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| Gram Parsons, the patron saint of country rock |
I was thinking about my previous post about solo albums, and
in particular my assorted ramblings regarding the magnificent post-Byrds solo career of Gene Clark, who released three
collaborative albums in the 60’s and three more proper solo albums in the early
70’s that have come to be regarded as absolute classics. It got me thinking about country rock in
general. Of course, country music and
rock and roll share ancestry going back to the 50’s, before rock became more of
an amalgamation of country, blues, R&B, and pop. But it was in the mid 60’s that artists first
tried to find some kind of middle ground between traditional country and post-Beatles rock. The mid 60’s were a time where many artists
were looking back to rock’s multitudinous roots; for example, the explosion of
interest in American blues was instrumental in the burgeoning English rock
scene, and artists such as the Yardbirds,
Faces, Rolling Stones, and John
Mayall’s Bluesbreakers were delving deeply into an electrified form of
blues. Folk and traditional music was
also receiving greater attention as well.
While artists as varied as Bob Dylan, and the aforementioned Stones and Beatles flirted with country sounds on occasional songs early in their careers, country rock really arose as a distinct genre of rock in southern California in the mid'60's with a small and incestuous group of musicians who all played together or saw one another play. California might at first blush seem to be an unusual place for such a venture to take place, but actually since the 30's Dust Bowl migrations California had received a massive influx of migrants from Oklahoma, Texas, and Arkansas among other states, all of whom brought their love of, and ability to make, country & western music. Honky tonk towns like Bakersfield, which is a major oil and ranching town, aren't much different from similar cities in the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles. I actually lived in Bakersfield for a short time in the early 70's and am pretty familiar with it's rural "charms".
In the 60's this migration continued as urbanization drove people into cities like Los Angeles and San Diego. Moreover, as the Beatles hit America as a bona fide phenomenon, young people started moving to Los Angeles (and New York City and San Francisco and Memphis and Nashville) to become music stars. One such group was the Dillards. Brothers Rod Dillard (who played guitar) and Doug Dillard (who played banjo) left Missouri and headed to California in the early 60's. The Dillards' sound was rooted in but not strictly limited by traditional bluegrass as well as folk. They quickly integrated into LA's burgeoning folk scene, which was also rediscovering bluegrass at this time. The Dillards quickly received acclaim (they were even on TV's Andy Griffith Show in 1963) and cut one of LA's first true bluegrass records, Back Porch Bluegrass highlighted by Doug's almost insanely fast banjo picking, which was so lightning fast it brought up charges that their records were sped up (they weren't). However, their album didn't sell, nor did their next two, Live . . . Almost and the more traditional Pickin' and Fiddlin', which was their first collaboration with country fiddler Byron Berline. Their 1966 single "Nobody Knows" is considered by some to be the first true country rock release, though the rock aspect is filtered through a Byrds-influenced folk rock. Moreover, their 1968 album Wheatstraw Suite (which contained "Knows") was massively influential and is one of several seminal country rock albums released that year. Another pioneering LA bluegrass outfit, the Kentucky Colonels, featured guitarist Clarence White, who would work with the Byrds, Gram Parsons and other country rock pioneers.
Indeed, if anyone could be said to be at ground zero of the country rock explosion, it was the Byrds. The sea change in American rock created by the immense popularity of the Beatles in America post-1964 essentially crippled the American acoustic folk movement, and Dylan going electric at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival gave folk its death blow. In the new post-Beatles, post-electric Dylan world, many artists attempted to produce an electric folk/rock hybrid, and none were more successful than the Byrds. Their singles "Turn Turn Turn" and "Mr. Tambourine Man" were hugely successful, and for a time became America's "answer" to the Beatles.
But the Byrds had an eclectic background, and Chris Hillman and Gene Clark both had musical roots in bluegrass and country. Hillman played in the seminal San Diego folk/bluegrass group the Scottsville Squirrel Barkers while Clark's childhood in Missouri had immersed him in country and rockabilly. As early as their second album, 1965's Turn! Turn! Turn!, the Byrds covered a country song, "A Satisfied Mind" (a Porter Wagoner song), though this was not done in a particularly country style and was instead done in a psychedelic folk rock manner. On their next album, 1966's Fifth Dimension, their song "Mr. Spaceman" has country overtones but is still more of a jangly folk-rock exercise. It wasn't until 1967's Younger Than Yesterday that the more overt country influence came to the fore, specifically on three of Chris Hillman's compositions, "Have You Seen Her Face", "The Girl With No Name", and even more so on "Time Between", which features Clarence White's country guitar picking as well as acoustic guitar by country singer Vern Gosdin. Their cover of Carol King's "Wasn't Born to Follow" has weird country picking fused with psychedelic guitar and Moog work while "Change Is Now" has some very distinct country guitar work by Clarence White and James Burton as well. Other folk rock bands like Hearts and Flowers (which featured future Eagle Bernie Leadon), the Buffalo Springfield, and even the Lovin' Spoonful were also experimenting with country and bluegrass flourishes at this time as well.
But if country rock has a true patron saint, it was Gram Parsons. Parsons was one of the most unique and legendary figures in the history of rock and roll. He was born in 1946 into two prominent Southern families, and grew up privileged though rebellious. While still in high school, Parsons played with a number of incipient rock bands before finding some small success in the then-burgeoning folk scene, joining the Shilos in 1963.
In 1965, Parsons went north to attend Harvard University,
where he soon dropped out, but not before hearing Merle Haggard and experiencing a musical epiphany. Shortly after, Parsons and guitarist John Neuse and some other members of the Harvard folk scene had
formed a band which they called the International Submarine Band. Neuse is widely credited with convincing
Parsons to pursue a country rock approach, which he then did with vigor. The Submarine Band, despite their
quasi-psychedelic name, played a twangy, primitive form of neo-country/rock
fusion, and recorded an album released in 1968, Safe at Home, that showcased this startling
new sound. Parsons originals like
“Luxury Liner” and “Do You Know How It Feels To Be Lonesome” sounded perfectly
at home next to covers of classic country songs by Merle Haggard and Johnny
Cash.
By the time this album was released, however, ISB had ceased
to exist. After moving to Los Angeles
around 1967 (prior to this the band had relocated to New York City but had
failed to achieve much notice), Parsons hooked up with Byrds bassist Chris Hillman,
who then recommended him as a replacement for the recently departed Michael Clarke and David Crosby. Parsons left
ISB and joined the Byrds in time for the recording of Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Sweetheart was originally conceived by
Byrds leader Roger McGuinn as a
double concept album in which the Byrds would explore all major facets of
American popular music of the 20th century—bluegrass, blues, jazz,
R&B, rock, and even supposedly electronic music. But Parsons prevailed upon them to focus on
the country aspect, and, like ISB’s first and only album, Sweetheart, recorded in Nashville in spring of 1968, ended up being
a mix of Parsons-penned originals and covers of country standards. While the entire album is excellent, two of
the former stand out. “Hickory Wind” is
a sort of nostalgic lament for his lost Southern roots, and has become one of
Parsons’ signature songs. Similarly,
“One Hundred Years From Now” has Gram telling a woman to ignore the gossip of
friends and neighbors who are telling her that he’s unreliable; I actually
prefer the slower, sparer take #2 that’s on the extended and remastered version
of Sweetheart. Their covers of Bob Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” and “Nothing Was Delivered”
are excellent too; the former is jaunty, and McGuinn sings it in a very
Dylanesque manner, while the latter injects a few more traditional Byrds style
vocal harmonies, and both are well seasoned with Lloyd Green’s pedal steel guitar.
