Gram

I missed a big anniversary yesterday – what would have been Gram Parsons' 80th birthday, had he not died of a massive overdose at the age of 26, young even for a self-destructive rock star. The first time I heard him would have been on the Byrds' Sweetheart of the Rodeo album, but soon after that a schoolfriend who had a knack of getting hold of all the latest, coolest records, often as imports, introduced me to the first Flying Burrito Brothers album, Gilded Palace of Sin, and that was it – I was in thrall from there on in. His was a truly extraordinary talent, and heaven knows where he would have taken his Cosmic American Music had he lived longer – but he was never going to. Here's a death-soaked track from the great posthumous album, Grievous Angel...

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