out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels
[this is a post from the archives - originally sent november 10th, 2017]
Know that I almost titled this email "Won't you scratch my itch" - the opening line of Return of the Grievous Angel because it's a strong start if ever there was one but I wasn't sure that would play nice with spam filters.
Last Sunday would have been Gram Parsons' 71st birthday and I anticipated listening to very little that wasn't Parsons this week in celebration, tribute, gratitude, etc. etc. because I owe a lot to the music of the Cosmic American and because that's what I did last year and I've become the kind of person that takes a lot of comfort in ritual and routine.
There was a time when I needed Gram Parsons to get me through the day - or, more accurately, through the night. A stretch of time, months long, where there wasn't a lot of sleeping done and none without Gram's voice being the last one I'd hear. The playlist from that time exists still*, and I revisited it this week but only briefly because it turns out those songs in that sequence are enough to trigger memories of every sleepless night from that time and every room they were spent in. Now far enough removed from the time and the circumstances that made the playlist necessary in the first place, I didn't need to walk those halls again.
I anticipated needing to listen to a lot of Gram Parsons this week, but it turns out, I don't need Gram Parsons anymore. That's not to say I don't still and won't always love his music, but I only reached for Grievous Angel, (the album that carried me, in my GP-era, all the way to Memphis on repeat**) once this week and am not sorry for it. The songs that I clung to then (Hearts on Fire, $1000 Wedding, Love Hurts, In My Hour of Darkness) still hit all the right notes, but I - singing along - was pleased to find that I no longer can. The raw emotion necessary to hit those notes has dulled and where I used to need to strain to hit them for the catharsis - I'm content now to leave that to Gram and Emmylou. The songs I used to skip over, would never put on the insomnia playlists, almost found rude with their giddy tempos (I Can't Dance, Ooh Las Vegas) were the ones that I lingered on this week. They're the ones with a little bit of joy.
I did read a lot about Gram this week and am better for it. I intended to read Ben Fong-Torres' biography, but it turns out the only library in Austin with a copy is the one near my parents' house and I'm saving that as an excuse for a future visit. If you don't know much about Gram or want to know how and why you should care, start here. If you want to go in deep, continue on here and here and here and here and here and here.
I'm not currently a person who needs Gram Parsons the way I used to need Gram Parsons. I don't think though, that I'll never again be a person who needs him. I hope, though, that I'll never need him in quite the same way. My siblings can attest that Ooh Las Vegas is my idea of a perfect driving song and one I will refuse to skip even if it's the sixteenth time it's come up in the playlist rotation. If I ever fool some poor sap into marrying me he'll have to be strong enough to call me on a lot of my bullshit, but smart enough to know that Parson's version I Can't Dance*** is my non-negotiable first dance song.
And I will fight you if you try to tell me that A Song For You is not perfection.
*The collection of songs linked is not a Perfect Parsons Playlist, and far from the one I'd make today but it did the job when it needed to, and it feels unkind to "fix" it now. Judge me, but not harshly, if you must.
**Minus the weird interlude where what I reallyreallyreally needed to get me to the top of the literal mountain in Arkansas was Springsteen and nothing but Springsteen.
***Actually a Tom T. Hall song. The lyrics Parsons' version omits are interesting, but also I'm a nerd about this sort of thing. Carry on.
I didn't listen to as much Gram Parsons as I thought I would this week. Instead I:
Dusted off a playlist that includes some Gram, and a lot of the side roads I wandered when the clouds cleared and I could leave him in the rearview. It needed more Emmylou, and is a work in progress but: High Time for a Country Playlist
Started this playlist and also this one. They're weird, sorry. Themed ones tend to go sideways.
Felt pretty garbagey- which meant it was time to expand on love songs for cold and flu season. There are three ways you can listen to this playlist: 1) The way it existed initially - just the first track on loop forever. 2) The way it existed for about a year and until this week (and was probably at its best) - the first three tracks on loop forever. 3) How it exists now, and how is probably most tolerable for people who are actually sick.
Thought about sitting inside by the window at the beach on rainy days listening to the Alien Sunset EP by Cut Worms, because it's got moments that are just surfy-jangly enough to evoke the summer but mostly bummed out enough to not actually want to build sandcastles to.
"Gradually, you grow up and you stand on your own two feet and other things come in and change you, but you're always affected by those powerful influences that set you on a certain trajectory. It's important to acknowledge the door that you came through. For me, that door was Gram." - Emmylou Harris