Their take on Woody Guthrie’s
“Pretty Boy Floyd”, which lionizes the legendary Depression era gangster, is
highlighted by Chris Hillman’s
beautiful mandolin and John Hartford’s
sweet fiddle. Hillman takes lead vocals
on two lyrically contrasting tracks, the
Louvin Brother’s “I Am a Pilgrim” and Merle
Haggard’s “Life in Prison”. Still,
even in such esteemed and talented company, Parsons and his songs stand out.
It should be kept in mind that at this point in the late
60’s, the divide between traditional country and rock and roll was arguably the
widest it would ever be. Rock, and the
youth/hippie culture which was its greatest proponent, was considered a bunch
of filthy degenerates, long-haired sissies, and anti-American rabble rousers by
the extremely conservative country establishment. Country, in turn, was widely
derided as corn-pone redneck music by rock and roll fans (one year later the
show Hee Haw would debut, a show
that did nothing to dispel this image of country as cornball and hokey but that
also brought the music of country great Buck
Owens, who was a tremendous influence on Gram Parsons and some other
country rock pioneers, to a larger audience).
The Byrds were not made particularly welcome in Music City, which
considered them a bunch of drugged out longhairs.
Therefore it probably wasn’t surprising when Sweetheart tanked; particularly
considering how radically different it was from the previous Byrds album; in fact, most music
savants would be hard pressed to name an album by a name band that was more of
a departure from their signature sound, unless of course you count Vanilla Ice’s foray into douche metal
after his ignominious departure from douche rap. Hillman and Parsons both departed the Byrds
soon after and formed the Flying Burrito
Brothers. In a conventional sense,
the Burritos were a logical extension of what Parsons, Hillman and the rest of
the Byrds created on Sweetheart of the
Rodeo, and in some ways this album makes more sense when considered as part
of the Burrito’s canon and not the Byrds’.
They were joined by Parsons’ former ISB
bandmate Chris Etheridge on bass and
piano and “Sneaky” Pete Kleinow on
pedal steel guitar. Ex-Byrd Michael Clarke, who had also been
working with ex-Byrd Gene Clark’s
post-Byrds band Dillard & Clark,
later joined on drums.
The Burritos released their debut album, Gilded Palace of Sin, in 1969 and like Sweetheart of the Rodeo it was and is
widely recognized as an instant and monumental country rock classic. “Christine’s
Tune” has Hillman and Parsons swapping harmonies over a jaunty, propulsive beat
punctuated by Klenow’s occasional blasts of pedal steel guitar through a
fuzzbox, arguably the closest Parsons got to what he liked to call “Cosmic
American Music”, which splits the difference between acid damaged psychedelia
and hardcore Bakersfield country-tonk.
“Wheels”, with its underwater-sounding guitar licks and yet more fuzzed
out guitar from Klenow, is a close second in this regard. “Hot Burrito #1” is a slow, sad,
introspective country ballad by Parsons, while “Hot Burrito #2” is a little
more upbeat with yet more jarring acid country guitar licks and some big
beautiful gospel-tinged organ. “Sin
City”, a cautionary tale of the mercenary nature of the Los Angeles recording
industry, was later covered by Beck and
Emmylou Harris. “Juanita” is another great Parsons country
weeper that has elements of autobiography (particularly when it discusses the
bottle of wine and the pills off the shelf).
But my favorite song on this album, and one of my favorite Parsons song
of all time, is their cover of the soul classic “Dark End of the Street” (this
song would later achieve wider dissemination when it was performed by fictional
Irish soul band the Commitments in
the movie of the same name). Parson’s
high lonesome voice and the twangy, almost garage rock guitar licks accompanying
it, bring a newfound winsomeness to this yearning classic. The Burritos also effectively cover another
soul staple, “Do Right Woman”.
The Burritos toured to support Palace but, largely because of the aforementioned wide divide
between (then-current) psychedelic rock and country music, were mostly met with
puzzlement and derision. This situation was
exacerbated by Parson’s Dionysian appetite for drugs ranging from cocaine to
psychedelics, which adversely affected his performances. At this point Chris Etheridge left the band, Hillman moved over to bass, and former Hillman bandmate in the Scottsville Squirrel Barkers and future Eagle Bernie Leadon joined on rhythm guitar.
The inclusion of the soul covers on Gilded Palace of Sin reflected Parsons’ participation in the big,
amorphous jam sessions with Delaney and
Bonnie (which would eventually give birth to Eric Clapton’s Derek and the Dominoes, culminating with his career
apogee “Layla”). It was through these
jam sessions that he supposedly again hooked up with Keith
Richards of the Rolling Stones,
which would usher in yet another amazing Parsons interlude. Parsons had met Richards during the Byrds' tour of England to support Sweetheart and instantly connected with him. At this time the Stones were completing recording of Let It Bleed, which contains some of
their first real forays into country tinged rock, as can be seen on songs like
“Country Honk”, their countrified version of "Honky Tonk Women", to which Gram convinced them to add fiddle player Byron Berline, who had played with Dillard & Clark. Parsons therefore fit in both pharmaceutically and
musically with the Stones during this period.
It was with Parsons’ influence that Keith and Mick wrote and recorded the bona fide Stones country rock classic, “Wild Horses”; Parsons covered the latter on the
Burrito’s second album, Burrito Deluxe,
a year before the original found release on the Stone’s 1971 Sticky
Fingers album. In general Deluxe was a less traditional, more upbeat album than Palace, but it also reflects Gram's growing indifference to the Burritos project; “Lazy Days” is more of a
throwback to early rock and roll and has a twangy rockabilly beat torn straight
from the Chuck Berry playbook, and “High Fashion Queen”, while clearly
retaining some county flourishes is again more of a straight-ahead rocker. “Man in the Fog” features new member (and
future Eagle) Bernie Leadon’s dobro and is jaunty and almost Cajun-sounding. But overall Burrito Deluxe has fewer standout tracks than its predecessor, and
it too was a commercial flop. The Burritos gigged listlessly, with perhaps their highest profile gig coming, appropriately enough, in support of the Stones at their infamous Altamont concert. Parsons left the Burritos soon after as his performances continued to deteriorate (he was actually asked to leave by Hillman). Gram and his girlfriend ended up spending part of 1971 living a dissolute life at Villa Nellcote in the south of
France with the Stones as they recorded their sprawling, magnificent Exile on Main Street. He was
eventually asked to leave by Richards’ girlfriend Anita Pallenberg for his negative influence on Keith (take a minute
to contemplate that), but also supposedly by Mick because of his professional
jealousy of the time Parsons and Richards spent together musically.
Attempting a solo career upon his return to the States,
Parsons then had yet another magical moment, bringing Emmylou Harris on board for his solo debut, GP.
If Gram Parsons had never done anything else in his all-too-brief
career, just for being part of the team that discovered Emmylou Harris (actually it was Gram's successor in the Burritos, Rick Roberts, who actually discovered her), who has
(in this reviewer’s opinion anyway) the most sublime, magnificent country voice
of any female artist in history, he’d be legendary. For GP Parsons
brought on board a highly respected and capable set of sidemen, many of whom
had played with Ricky Nelson and Elvis himself, and as such had
impeccable rockabilly credentials. Among
them were pianist Glen Hardin and
guitarist James Burton, both of whom
had played extensively with The King
as well as Merle Haggard in the late 60’s and into the 70’s. Hardin and Burton had both also played with Rick(y) Nelson's band throughout the 60's, including his forays into country in '67. Gram's selection of them (as well as the other less noted but no less talented and professional musicians that played on both his solo albums) was puzzling but inspired. It was puzzling because most people in the rock establishment had nothing but contempt for Elvis and his Vegas stage show at the time, which was considered tacky and about as UNrock as you can get. It was also puzzling because at that time neither Hardin nor Burton had particularly solid credentials in the country music establishment either; their work with Rick Nelson, while admired decades later, at the time was considered an obvious attempt of a former teenbopper rock idol to demonstrate his maturity and wasn't particularly admired by anyone in the country music business. However, it was inspired because Hardin, Burton and the others were consummate professionals whose crispness and reliability brought out the best from the ever-stoned Parsons.
