed The International Submarine Band in 1965. Heralded as the first wedding of rock energy with country sensibilities, the band’s only album, Safe At Home , is considered a classic. Containing the cuts “Luxury Liner” and “I Still Miss Someone,” the record failed to ignite the record buying public, and Parsons left to join the Byrds.
It is here that the Parsons myth – a legend that has grown, as it happens with dead rock stars, to epic stature, began to germinate. By the time the Byrds released Sweetheart of the Rodeo , Gram had come and gone, leaving the group (supposedly) over a dispute concerning the playing of a concert in South Africa. Or to hang out with Keith Richards, which sounds more likely, since Parsons didn’t show much if any political interests at any other point in his life. Due to legal problems with former producer Lee Hazelwood (he released Safe At Home ), the songs he sang for the record were re-recorded by Roger McGuinn, with Parsons’ vocals not seeing the light of day until the Byrds box set and Sweetheart ‘s re-release in 1997. Sweetheart , even with all the changes, is a wonderful record, with a great country feel. “Hickory Wind,” a Parsons original, shows up here for the first time. Gillian Welch’s version on the tribute disc certainly does justice to the songs haunting beauty.
From the Byrds to the Brothers. After leaving the Byrds, Parsons formed the Flying Burrito Brothers, and with their debut album, The Gilded Palace of Sin , Gram created the musical equivalent of Ginsberg’s Howl or Kerouac’s On the Road . Sin is an amazing work of dedication, vision and grace. From “Sin City” to “Hot Burrito #1” and “Juanita,” this record bristles with rock passion, is swept up with country soul, and contains some of Parsons’ finest songwriting. Beck and Emmylou Harris’ take on “Sin City” on this tribute only hints at the magic this music contains. The heartbreak expressed in “Hot Burrito #1” is wrenching – “I’m your toy/ Your old boy/ And I don’t want no-one but you to love me.” Gets to you every time, even in the Mavericks’ version on the tribute, which is wonderfully sung, but laden with a drum machine track that fits about as well as a tutu on an elephant. The second Burritos release, Burrito Deluxe , paled, and Parsons left the band.
Bored again, Gram went overseas and hung out with the Rolling Stones – which, in retrospect, while it might have generated some great music, probably didn’t do Parsons much good on a personal level. He is considered to have been a major influence on the Stones recording “Wild Horses” and “Dead Flowers” – they certainly sound like him, anyway. But visions of rock star glory filled Parsons’ head, and hanging out with Keith Richards seemed to alter some basic tenets of Gram’s being. Accounts of him after this time seem to focus more on the partying and the drugs, not the music.
Still, in 1972, Parsons recorded GP , his first solo album, followed by Grievous Angel in 1973. The 21 songs on these two records have become standards – from the anguish and heartbreak of “$1,000 Wedding” to the beauty of “She,” these songs are now considered some of the building blocks of modern country and rock music. Artists as varied as Elvis Costello and Bob Mould have covered them, and no self-respecting singer would set foot on a honky-tonk stage without having learned a few of them. Released as a single CD, they become an essential part of any music collection. It was on these records that he showcased his newest discovery, a folk singer he found in a Washington, DC bar. Her name was Emmylou Harris. The duets captured here – “Return of the Grievous Angel,” “We’ll Sweep Out the Ashes,” and others defined a new level of country duo singing, as pretty a joining of voices as ever heard.
No matter how brilliant and bright an artist’s talent may shine, it can never overcome the failings of the person who created it. Parsons was no different. Always fond of excess, Parsons took more and more shelter in the spoon in the days of the early ’70s, becoming increasingly isolated and dependent on drugs. He died on September 19, 1973 in the deserts of Joshua Tree in California, his body loaded with various stimulants. In a bizarre twist, his body was stolen from the Los Angeles International airport, driven back to the desert, and burned, per his wishes. Thus ended the life of a country music giant who, like Hank Williams before, left both a brilliant legacy of work coupled with a twisted, sad life.
Parsons’ stature and the influence of the “Cosmic American Music” he created have only grown since his passing. Emmylou Harris gathered the musicians found here and has created, while not perfect, a fine tribute to a man who taught her, as well as the rest of us, so much. The problem with this record, like most tribute records, is that the line between good and bad is so thin. If your version sounds too much like the original, then why do it? Stray too far from the source, like Wilco’s version of “One Hundred Years From Now,” you run the risk of losing whatever greatness was inherent in the original.
When this tribute works, it works amazingly well. The Cowboy Junkies’ take on “Ooh Las Vegas” breaks the piece down to its base parts and rebuilds, with Margo Timmin’s unearthly vocals transforming Gram’s tale of a down on his luck gambler into a harrowing, desperate look at the end of a rope. “A Song For You” by Whiskeytown succeeds because it sticks to the program, and Ryan Adams’ halting, shaky vocal seems to be channeling Parson’s spirit. Chris Hillman, who was with Gram in the Byrds and the Burritos joins with Steve Earle on “High Fashion Queen,” and turn in a serviceable rendition, one that wouldn’t sound out of place on a barroom jukebox. Harris and the Pretenders open the record with a duet of “She,” with Chrissie Hynde’s voice, in all it’s raspy glory, selling the song.
Not much point in dwelling on the record’s failings. Sheryl Crow shouldn’t have been allowed near a microphone, Lucinda Williams and David Crosby’s take on “Grievous Angel” is overwhelmed by her incredible, but in this case, miscast voice – and you can’t hear Crosby at all, which, say what you will about the walrus, the man can sing. It’s a waste. What this record does, and what it seems Harris wanted to accomplish, is to make you want to go back to the originals, and discover a person she considered a friend, a mentor and a genius. So go ahead and pick this up, in hand with Gilded Palace or the solo sets. What you will take away from the experience of hearing his music will enrich you beyond your imagination. It’s a shame that since his passing, the genre he guided into being has become a bloated, commercial, gutless wasteland, littered with the trash of wannabes who have fingers adept at stealing, but not hearts capable of caring. It was that heart, coupled with fierce vision and a reckless soul that is the genius of Gram Parsons.
