Widely considered sacrosanct, and I can see why, for about half
of it. Just under, really; already thin at nine tracks, about half the running
time is sheer padding. I like Tom T. Hall more than most people, but Parsons’s
take on his “I Can’t Dance” is a preview for a Grounded Burrito Bros album
nobody wishes existed. “Las Vegas,” well, speaks for itself. “Love Hurts” is better
than the Nazareth version, but mostly because of Emmylou Harris, who admittedly
improves everything she sings on.
But the core of the album is the Parsons originals. Most of
them—“Brass Buttons,” “In My Hour of Darkness,” “Return of the Grievous Angel”—have
a purity and simplicity that makes them near-staggering, but also suggests they
were the end of the road; you can’t get much more elemental than this. “$1000
Wedding,” on the other hand, shows some narrative flair that would never be
further developed.
He peaked with GP,
and all indications here are of a talent all too eager to squander itself—we
hear the squandering in each wasted filler track. Too bad he was so casual
about his occasional ability to achieve majesty.
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