Unfortunately, GP was no more successful than his ISB or Flying Burrito Brothers albums despite this high quality. But from the first time she opens her mouth on “We’ll Sweep Out the Ashes in the Morning”, Emmylou gives notice that one of the most rightly celebrated and treasured voices in the history of music has arrived. Country music can be divided into B.E. and A.E, Before Emmy and Anno Emmy. “A Song For You” and “She” are softer, more tender, and highlight the interplay between Parsons and Emmylou ; “Song For You” in particular illustrates how much she brings to this equal collaboration of talents. “Streets of Baltimore” is a Parsons-Etheridge writing collaboration, and here Emmylou just provides sweet, subtle backing vocals. Perhaps the best track here is “That’s All It Took”, focusing as it does on Gram and Emmylou’s sweetly intertwined vocals and Byron Berline’s (who had played with Dillard & Clark) equally smooth fiddle playing. “Cry One More Time” is Gram’s take on horn-and piano-heavy roadhouse blues (with a bit of twangy countrybilly guitar thrown in for good measure), and a honking sax punctuates the peppy “Big Mouth Blues”, distinctly non-country touches all but they expand the reach and scope of the music in an admirable way.
Unfortunately, GP was no more successful than his ISB or Flying Burrito Brothers albums despite this high quality. But from the first time she opens her mouth on “We’ll Sweep Out the Ashes in the Morning”, Emmylou gives notice that one of the most rightly celebrated and treasured voices in the history of music has arrived. Country music can be divided into B.E. and A.E, Before Emmy and Anno Emmy. “A Song For You” and “She” are softer, more tender, and highlight the interplay between Parsons and Emmylou ; “Song For You” in particular illustrates how much she brings to this equal collaboration of talents. “Streets of Baltimore” is a Parsons-Etheridge writing collaboration, and here Emmylou just provides sweet, subtle backing vocals. Perhaps the best track here is “That’s All It Took”, focusing as it does on Gram and Emmylou’s sweetly intertwined vocals and Byron Berline’s (who had played with Dillard & Clark) equally smooth fiddle playing. “Cry One More Time” is Gram’s take on horn-and piano-heavy roadhouse blues (with a bit of twangy countrybilly guitar thrown in for good measure), and a honking sax punctuates the peppy “Big Mouth Blues”, distinctly non-country touches all but they expand the reach and scope of the music in an admirable way.
Parsons’ final album, Grievous
Angel, was sadly released posthumously, as Parsons had overdosed on drugs the
previous fall. It contains two of my
favorite Parsons compositions, “Return of the Grievous Angel”, a sweet honky
tonk that Harris (and Hardin’s understated but moving piano) elevates to
mellifluous sonic poetry with her yearning voice. By the time this was recorded, Parsons was in
his final drug-induced spiral, while Emmylou’s star was starting to shine in a
way that couldn’t be ignored (despite Parsons’ widow’s deliberate attempts to
downplay her contributions to this album upon its release). “Hearts on Fire” is almost dirge-like but
again Harris’ vocals ring out like a clarion call. But for me the acme of this album is “In My Hour
of Darkness”, which walks a perfect line between being slow and being measured
and again Harris’ contribution elevates this from being merely wonderful to
being utterly sublime.
After Parsons’ departure and subsequent death the Burritos
continued with Rick Roberts, and
while they were clearly not the same band after Parsons’ departure, his own
composition “Colorado” is nearly the equal of Parsons’ many evocative country
ballads. Maybe it’s because Colorado has
been my own home now for almost fifteen years but this song has always been a
huge favorite of mine despite Parsons’ absence.
The definitive version of this song is the live version on Close Encounters to the West Coast,
which highlights Klenow’s ringing pedal steel guitar and Roberts’ decidedly
non-twangy and moving vocals.
The final leg in country rock’s holy triumvirate aside from
Gene Clark and Gram Parsons is Richie
Furay, who quite honestly doesn't get nearly the recognition he deserves. Furay was a founding member
of the seminal 60’s folk rock outfit Buffalo
Springfield along with Neil Young
and Stephen Stills but after the
breakup of that band Furay formed Poco with
fellow Springfield alumnus Jim Messina
in 1968. Poco leaned farther toward the
rock end of the country rock spectrum and were characterized by Furay’s
distinctive, higher pitched vocals.
Released in 1969, Pickin’ Up the
Pieces is equal parts psychedelic-tinged rock, country-tinged rock, and
folk-tinged rock that makes it eerily similar to the Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Their take on country rock tends to be more
upbeat and peppy than Parsons’, particularly on songs like “Calico Lady”,
“Short Changed” (with its fuzzed out , echoe-y guitar and wild screaming
vocals), the jaunty “Pickin’ Up the Pieces”,
the instrumental “Grand Junction” (named, presumably for the town on the
western slope of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains), and “Consequently So Long”, but
on ballads like “Tomorrow”, Furay shows himself to be a near equal of Parsons himself.
Poco continued to release excellent country rock albums
throughout the 70’s, and achieved a breakthrough with 1978’s hit single “Crazy
Love”. My favorite songs of theirs come
off their fourth album A Good Feelin' To Know, and their fifth album, 1973’s Crazy Eyes. "Go and Say Goodbye" and the title track off Good Feelin' are vintage Poco sway-and-clap feel-good ditties. “A Right Along” is more of a groovy cowboy
boogie with a terrific rock riff punctuated with country guitar flourishes,
another great example of Parsons’ “Cosmic American Music”. “Magnolia” is like a doleful variant of the
story song “Wildfire”, but “Let’s Dance Tonight” is a little more upbeat.
Poco were never as respected as any of Gram Parsons' projects (ISB, the Burritos, his own solo career), but here's the thing: Poco are way more fun to listen to. Gram's music is so dense and pure that it's not music you typically throw on for a quick listen. I definitely get in moods where I want to hear some of his work, but I have to be in that mood and I only get into it occasionally. In contrast, I can throw some Poco on pretty much any lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon and it puts a smile on my face. Richie Furay's take on country rock focused on the joy of it--the porch-sittin', toe-tappin', two-steppin' variant of country rather than country as Serious Art Form. Furay and Poco made music that was fully intended to put a smile on your face and a happy hitch in your step rather than bowl you over with its country authenticity.
