Of course, it’s difficult to write about Parsons without tragedy looming on the horizon, since he died at the impossibly young age of 26. However, I feel his musical legacy gets a bit forgotten in the tragedy of it all and deserves a bit more acclaim. Of course the fact that he passed away so early in life is attention-grabbing, not to mention the strange adventure he had after he died (more on that later). But the music should be the important part and I aim to emphasize just that.Parsons’ musical career began with the Byrds. In 1968, the Byrds were slowly but surely disintegrating, with David Crosby leaving to go do cocaine and form Crosby, Stills and Nash (in that order). This vacancy allowed Parsons to creep into the sessions for their upcoming album. Of course, being a brash, young man from Georgia, he immediately hijacked the entire recording session. The resulting album, Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, was a fascinating attempt to find the middle ground between the country music Parsons grew up with back in Georgia and the druggy, California rock of the Byrds. Of course, that middle ground basically didn’t exist at the time, but that didn’t stop Parsons from essentially creating it single-handedly.
While he may have been a supremely talented musician and songwriter, Parsons was also wildly unpredictable, undependable and generally difficult to work with. Much of this stemmed from his rather wealthy upbringing. By always having his family’s money as a safety net, he seemed far too willing to be a free-wheeling young rock star and he found himself in all kinds of trouble in the process. He would eventually part ways with the Byrds after panicking and failing to get on a plane to South Africa for a concert. However, his future with at least one of the Byrds’ members was far from over.
When the Byrds finally did call it quits, their bassist, Chris Hillman, would end up re-bonding with Parsons over their shared appreciation for country music and, together, they would create the band that would hybridize country and rock in earnest: the Flying Burrito Brothers. With their debut album, The Gilded Palace Of Sin, they set the template for music that could be appreciated all the way from Los Angeles to Nashville. There was only one little problem. In 1969, no one was really interested in such things. The Burritos would be routinely underappreciated, even though the line of bands these days citing them as a major influence in extensive. Parsons’ escalating drug use would also trouble the band and he would eventually leave the Burrito Brothers after their catastrophic second album, Burrito Deluxe.
Parsons career immediately begin to spiral into oblivion. His assorted drug addictions and alcoholism were making life difficult for him, despite having his wealth to fall back on and prominent friends like the Rolling Stones ready to help him out. He essentially wandered aimlessly through the beginning of the 1970s, before discovering Emmylou Harris singing in a club. The two became close, much to the outrage of Parsons’ wife. However, Harris become a sort of creative focus and muse for Parsons, who managed to get his shit together for two masterful solo albums, GP (1973) and Grievous Angel (1974). These albums underlined his country roots, while still possessing the excitement and thrill of the music he was listening to in California. On top of all that, they were deeply sad records, in that way that only great country music can be sad. Parsons’ life was not looking up and it informed his music in the strongest of ways.
Parsons’ lifestyle would eventually catch up to him. In September of 1973, during the recording sessions for Grievous Angel, he wandered out to Joshua Tree National Monument and died of a brutal combination of alcohol and morphine. The album was eventually pieced together from what recordings already existed and it still managed to be tremendous, a testament to Parsons’ ability to create stunning music in the most casual, off-hand manner. However, Parsons’ had one last great adventure ahead of him. As his body was being transported back home in the south for burial, music industry friends of his decided to honor his true will, which had stipulated that his body be cremated and his ashes spread around Joshua Tree. They promptly stole Parsons’ body, coffin and all, and torched the entire thing in the middle of the Californian desert. Amazingly, there were supposedly no laws against stealing dead bodies and they were only charged the cost of the coffin. It was a suitably chaotic, unpredictable end for Parsons.
Since then, his music has helped the loosely defined genre known as alt-rock find its feet. Bands as far apart creatively as Wilco and the Drive-By Truckers have knelt at the proverbial altar of Parsons, who helped create an audience for their intense combinations of rock, country and other genres. In many ways, modern listeners, who are used to every hybrid form of music under the sun, don’t recognize the huge effect Parsons had on music. But at the time, the divide between country and rock was positively monumental. By being the only kid wacky enough to bridge that gap, he opened so many doors for the bands that followed him, even as he only found rejection and tragedy in his own lifetime. Parsons has become a type of martyr in that regard, who died too young but created such a strong legacy that he has been remembered decades after his death.
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