The Flying Burrito Brothers’ Burrito Deluxe (released April 1970) seemed conventional to a fault when it came out over a half-century ago, roughly a year after its eccentric predecessor, 1969’s The Gilded Palace of Sin. Yet this extended perspective only serves to clarify the group’s sophomore effort as a seminal entry in the burgeoning marriage of country rock.
Such retrospect is all the more enlightening given the creative stasis within the Burritos at the time. Frankly professed after the fact by co-founders Gram Parson and Chris Hillman–both Byrds at the time of their initial collaboration–the lack of inspiration belied the solidification of a realigned quintet including future Eagle Bernie Leadon on guitar, dobro and vocals plus ex-Byrd Michael Clarke on drums.
In fact, on “Cody Cody” and “Lazy Days,” the fivesome generates an earthy drive that contrasts and complements fulsome harmonies integral to the arrangements. The latter tune’s prominent selection as the opening cut–one that had been recorded by Parsons’ previous group, the International Submarine Band (as well as the Byrds during his tenure with that group)–is indicative of the latent artistic roadblocks the Brothers encountered so early in their existence.
Nevertheless, Burrito Deluxe has more than a little range. Over the LP’s thirty-three minutes and ten tracks, the quintet displays a more authentic display of roots than much of what followed in the hybrid genre they pioneered. “Farther Along,” for instance, is a gospel tune adorned with layered vocal harmonies, and a nod to traditional country music appears in the form of “Image of Me.”
Festooned with Byron Berline’s fiddle, that number is a counterpart to the modified polka that is “Man In The Fog,” where Leopoldo C. Carbajal’s accordion emphasizes the gaiety of the performance. Still, such high spirits can’t wholly camouflage the darker undertones of the number and, by extension, the LP as a whole.
The tongue-in-cheek cover art lends a certain levity to this long-player that belies Gram’s increasingly detached presence. Whereas he sounds like his vulnerable but resolute self on this quick (1:52!) cover of Bob Dylan’s “If You Gotta Go,” Parsons falters a bit in singing lead on the wry “Older Guys.”
There, the Burritos chug along in a sprightly manner that is not all that far removed from Leadon’s songwriting collaboration with Hillman, “High Fashion Queen.” Ostensibly yet another indirect commentary on the malaise that was afflicting Parsons and, by extension, the band he’d initially spearheaded, it ratifies more than a few observations (including Keith Richards’) suggesting the late trust fund kid’s time spent with the Rolling Stones during this period did him no good personally or professionally.
But, in a tragic irony, the most substantive cut on Burrito Deluxe is the famous Jagger/Richards composition “Wild Horses.” Perhaps not wholly coincidentally, this gift from the authors recalls the r&b/soul leanings of the first Burritos long-player and prominently features one Leon Russell on an ever-so-stately piano.
The melancholy take finds Parsons’ voice cracking a bit during his lead vocal, which is very much in line with his distracted state of mind. As it turned out, the future partner-in-song of Emmylou Harris would be fired from the band–by Hillman of all people–as the group toured in support of Burrito Deluxe, albeit to no significant commercial success.
Nevertheless, the Burrito Brothers would continue in reconfigured form for years to come, beginning with the eponymous follow-up to this LP (the first with Rick Roberts, who would eventually go on to form Firefall). Fifty-five years of hindsight illuminate how the Burrito Brothers—as much or more than their peers Buffalo Springfield and Poco—nurtured the development of what is now known as contemporary country music.
