Cosmic American Music is hard to define, and often easier to define by what it’s not. Michael Grimshaw in his essay “Gram Parsons, Theology and Country Music” writes: “Parsons’ mission was the creation of a new way forward, a way to musically heal the separation and increasing divisiveness of late modern life. His term for what he attempted was Cosmic American Music.“ 

“The narrative focus of country became superimposed on the more urban concerns of rock so instead of statements of desire or anger followed by exclamatory choruses (as one could characterize much of rock), this new form takes the listener on often both a psychological and physical journey – short stories in three-minute forms. The aim was to bring together the past with the present and provide a musical and cultural point of epiphany. 

To do so, Parsons reused the language and rhythms of country, played them through the language and rhythms of rock, and in himself attempted the incarnated embodiment of a musical and cultural reconciliation. To speak theologically he was both prophet and messiah: both pointing the way to a new beginning and attempting to live out the struggles of just what that new beginning involved.” 

Here are some of my key points in the definition of the genre:

• Its evolution is roots-based but it’s not really roots, therefore not most Americana, especially if not heavily country-based*.

• It’s not usually singer/songwriter, though it requires solid songwriting, and is usually band-oriented (inc. in-studio if not officially a “band”).

• It’s not pure country in the sense of it being solely traditional or “trad.” It’s usually more closely aligned with Bakersfield than Appalachian, though incorporates diverse background elements, including rock, soul, and jazz.

• It’s not pseudo “country-rock,” which is typically a market-driven synthetic synthesis, which may hint at why most in this list did not sell well at the time. (True “country rock” was epitomized by Jerry Lee Lewis.)

• It’s often southern in origin but usually not “southern rock,” which is an identifiable and distinctive niche of rock music.

• It is not usually “Outlaw” as epitomized by those who have recently co-opted that label; having said that, in some ways, it followed Hank and Cash as the original outlaws of country music.

• There is a large West Coast/Californian aspect to it, both migratory and per the Bakersfield sound, as well as in regard to the evolution of the genre itself.

• It’s not soul music per se, though Gram once described it as “white soul,” and it is usually soulful in some way.

• Above all Cosmic American Music is inventive in songwriting and delivery, cosmic in the sense of being cutting edge, but built upon the tried and true (e.g., Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, Louvin Brothers, Elvis).

(*Americana is a relatively new genre and by its own definition it literally includes everything. You can’t say “Americana” does not include some Cosmic American Music.) 

The Flying Burrito Brothers & Nancy Parsons

     I initially met the band back in 1979 in the green room of the Maintenance Shop in Ames, Iowa. I just moseyed in and started mingling with the backstage crowd. Everyone was pounding down drinks including Nancy Parsons. We all got fecked up pretty good. The band played two sets with a long break in between. Skip Battin and Nancy Parsons took a liking to me and we hit it off pretty well. Skip was funny and witty. After I met him I always called him Kane. Just like in his song. When it was time for them to split, Nancy slipped and sprained her ankle. The next thing I knew was with Skip, Pete, Gene, and I was carrying Nancy out of the bar, through a crowd, and into a limousine.

     The line-up of the band back then was, Gib Guilbeau (violin and vocals), Skip Battin (Bass and vocals), Pete Kleinow (pedal steel), and Gene Parsons (drums.) 

Granger & Williams and Nancy Parsons

Then, a few months later, it happened again, but differently.

     Dave and I, (Granger & Williams,)were playing at an exotic dance club on Duff Ave. called, I think, “The Fox Lounge”. The Fox didn’t have dancers on Mondays, but instead, opted for acoustic bands.

     Well, sometime during the first set, I couldn’t believe who walked in. It was Nancy Parsons and her boyfriend Steve.  If you haven’t made the connection by now, Nancy is Gram Parsons widow. Her boyfriend was the owner of A and R studios just northwest of Ames.

     Both of them sat up in front of the stage. After a few songs, Nancy asked us if we knew how to play Hot Burrito #1.

     Of course we knew it; so we played it. She liked it and she liked how Dave and me sounded.

     She had connections to help us record (A and R Studio), a road manager (Excelsior Entertainment), and a friend of hers, Judy Collins.