Furay left Poco in 1973 and became part of one of the most interesting musical projects of the early 70’s. Superagent David Geffen, flush with his prior supergroup success in managing Crosby, Stills, and Nash and the country rock of the Eagles, decided to see if lightning would strike again and put together a country supergroup, consisting of Furay, former Byrd and Flying Burrito Brother Chris Hillman, and periennial musical sideliner J.D Souther. Souther is sort of an unsung LA country rock hero, who famously lived with (and played in the band Longbranch Pennywhistle with) future Eagle Glenn Frey—Jackson Browne was their downstairs neighbor. Souther ended writing songs for the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, and others. The band split up the singing and songwriting, and the music was quite top notch. The highlight to me, and one of my favorite obscure songs of the 70’s, is the leadoff song “Fallin’ in Love”. Furay takes lead vocals here and the song rolls along like a good time feel-good 70’s country lite rock ditty that the Eagles would have been proud to have written. Furay sings the hell out of it, and his genial, high pitched vocals (with just the right amount of twang) drive this song along with sweet organ rills that give it an almost gospel feel. This should have been a massive hit given how popular the “California sound” was at this time; anyone who is a fan of the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, etc. would love this great, happy song, it's one of my favorite songs of all time. It’s followed by Hillman’s more sedate “Heavenly Fire”, but Souther’s “The Heartbreak” is another fantastic, strutting country rock number and his vocals are strong and firm. Furay returns with his ballad “Believe Me”, another standout track that Furay really puts his full force into. “Border Town” has a funky guitar line that reminds me of the Doobie Brothers’ “Listen to the Music”. I also like Hillman’s up-tempo “Safe at Home” and “Rise and Fall”. Souther Furay Hillman Band did respectably, reaching #11 on the U.S. album charts, but was nowhere near as successful as either their inspiration (Crosby, Stills, and Nash) or their contemporary competition (the Eagles). Its follow-up, Trouble in Paradise, was less countrified and emphasize the funkier rock elements of their sound; “Move Me Real Slow” almost sounds like a Joe Walsh song. SHF ended up a mere footnote (albeit an interesting one, and as mentioned I consider “Falling In Love” at least as enjoyable as anything Gram Parsons ever wrote or recorded), but listening to their two albums is almost like peering into an alternate universe in which these guys became huge stars while the Eagles toiled in obscurity. Furay’s “For Someone I Love” sounds eerily like mid-era Eagles, “New Kid In Town” or “Best of My Love” for example, just breezy mid-70’s California lite rock, while Souther’s Latin-influenced “Mexico” sounds like a lost bastard son of Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville”.
But the country rock outfit who had the first major hit was Long Beach's own Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, who had been around in different incarnations since the mid-60's but broke up and reformed in the late 60's. Their folky cover of the song "Mr. Bojangles" off their 1970 album Uncle Charlie & His Dog Teddy was a big hit that year. In 1972 they released the massive triple album May the Circle Be Unbroken, in which they collaborated on many country and traditional standards with respected older country musicians such as Maybelle Carter, Doc Watson, Earl Scruggs, and Merle Travis. I'm still working my way through the Dirt Band's catalog, there's so much here and I just wasn't familiar with it until recently. Another country rock pioneer, and a surprising on at that, is former Monkee Michael Nesmith, who released four country rock albums in the early 70's. I am still exploring these albums but so far some of my favorites are "Nine Times Blue" and "Keys to the Car" off Magnetic South, the jaunty "Silver Moon" off Loose Salute, and the simple, spare and elegant work of nearly everything off And the Hits Just Keep Comin', but notably "Roll with the Flow", the beautiful "Two Different Roads", and "Keep On".
Poco were never as respected as any of Gram Parsons' projects (ISB, the Burritos, his own solo career), but here's the thing: Poco are way more fun to listen to. Gram's music is so dense and pure that it's not music you typically throw on for a quick listen. I definitely get in moods where I want to hear some of his work, but I have to be in that mood and I only get into it occasionally. In contrast, I can throw some Poco on pretty much any lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon and it puts a smile on my face. Richie Furay's take on country rock focused on the joy of it--the porch-sittin', toe-tappin', two-steppin' variant of country rather than country as Serious Art Form. Furay and Poco made music that was fully intended to put a smile on your face and a happy hitch in your step rather than bowl you over with its country authenticity.
Furay left Poco in 1973 and became part of one of the most interesting musical projects of the early 70’s. Superagent David Geffen, flush with his prior supergroup success in managing Crosby, Stills, and Nash and the country rock of the Eagles, decided to see if lightning would strike again and put together a country supergroup, consisting of Furay, former Byrd and Flying Burrito Brother Chris Hillman, and periennial musical sideliner J.D Souther. Souther is sort of an unsung LA country rock hero, who famously lived with (and played in the band Longbranch Pennywhistle with) future Eagle Glenn Frey—Jackson Browne was their downstairs neighbor. Souther ended writing songs for the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, and others. The band split up the singing and songwriting, and the music was quite top notch. The highlight to me, and one of my favorite obscure songs of the 70’s, is the leadoff song “Fallin’ in Love”. Furay takes lead vocals here and the song rolls along like a good time feel-good 70’s country lite rock ditty that the Eagles would have been proud to have written. Furay sings the hell out of it, and his genial, high pitched vocals (with just the right amount of twang) drive this song along with sweet organ rills that give it an almost gospel feel. This should have been a massive hit given how popular the “California sound” was at this time; anyone who is a fan of the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, etc. would love this great, happy song, it's one of my favorite songs of all time. It’s followed by Hillman’s more sedate “Heavenly Fire”, but Souther’s “The Heartbreak” is another fantastic, strutting country rock number and his vocals are strong and firm. Furay returns with his ballad “Believe Me”, another standout track that Furay really puts his full force into. “Border Town” has a funky guitar line that reminds me of the Doobie Brothers’ “Listen to the Music”. I also like Hillman’s up-tempo “Safe at Home” and “Rise and Fall”. Souther Furay Hillman Band did respectably, reaching #11 on the U.S. album charts, but was nowhere near as successful as either their inspiration (Crosby, Stills, and Nash) or their contemporary competition (the Eagles). Its follow-up, Trouble in Paradise, was less countrified and emphasize the funkier rock elements of their sound; “Move Me Real Slow” almost sounds like a Joe Walsh song. SHF ended up a mere footnote (albeit an interesting one, and as mentioned I consider “Falling In Love” at least as enjoyable as anything Gram Parsons ever wrote or recorded), but listening to their two albums is almost like peering into an alternate universe in which these guys became huge stars while the Eagles toiled in obscurity. Furay’s “For Someone I Love” sounds eerily like mid-era Eagles, “New Kid In Town” or “Best of My Love” for example, just breezy mid-70’s California lite rock, while Souther’s Latin-influenced “Mexico” sounds like a lost bastard son of Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville”.
But the country rock outfit who had the first major hit was Long Beach's own Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, who had been around in different incarnations since the mid-60's but broke up and reformed in the late 60's. Their folky cover of the song "Mr. Bojangles" off their 1970 album Uncle Charlie & His Dog Teddy was a big hit that year. In 1972 they released the massive triple album May the Circle Be Unbroken, in which they collaborated on many country and traditional standards with respected older country musicians such as Maybelle Carter, Doc Watson, Earl Scruggs, and Merle Travis. I'm still working my way through the Dirt Band's catalog, there's so much here and I just wasn't familiar with it until recently. Another country rock pioneer, and a surprising on at that, is former Monkee Michael Nesmith, who released four country rock albums in the early 70's. I am still exploring these albums but so far some of my favorites are "Nine Times Blue" and "Keys to the Car" off Magnetic South, the jaunty "Silver Moon" off Loose Salute, and the simple, spare and elegant work of nearly everything off And the Hits Just Keep Comin', but notably "Roll with the Flow", the beautiful "Two Different Roads", and "Keep On".
