(Jawbone)

www.jawbonepress.com

At this stage it would probably take a ten-ton wrecking ball's worth of seamy revelations to topple the towering, mythic image that is Gram Parsons. He's already been the subject of no less than four fawning full-length profiles, including daughter Polly's 2005 book Grievous Angel (which, despite offering ample proof that hagiography is the literary equivalent of a trainwreck, still earned wet kisses from the alt-country community), and last year Amoeba Records had the audacity to retroactively recast a live set from his old band the Flying Burrito Brothers as a Parsons-specific collection, e.g., Gram Parsons Archive, Vol.1: Live at the Avalon Ballroom 1969. But now along comes Hot Burritos, and although it doesn't purport to be that wrecking ball, it still manages to put a few dents in the Parsons legend.

John Einarson, who's previously authored excellent bios of Neil Young, Gene Clark and others, teamed up with Parsons' Burritos co-founder Chris Hillman for a in-depth chronicle of a band that, despite never hitting its stride commercially, has come to be acknowledged as a huge influence on both the nascent country-rock scene of the ‘70s and the modern day country landscape (both alt- and commercial). Hillman's contention is that Parsons shined blazingly bright but - due to a rock star fixation, a terminal lazy streak, a penchant for unprofessional behavior and a creativity-sapping fondness for booze and drugs - all too briefly. No real revelation there, although subscribers to the GP myth not doubt will cry "foul" and claim it ignores the musician's innate genius (the tortured artist effect). But Hillman is backed up by the recollections of scores of other musicians and former producers and bandmates, many of whom grudgingly agree with Hillman when he claims that Parsons had already shot his artistic wad by the time of the second Burritos album (1970's Burrito Deluxe) and dismisses Parsons' oft-acclaimed post-Burritos solo work as uninspired.

Some may also call this a case of sour grapes. Hillman freely admits that "it drives me up the wall" how the lived-fast/died-young mystique surrounding Parsons has reduced the Burritos in the eyes of many to "just his backing band." But there's genuine affection and respect leveled by Hillman, too, who just as freely admits to being in awe of Parsons' charisma and songwriting gifts, at least early on.

Throughout, Einarson skillfully weaves together a massive quantity of quotes and firsthand observations into what turns out to be an exhaustive history of the band in all its various incarnations (along with each player's pre- and post-Burritos activities). The 336-page volume comes liberally decorated with both familiar and rare photos and probably stands as the definitive word on the band and the musical milieu within which it operated.

Hot Burritos won't sit well with some Parsons fans, but then, no acolyte likes it when it's pointed out that his Emperor has no clothes - pot-leaf Nudie suit, or otherwise. FRED MILLS