Search Salon

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Recently in Salon Arts & Entertainment

Movie Review
"Bowfinger"
Martin and Murphy team up for a good-natured sendup of the mindless summer blockbuster -- and just barely avoid making one themselves.
By Andrew O'Hehir
[08/12/99]

Column
Lights, cameo, action!
Alfred Hitchcock's first rule of directing was to treat actors like cattle -- and even in his own cameos, he was no sacred cow.
By Sarah Vowell
[08/11/99]

Music
The last of the Lilith Fairs
Plenty of Chrissie, Sheryl, Sarah and Sandra -- but nary a female drummer.
By Gavin McNett
[08/11/99]

Music Review
Sharps & flats
New York combo Hasidic New Wave illustrates the difference between klezmer and Jewish jazz.
By Seth Mnookin
[08/11/99]

Movie Review
"The Thomas Crown Affair"
Glamorous settings, glamorous clothes, glamorous sex: This remake is a deluxe vacation for adults, frills included.
By Charles Taylor
[08/11/99]

Complete archives for Arts & Entertainment

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

In the end, it's none of our business, of course. Let's cherish whatever remnants of privacy still exist in this media world.

Various Artists "Grievous Angel: A Tribute to Gram Parsons" Almo Sounds

Wait. To hell with privacy. For the history books, it'd be nice to know whether "Grievous Angel: A Tribute to Gram Parsons" was produced by Parsons' ex-lover or only a grateful acolyte. Either way, Harris' production reveals a mostly satisfying collection of predictable contributors like Burrito Brother Chris Hillman ("High Fashion Queen") and some unusual Harris duets with Beck ("Sin City"), Sheryl Crow ("Juanita") and Chrissie Hynde ("She").

The Hynde duet is the most superb, the tough chick rocker blending perfectly with the Mary Magdalene of country music. The song itself is about an ugly singer and her encounter with a mysterious "he" -- either the richest guy in town, a Los Angeles record producer or God himself. "He" overlooks her ugliness, and everyone assumes that "he" is going to "help her some." The singer, turns out, doesn't need any help: She transcends it all by just belting out, "Hallelujah." It's the perfect song for a pair of singers who have both transcended their dead male music partners (in Hynde's case, Pretenders Pete Farndon and James Honeyman-Scott).

Like every tribute album, this one contains some songs that don't work. Elvis Costello sings "Sleepless Nights" with his usual overdone vibrato. Jeff Tweedy's innocuous singing and Wilco's strum-strum-strum guitars make their version of "100 Years" just another piece of No Depression pap.

On the other hand, Gillian Welch's quiet droning on "Hickory Wind" is adorable. Then there's Lucinda Williams' and David Crosby's duet on "Return of the Grievous Angel," the most astonishing version of the song since Parsons and Harris sang it a quarter of a century ago. Crosby, like Parsons, lets the achingly lovely voice of his partner become the centerpiece of one of Parsons' most melodic songs.

The last cut, "In My Hour of Darkness," mires what should have been the album's finest hour. How could Harris let Julie Miller contribute her god-awful Olive Oyle vocals to the chorus of Parsons' greatest piece? It's like bringing a howling baby to a screening of "Eyes Wide Shut." What's particularly galling is that even if "In My Hour of Darkness" were the only song Parsons ever wrote (and he co-wrote it with Harris), its power would still guarantee his musical life after death, a mythography that began shortly after the 26-year-old died a sordid death in a Mojave motel and was later illegally cremated in Joshua Tree National Park.

By age 26, most of us understand or have understood disappointment, but Parson was intimate with Old Man Regret, the essence of country music. Only greats like Hank Williams plugged into that vibe so young. Fong-Torres tells the story of when Parsons fucked with guitarist Clarence White's amp onstage. White buttonholed the singer offstage, shouting, "Listen, you son of a bitch, I've played more country music than you've ever played, and I know more about it than you'll ever know." Parsons' "Southern manners came back and managed an apology ... 'I didn't mean to offend.'" White was satisfied, and the two became fast friends. But a month later in California's San Fernando Valley, White was clipped and killed by a drunk driver.

Parson wrote the following words for the dead man, but they ended up being a eulogy for both himself and his music, work that "Grievous Angel: A Tribute to Gram Parsons" graciously recalls: "Some say he was a star/But he was a just a country boy, his simple songs confess/And the music he had in him/So very few possess."
salon.com | August 12, 1999

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

  Get a printer-friendly version

  E-mail a friend about this article

  Backflip this article to find it again

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Search Salon