The Eagles of
course surfed out of LA’s country rock scene to worldwide fame and fortune at
around this time, becoming one of the biggest selling acts of the 70’s and all
time with their blend of country touches, rock elements, and a bushelful of
mellow 70’s vibes. All four original members had paid considerable country rock dues prior to the formation of the Eagles. Randy Meisner was an original member of Poco before personality disputes drove him out during the recording of the debut album, and he later was also a formative member of Rick Nelson's Stone Canyon Band. Bernie Leadon had played with just about every other country/folk rock band on the LA scene, including the Scottsville Squirrel Barkers, Hearts & Flowers, Dillard & Clark, and the Flying Burrito Brothers (for the recording of their second album); in his post-Eagles career he even briefly joined the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band! Drummer Don Henley was a member of Texas country rock ensemble Shiloh, who had been signed to their record label on the insistence of Kenny Rogers. Glenn Frey had been in Longbranch Pennywhistle with J.D. Souther when he approached superagent David Geffen in 1970 about getting a record contract; Geffen reputedly told him he needed to be in a group, and he quickly approached Henley who agreed to join him, initially as the touring and support band for Linda Ronstadt. However, they eventually signed with superagent David Geffen's Asylum Record label and released their self-titled debut album the next year. My favorite songs by
the Eagles are their more mellow cuts like “Take It Easy” off their debut album
and “One of these Nights” and “Peaceful Easy Feeling”. But on this first album there is much more balance between the mellow 70's vibe of Frey and the more traditional country rock approach of Leadon and Meisner. Leadon's "Earlybird" and Meisner's "Tryin' are much closer to the groovy country of Poco. Their second album, Desperado, was better known for Frey's "Tequila Sunrise" and Henley's "Desperado", but "Twenty-one" is a brisk country two-stepper and "Saturday Night" is a cowboy campfire song with Crosby, Stills, and Nash style vocal harmonies.
But in the late 70’s, The Eagles drifted farther and farther from their country roots, and country rock itself started falling out of favor as more urban music such as punk, new
wave and disco started making greater inroads on the music charts. However, in the early
80’s it started to be revived, primarily in the place where it originated: Southern California. This movement was dubbed “cowpunk”, a term
most of the artists detested. Three
Southern California post-punk bands in particular did much to re-introduce
country elements into rock music. The
first of these bands of course was X,
who were fairly accomplished musicians when they formed in 1977-1978 and were
also older than snotty punks like the
Germs and so had a longer view and greater appreciation of rock music and
its roots in particular (Billy Zoom
was in fact a noted rockabilly guitarist prior to joining X). In 1985 the members of X and a few other
friends released an album under the name the
Knitters entitled Poor Little Critter
on the Road which is a magnificent melding of country, blues, folk, and the
energy of post-punk. There are several
highlights here; John and Exene’s
dual vocal romp through the traditional song “Walking Cane” is outstanding and
showcases Doe’s ever-maturing country singing ability. Indeed, Doe’s solo cover of Merle Haggard’s “Silver Wings” is one
of my favorite country (rock) songs of all time, just a sweet, beautiful song
and Doe’s voice really shines here. He
and Exene glide through one of the punkiest songs in X’s catalog, “New World”,
giving it an acoustic twang that would make it not stand out on a country
station. And finally, Doe’s own “Cryin’
but My Tears Are Far Away” is an out and out classic, highlighted by Martin Lund’s subtle accordion playing
and Dave Alvin’s magnificent
electric guitar picking. This too is
another fabulous song.
At around the same time, LA’s Long Ryders were emerging as the torch bearer for the whole Byrds jangly/country sound. They released their first full-length album
in 1984, Native Sons, that sounds
like nothing more than Gram Parsons
come back to life to join a Clash-influenced
80’s version of the Byrds or Burritos. Most of the songs rock far harder than
Parsons ever did but lead vocalist Sid
Griffin’s voice nevertheless has that excellent twang. “Final Wild Son” is a quickstepper with
twangy guitar flourishes and comes the closest to the Burrito’s sound.
“Still Get By” is more rocking and has jangly Paisley Underground
elements similar to the Three O’Clock
or early Bangles, but “Ivory Tower”
is more measured and has good country harmonies from Griffin and Steve McCarthy. “Run Dusty Run” gallops along with odd,
affecting Beatle-esque harmonies and
an almost surf guitar sound; “Wreck of the 809” sounds like a countrified
version of “She’s Not There” by the
Zombies. The best song, and one of
my favorite songs of all time, is their magnificent “I Had a Dream”, which has
to be the absolute apogee of the LA Paisley Underground, the perfect updating
of the jangle-pop 60’s of the Byrds
with the driving energy of early 80’s punk.
There’s little country here except Griffin’s slight Kentucky twang to
the vocals, but aside from that quibble this is one of the best songs to emerge
from this seminal LA scene. I was
introduced to this song when it the video for it was played on an LA video show
around ’84 or so and even then it was one of my favorite songs and it has remained
so ever since. There aren’t enough words
of praise for how good this song is or how much enjoyment it’s brought me over
the ensuing (nearly) three decades since its release. The deluxe version of Native Sons available on iTunes contains the four songs from their
debut EP, 10-5-60, including the jangly “Join My Gang”, which kind of reminds
me of “I Want You Back” by the Hoodoo
Gurus. Two other great Long Ryder
songs are “I Want You Bad”, a driving country rocker off their BBC Radio One in Concert live album, and
their single “Looking For Lewis & Clark”, which walks a perfect line
between hard rock, jangle pop, and country.
Other LA bands dabbled in country/roots sounds, including Los Lobos, Blood on the Saddle, Rank and
File (formed by Chip and Tony Kinman
after the breakup of the Dils), Gun Club, and the Blasters; even Fear
released a country album (though it was probably mostly through a desire to
shock and annoy). But one band that stood
out even though they only released two albums was Lone Justice. Their 1985
eponymously titled debut album yielded two minor hits, the sublime “Ways to be
Wicked”, which was written by Tom Petty
(and it shows)-- lead singer Mariah
McKee’s ringing, fierce country voice sound second to only Emmylou here-- and “Sweet Sweet Baby
(I’m Falling)”, which is less country and more of a straight ahead bar rocker
with soulful back vocals. The band,
already solid enough, was augmented by pros like Benmont Tench on keyboards, and Tony Gilkyson (who would soon join X) and Little Steven Van
Zandt on guitar. Straight-ahead
rockers like “East of Eden” and “After the Flood” really benefit from this
solid studio help and sound like the equal of Tom Petty’s late 70’s work.
“Pass It On” is another big, bold number that features McKee’s terrific
vocals. Alas, on Shelter, the 1986 follow-up to their debut album, Lone Justice
abandoned much of the country elements in favor of more generic 80’s
production, though “I Found Love” still retains a country twang under the 80’s
sheen and is actually at least as good as anything on their debut. Lone Justice broke up soon after but McKee
went on to a long respected solo career.
Though they weren’t part of LA’s cowpunk scene, Toronto’s
aptly named Cowboy Junkies were
another breakout success that fused a country vibe with alternative rock
approaches. Their magnum opus was 1988’s
Trinity Sessions, recorded in a
single day in a church in Toronto and which featured very stripped down and
subdued takes of a wide range of songs.
They are probably most noted for their slow, soft, sweet cover of Lou Reed’s “Sweet Jane”, which became a
hit for them in the U.S., but their other covers, including “Blue Moon of
Kentucky”, Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’
After Midnight”, “Mining for Gold”, and Merle
Haggard’s “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” are all spectacular, driven as they
are by lead singer Margo Timmons’ sultry
voice. “Blue Moon” is my favorite CJ
song of all time, and I’m someone who LOVES Elvis Presley’s original.
Aside from the Cowboy Junkie’s modest success, the cowpunk
movement never made many inroads in popular music, but it did serve as a
stepping stone between the country rock of the 60’s and early 70’s and the alt
country movement of the 90’s. One of the
first alt country acts was Uncle Tupelo,
who played a turbocharged throat-grabbing variant of country rock that pulled
heavily on the growing grunge movement for some of its guitar power. Released in 1990, Tupelo’s No Depression has since become a
touchstone for the alt country movement.
