Gram

Gram

Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris at Max’s Kansas City by Lilly Hou.

Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris at Max’s Kansas City by Lilly Hou.

The Everly Brothers (seen here in 1961 as shot by Richard Avedon) recorded one of my favorite love songs of all time — "Love Hurts" — in 1960. Most know this song from the Nazareth version from ‘75 (officially inducted into the Suckin Face Hall of Fame in ‘89, I believe) and the Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris version from ‘73, but few know this first recording of the classic ballad written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant (writers of the bluegrass staple "Rocky Top"). 
I’m racking my brain trying to figure out the name of the film on which I first heard this version of the song. Its title escapes me and the internet has been no help. It was Dutch omnibus film, I believe, featuring at least one short based on the writing of John Fante (which is why I checked it out). I distinctly recall the moment the song came on. It was a Lynch-ian moment. So sad yet consoling at the same time, like realizing the lead singer of Aerosmith was really your father and that all those hard rock childhood memories weren’t for naught, but that they could be incorporated into your adulthood in a meaningful way. It felt fantastic.
(photo via anneyhall)

The Everly Brothers (seen here in 1961 as shot by Richard Avedon) recorded one of my favorite love songs of all time — "Love Hurts" — in 1960. Most know this song from the Nazareth version from ‘75 (officially inducted into the Suckin Face Hall of Fame in ‘89, I believe) and the Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris version from ‘73, but few know this first recording of the classic ballad written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant (writers of the bluegrass staple "Rocky Top").

I’m racking my brain trying to figure out the name of the film on which I first heard this version of the song. Its title escapes me and the internet has been no help. It was Dutch omnibus film, I believe, featuring at least one short based on the writing of John Fante (which is why I checked it out). I distinctly recall the moment the song came on. It was a Lynch-ian moment. So sad yet consoling at the same time, like realizing the lead singer of Aerosmith was really your father and that all those hard rock childhood memories weren’t for naught, but that they could be incorporated into your adulthood in a meaningful way. It felt fantastic.

(photo via anneyhall)