My favorite song on this album, and one of my favorite Uncle Tupelo
songs of all time, is album opener “Graveyard Shift”, which highlights this
sturm and drang approach to country; this is not twangy high lonesome country,
this is country more in Jay Farrar’s
yearning, soulful voice (that nevertheless has a powerful snarl) and a few
flourishes riding a guitar roar that would not have sounded out of place on a Nirvana album. This song grabs you by the neck and drags you
into this new, more powerful approach to country rock. “Before I Break” is
another song with a big crunchy guitar that bludgeons the listener while Farrar
and Jeff Tweedy croon their
intertwining vocals. “Outdone” and
“Factory Belt” keep the slamming guitar raging but smooth it out a little and
are magnificent as well. It’s on their
cover of the gospel standard “No Depression” as well as “Whiskey Bottle” and
“Life Worth Livin’” that Tupelo reveals their softer, more contemplative side;
the latter is particularly wonderful and has lyrics that explore the bleakness
of life.
Their 1991 follow-up, Still
Feel Gone, continues in this vein but more frequently reins in the guitar
roar for a more traditional take on country, nowhere more evident than on
“Watch Me Fall”, which contains more traditional country instrumentation and is
sung by Tweedy. Tweedy’s “Gun” owes a
huge debt to the Replacements and
“Punch Drunk” sounds at times like a Dinosaur
Jr. song. 1992’s March 16-20, 1992 moves completely away
from their punk past and is completely acoustic. “Sandusky” is a magnificent banjo and guitar
picking song, and their cover of the
Louvin Brothers’ “Atomic Power” is fantastic. I also love their cover of the traditional
song “I Wish My Baby Was Born”. Uncle
Tupelo’s 4th and final album, 1993’s Anodyne, is an exquisite parting shot. My favorite songs are the melancholy “Slate”,
with its wonderful fiddle work, “The Long Cut” (which revives the guitar roar
of their debut) and the utterly fantastic “Chickamauga”.
Uncle Tupelo broke up the next year, and Farrar soon formed Son Volt with a new set of musicians
and carried on in much the same vein; my favorite Son Volt songs are the
lurching, crunching “Drown” and the sweet country lilt of “Windfall” off their
debut album Trace (which comes really
close to Gram Parsons’ work on Grievous Angel), “Driving the View” from
Wide Swing Tremolo, and the
alternately echoe-y and pounding “Jet Pilot” from Okemah and the Melody of Riot. Tweedy
and Tupelo bassist John Stirratt
formed Wilco, which has been driven
less by a country rock approach but is instead centered on Jeff Tweedy’s odd,
affecting voice and introspective alt folk.
The Beatle-esque
“Misunderstood”, with its soft piano building to the cacophonous ending with
Tweedy shouting “NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!”, off 1996’s Being There is a terrific track, as is
the wah-ed out rocker “I Got You (End of the Century)”, which is one of my
favorite Wilco songs because it reminds me of my son’s birth (my wife and I had
just gotten into Wilco around that time).
I absolutely love this song. The
low key “Sunken Treasure” and the contrastingly big and loud “Outtasight (Outta
mind)” are other high points off this album.
The weird, buzzing “I’m Always in Love” off 1999’s Summerteeth is trippy neo-psychedelia. But Wilco’s big breakthrough came with 2001’s
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which was
rightly recognized as a classic. The
lurching “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” is classic Tweedy, awkward but
affecting, and “Kamera” and “Pot Kettle Black” are happy and sweet acoustic
romps. But it’s the moving, evocative “Ashes of American Flags” that has become
the standout track. Even though it was
recorded before the 9/11 attacks, this introspective, down tone song, with its
line “I would like to salute the ashes of American flags” instantly became
associated with this tragedy. I always
think of this song when I think of that terrible day.
Almost unheralded in their mid-90’s heyday were LA’s Geraldine Fibbers, who also melded
(post) punk fury to sweet aching country melodies and themes. Formed by former Ethyl Meatplow leader Carla
Bozulich in 1994 upon that band’s demise, the Fibbers were a radically
different direction from the electronic/industrial sound of Meatplow and their
wildly sexual S&M influenced stage shows.
My (future) wife and I had seen Ethyl Meatplow on a couple of occasions,
opening for bands like L7 and Celebrity Skin, and had been stunned by
the nudity and wildness of their shows, but we were also impressed by
Bozulich’s strong, clear voice and based largely on her vocal talents we bought
the Fibbers’ 1995 debut release Lost
Somewhere Between the Earth and My Home.
This album contains two striking songs, “Lily Belle” and
“Marmalade”. “Lily Belle” is a baroque
country gothic opus which begins with some sweet fiddling before building to a
crashing, atonal crescendo that then resolves down and Bozulich’s intensely
emotional voice kicks in; this soft-then-quiet pattern repeats twice more,
culminating with Bozulich almost
screaming, leagues from the sweet country twang that starts the vocals before
resolving sweetly again. This is one of
the strangest but most compelling alt country songs ever recorded for sure. “Marmalade” begins with a strumming electric
guitar that reminds me of “Drown” or “Rhinoceros” by the Smashing Pumpkins and a softly sawing cello; again Bozulich’s
amazing drawling vocals start somewhat softly but the chorus is fantastic,
building somewhat atonally but plateauing with Bozulich’s sweet country voice
playing counterpoint to a raw guitar in a way that’s amazingly pleasant. These two songs are excellent alt country
documents that showcase Bozulich’s distinctive vocals and lyrics. They also do a mean cover of George Jones’
“He Stopped Loving Her Today”, which can be found on their album The Poop Alley Tapes.
Another of my favorite female country singers is the
staggeringly talented, utterly magnificent Iris
Dement, who sounds like she walked right out of Appalachia circa 1931. I first was exposed to her simply unbelievable
voice when I saw her open for Chris
Isaak in Denver in 1998 and left absolutely blown away by how talented she
was. In one 45 minute set she sang with
a ringing country voice that echoed through the ages and as if that wasn’t
enough she played guitar, harmonia, accordion, and piano too. It was a lot like that scene in the Simpsons
episode where Homer hears Lurleen Lumpkin’s voice for the first time. Now, I love Chris Isaak and have seen him
many times in concert, and every time he puts on a terrific, high energy show,
but I barely heard him that night, until he brought Iris back out for an Everly Brothers song encore, which was
the highlight of the evening. What was
especially great was that prior to doing so, Chris launched into this long,
effusive introduction about how “this little lady is just about the most
talented person I know and I’m lucky to have her with me on tour”. This was particularly gratifying to me
because when Iris was doing her set I was surrounded by a bunch of fat, overly
made up middle aged women who were complaining about Dement—“Who is this
chick? She’s too twangy! Where’s Chris?” and Chris’ intro shut them up
for sure!
Another thing that amazes me is that while she was born in
Arkansas, Dement moved to California when she was three and spent her formative
years growing up in Cypress, a city not five miles from my home town of Long
Beach. To some extent it amazes me to
think that she grew up so close to me (and not too far off in time either) when
I was listening to Depeche Mode and the Germs (and she was listening to her
mother’s gospel records). But Long Beach
has always been less of a true city and more of a town, and it’s arguably the
most honky tonk city in southern California (and not too far off of truly honky tonk places like
Bakersfield, Stockton, and Fresno in terms of its hillbilly vibe).
To me, Dement is second only to the immortal Emmylou Harris (with whom she dueted on
“Wheels of Love”) when it comes to female country singers, her voice is like a clarion
bell, strong, sweet, emotive, with just the right amount of country twang. Her 1992 debut Infamous
Angel was jaw-droppingly beautiful, a timeless chunk of pure country
Americana that was instantly hailed as a classic; it’s hard to remember a more
astonishing debut by any artist in any genre that was more mind blowingly
incredible than this. One hundred years
from now Carrie Underwood will be
entirely forgotten but country artists will still be covering these songs and
the songs themselves will pull at people’s hearts and souls then as now. There is literally not a bad song here, but
among the very top moments are her cover of “Fifty Miles of Elbow Room”,
“Hotter Than Mojave in my Heart” (I love the organ swirl at the beginning that
reminds me of “Like a Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan), the more melancholy “These
Hills” and “Our Town”.
But there are two Iris Dement songs that I find simply
transcendent on this album. The first is
the title track, “Infamous Angel”, a cautionary tale of excess and salvation
that Dement gives passionate life with her incredible voice. The topic, and lyrics, are pure, 100% Gram
Parsons all the way, a song he’d have been proud to have written (I also think
personally that Parsons would have shit his pants if he’d lived to hear Dement
sing). The second may be one of my
favorite songs of all time of ANY genre, “Let the Mystery Be”. This song is simply magnificent on every
level. First, I absolutely LOVE the
subject matter: the gist of the song is that while lots of people worry about,
and claim they know about, the big questions of life like where did we came
from and what happens to us when we die, basically they DON’T know, and smart
people like Iris are therefore content simply to “let the mystery be”. It’s as succinct and effective an argument
for agnosticism as I could ever imagine, a position I strongly agree with. Both the topic and lyrics and the jaunty,
folksy rhythm of this song are pure Woody Guthrie, American folk at its finest. And then of course there’s Iris’ voice,
which is just captivating. What’s ironic
to me is that her heavenly voice is enough to make a non-believer such as
myself believe there actually MIGHT be a god!!!!!!
Three other Dement favorites of mine are covers; Dement’s
magnificent, yodeling version of Jimmie Rodgers’ Depression era classic “Hobo
Bill’s Last Ride”; her duet with Steve Earle “I’m Still In Love With You”; and
her stunning take on Merle Haggard’s “Big City”, a song that I used to sing to
my infant song at night and thus has even more emotional meaning to me. But honestly, Iris could sing the phone book
and I’d listen raptly to her from Aaron A. Aaronson to Zeke Zymysky. As may be obvious by now, I have a TREMENDOUS
crush on Iris and her gargantuan talent and it’s impossible for me to even
attempt to be objective when describing her wonderful music.
Of course, many other bands have continued on in a country
rock vein throughout the late 90’s and 2000’s.
One of my current favorites is Lucero,
who formed in Texas in the late 90’s but soon relocated to Memphis. In the 2000’s they have released several
excellent albums driven by leader Ben
Nichol’s gritty country-infused growl.
I especially love the lilting “Sweet Little Thing” off 2002’s Tennessee, which builds to a big rock
chorus but keeps returning to its sweet, soft verses. “Ain’t So Lonely” has a more traditional
country feel that really evokes early Uncle
Tupelo. “Chain Link Fence” is louder
and more up front with the guitar, but occasional resolves into softer
interludes. “When You’re Gone” is
another hard-and-soft mix that works well.
2006’s That Much Further West fleshes
out this approach, with songs like the title track evoking the work of Jeff
Tweedy both in Tupelo and in Wilco.
“Across the River” is relaxed and comfortable, the organ giving it a
fuller, lusher feel, but it glides along like a countrified version of
“Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles. “Tears Don’t Matter Much” is a reflective blend
of thoughtful lyrics and jaunty guitar, while “Hate and Jealousy” starts with a
big guitar riff that evokes Black
Sabbath’s “Paranoid” as interpreted by J
Mascis before settling into a twangy country ditty. A choice cut is “Tonight Ain’t Gonna Be No
Good”, a sassy strutter that rocks and rolls with a strumming electric guitar
and crisp beat, building to the stomping choruses at the end—this is one of
Lucero’s best songs.
Equally treasured by me is their 2005 album Nobody’s Darlings. Perhaps because it was produced by famed
Memphis producer Jim Dickinson, who
manned the board for the Replacement’s
Pleased To Meet Me, this album evokes
the roots-meets-punk sound of the Placemats more than nearly any album of the
past 25 years. To me the best track is
the first, “Watch It Burn”, with its roaring, noodling guitar lines and
chugging rhythm; Roy Berry’s
drumming is particularly magnificent here, setting down the tempo with force
and vigor. But it’s the fuzzy, shimmery
roar of the guitars that gives this song its amazing texture, that and Nichol’s
nearly breaking voice. The big, chunky
guitar on “Anjalee” and the lurching beat that resolves into a driving rhythm
makes this song a close second to “Watch It Burn”, really a magnificent song
that brings to mind a harder rocking Bruce
Springsteen, a “Rosalita” for the 21st century. “Sixteen” slows things down a bit, but the
guitars remain crunchy and driving, particularly in the chorus. “And We Fell” has an R.E.M. quality to it, an almost melancholy Southern gothic feel,
while “California” is another big loud joyful roar playfully alternating
between its chugging verse and its raving chorus. “Last Night in Town” also swings between
chugging and shimmering with some sloppy feedback solos thrown in for good
measure; somewhere Gram Parsons is
looking down and smiling.
2006’s Rebels, Rogues
& Sworn Brothers found Lucero expanding a bit beyond the country punk
constraints of their first few albums.
“What Else Would You Have Me Be” comes off like a Bruce Springsteen-meets-Kings-of-Leon
middle America Joisey mashup; the piano in particular makes me think of “Born
to Run”, but the chugging middle of the song seems to have been torn from Wilco’s “Misunderstood”. Indeed, Rebels
is characterized by a broadening of their sound away from just the guitar roar
of Nobody’s Darlings, with keyboards,
accordion, and fiddle fleshing out their previously stripped-down sound. “I Don’t Wanna Be the One” has a skirling
organ that builds in intensity and insistence until it takes over the song,
much the same way John Cale’s
droning organ solos commandeer the
Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray”; this is a really cool song for this
reason alone but it’s also catchy and fun too.
“She’s Just That Kind of Girl” bolts out of the gates like “Girl Who
Lives on Heaven Hill” or “Flip Your Wig” by Husker Du, and what can you say
that’s better than that?
In 2009 Lucero made their major label debut with 1372 Overton Park; album opener “Smoke”
builds slowly from a musical refrain that almost sounds like Sparks’ “This Town Ain’t Big Enough For
Both Of Us”, with lyrics that are ripped from Springsteen’s “Born To Run”, but the horns and keyboards which here
work fairly effectively in building this opus become overbearing elsewhere,
smothering the raw intensity of the guitars.
Sadly, they continued in this direction on 2012’s Women & Work. While
there’s nothing wrong with a group evolving, and in a certain light the horns
make sense given their adopted hometown’s soul history, here’s hoping their
next album gets them back toward their rawer earlier sound.
The other band I like at the moment that fuse country
elements with rock, southern rock, and blues is Magnolia Electric Co. I like
“Dark Don’t Hide It”, “Montgomery” and “Don’t It Look Like the Dark”. Their sound falls somewhere between the
country rock of the Byrds and the alt folk roar of Neil Young. Good stuff but supposedly frontman Jason
Molina, who for all intents and purposes is Magnolia Electric Co., has retired
from performing due to health issues.
Pity.
It must be said that, like a lot of people I guess, I came
to country and country rock late in life.
I actively detested it in the 80’s, when my mother got into it and would
torture me with it much as I would torture her with my punk and new wave music
(she HATED “Jimmie Jones” by the Vapors, which was one of my favorite songs).
And if there is one genre of music that I totally despise it is pretty
much anything that’s come out of Nashville proper in the last 30 years or
so. All of the pop pap masquerading as
country just reminds me of Britney Spears or Justin Bieber tarted up with some
fiddles and banjo and has nothing to do with the true musical values of real
country music. But I love all of the
music described here, mostly because it ISN’T considered country by the country
establishment and mostly because of the fact that this outsider label has
allowed these artists to explore and experiment with country music in a way
that country traditionalists won’t.
In the years since his death, Gram Parsons has received a lot of accolades for his distinctive take on country music, and is widely recognized as one of the pioneers of, and innovators of, country rock. But it's hard to separate Parsons from his post-death mythos. His tragic early death from a heroin overdose, and the legendary immolation of his body by his manager Philip Kaufman, have obscured for many Gram's true accomplishments. For on the one hand Gram was singularly UNsuccessful in his attempts to make what he called "Cosmic American music"; his attempts to bring rock, psychedelia, and R&B flourishes to traditional country were not widely appreciated in his lifetime. And as mentioned above, Gram's country is so hardline, so monolithic, that it's not exactly easy listening.
Gram Parsons also failed himself and his own audience by succumbing to his own temptations. Aside from his ending his own talented life too prematurely, much of Parsons' time was wasted in dissolute pursuits of hedonism. He was the epitome of the rich, indolent hippie; his trust fund from his wealthy family prevented him from ever having to work, and as a consequence most of his life was dissipated fruitlessly living the perceived rock star lifestyle. He rarely committed himself to anything, even his own musical passions, and as a result his recorded legacy is spotty at best. His best moments shine as bright as any landmark musical accomplishment of the past 60 years, but too often laziness and drug haziness prevented him from putting forth his best effort. He was notoriously awful as a performer, typically too drunk or drugged out to give good effort. He was a lackluster musician and often in concert his band or the roadies would unplug his instrument since it detracted more than it helped. It's hard to listen to the Burritos or his solo albums and not feel like they could, and indeed should, have been better. Gram's life is one of far too many could-have-beens and should-have-beens.
But on the other hand, Parsons succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. In the early 70's a bewildering array of musicians WERE able to fuse a broad range of American musical idioms into a steamy gumbo of sound, including such acts as the Rolling Stones, Little Feat, Delaney and Bonnie and their collaborative work with Eric Clapton, Joe Cocker's Mad Dogs & Englishmen, Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue, and so forth. These and other artists tried, and succeeded, to meld the wide spectrum of American music, from country to rockabilly to bluegrass to blues to folk to rock, and it is undeniable that Gram Parsons had both direct and indirect influences on many of these. Newer acts have continued to try to mine the "cosmic" country rock vibe established by Parsons, most notably the Beachwood Sparks on songs like "Sister Rose" and "Confusion is Nothing New".
On the other hand, Gram has also benefitted not just from his own lionization and legend-building but from the demonization of others. Specifically, many people have denigrated other country rock acts, most notably Poco and the Eagles and to a lesser extent Linda Ronstadt, for taking what Gram started and "watering it down", creating a kind of country rock lite that was more palatable to the masses. I have major problems with this, the primary one is that it presupposes that these artists wanted, or should have tried, to sound like Gram Parsons. It's pretty obvious that people like Richie Furay and Don Henley were NOT trying to recreate a cosmic form of Bakersfield honky tonk country, and I find it spurious of people to argue that Gram Parsons made music that was somehow "better" than these other artists just because it was different, and less successful. These arguments also often get caught up in the Gram Parsons mythos while simultaneously deriding these other acts because they lived while Gram died, and they became famous and successful to boot. There's nothing wrong with being successful OR ambitious, as long as you are still trying to make the music you feel speaks to, and for, you. There's very little evidence that the Eagles began as some mercenary band of opportunists hoping to cash in. They wanted to be successful, without a doubt, but they were still making the music they believed in. I have no real problem with artists making music that becomes popular as long as it's still good music--well crafted and honest. This is why I like a wide range of music that is patently commercial, everything from the Monkees to Rick Springfield to Kelly Clarkson. Living isn't a crime, being successful isn't a crime, making music you believe in isn't a crime. Conversely, it IS a crime to fritter your talents away in a druggy haze and deprive the world of your full talents.
In the years since his death, Gram Parsons has received a lot of accolades for his distinctive take on country music, and is widely recognized as one of the pioneers of, and innovators of, country rock. But it's hard to separate Parsons from his post-death mythos. His tragic early death from a heroin overdose, and the legendary immolation of his body by his manager Philip Kaufman, have obscured for many Gram's true accomplishments. For on the one hand Gram was singularly UNsuccessful in his attempts to make what he called "Cosmic American music"; his attempts to bring rock, psychedelia, and R&B flourishes to traditional country were not widely appreciated in his lifetime. And as mentioned above, Gram's country is so hardline, so monolithic, that it's not exactly easy listening.
Gram Parsons also failed himself and his own audience by succumbing to his own temptations. Aside from his ending his own talented life too prematurely, much of Parsons' time was wasted in dissolute pursuits of hedonism. He was the epitome of the rich, indolent hippie; his trust fund from his wealthy family prevented him from ever having to work, and as a consequence most of his life was dissipated fruitlessly living the perceived rock star lifestyle. He rarely committed himself to anything, even his own musical passions, and as a result his recorded legacy is spotty at best. His best moments shine as bright as any landmark musical accomplishment of the past 60 years, but too often laziness and drug haziness prevented him from putting forth his best effort. He was notoriously awful as a performer, typically too drunk or drugged out to give good effort. He was a lackluster musician and often in concert his band or the roadies would unplug his instrument since it detracted more than it helped. It's hard to listen to the Burritos or his solo albums and not feel like they could, and indeed should, have been better. Gram's life is one of far too many could-have-beens and should-have-beens.
But on the other hand, Parsons succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. In the early 70's a bewildering array of musicians WERE able to fuse a broad range of American musical idioms into a steamy gumbo of sound, including such acts as the Rolling Stones, Little Feat, Delaney and Bonnie and their collaborative work with Eric Clapton, Joe Cocker's Mad Dogs & Englishmen, Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue, and so forth. These and other artists tried, and succeeded, to meld the wide spectrum of American music, from country to rockabilly to bluegrass to blues to folk to rock, and it is undeniable that Gram Parsons had both direct and indirect influences on many of these. Newer acts have continued to try to mine the "cosmic" country rock vibe established by Parsons, most notably the Beachwood Sparks on songs like "Sister Rose" and "Confusion is Nothing New".
On the other hand, Gram has also benefitted not just from his own lionization and legend-building but from the demonization of others. Specifically, many people have denigrated other country rock acts, most notably Poco and the Eagles and to a lesser extent Linda Ronstadt, for taking what Gram started and "watering it down", creating a kind of country rock lite that was more palatable to the masses. I have major problems with this, the primary one is that it presupposes that these artists wanted, or should have tried, to sound like Gram Parsons. It's pretty obvious that people like Richie Furay and Don Henley were NOT trying to recreate a cosmic form of Bakersfield honky tonk country, and I find it spurious of people to argue that Gram Parsons made music that was somehow "better" than these other artists just because it was different, and less successful. These arguments also often get caught up in the Gram Parsons mythos while simultaneously deriding these other acts because they lived while Gram died, and they became famous and successful to boot. There's nothing wrong with being successful OR ambitious, as long as you are still trying to make the music you feel speaks to, and for, you. There's very little evidence that the Eagles began as some mercenary band of opportunists hoping to cash in. They wanted to be successful, without a doubt, but they were still making the music they believed in. I have no real problem with artists making music that becomes popular as long as it's still good music--well crafted and honest. This is why I like a wide range of music that is patently commercial, everything from the Monkees to Rick Springfield to Kelly Clarkson. Living isn't a crime, being successful isn't a crime, making music you believe in isn't a crime. Conversely, it IS a crime to fritter your talents away in a druggy haze and deprive the world of your full talents.
