People love to say that you get more conservative as you get older. In my experience? That’s been complete and utter bullshit. What has surprised me, though, is how much I’ve fallen in love with swingin’, twangy, honky-tonkin’ rockin’ country JAM. I’m talking about the kind of country that dances, the kind that cries a little in its (domestic) beer, the kind that features pedal steel so good it feels like a religious experience. As long as it’s not wrapped in some stars-and-bars fantasy where only conservatives get to be “real patriots,” I’m all in.
So when I was pitched American Cosmic Revival, Vol. 1: Back At Home, I did what any self-respecting, open-minded music nerd would do: I Googled the International Submarine Band. Because to be honest, I had no idea who they were.
I did know Gram Parsons. Growing up not far from Joshua Tree, I’d always heard about “Gram Fest,” but was too deep in my dorky indie-rock, punk, goth phase to realize I should’ve been paying attention. I’d always associated Parsons with the Flying Burrito Brothers, not realizing that the International Submarine Band was the proto-form—the raw and twangy stepping stone to the genre-bending legacy he left behind.
Cue me, three hours deep in Parsons lore, jaw dropped reading about how his friends stole his damn body from New Orleans and tried to give him a half-assed viking funeral in the desert. Metal as hell. Now I’ve got a new bucket list item: booking Room #8 at the Joshua Tree Inn, aka the Gram Parsons Room.
All that lore makes listening to Back At Home feel more like time travel than just hitting play. The album is a mix of faithful covers and subtle expansions on the original Safe at Home tracklist (which I now had to listen to to give any kind of appropriate review)—done with a level of love and authenticity that borders on spiritual. Leading the project are Christian Parker and Patrick Cleary, two musicians who clearly aren’t just fans of the genre; they’re students of it. And the fact that they roped in ISB’s original pianist Earl Poole Ball and pedal steel wizard JayDee Maness makes this not just a tribute—but a continuation.
The opener, “Blue Eyes,” caught me immediately. It’s that rare kind of country song that isn’t about heartache, but comfort—about finding peace in the arms of someone you love, in a house that welcomes you back, flaws and all. It’s sweet without being syrupy, nostalgic without being corny. And if you’ve got a blue-eyed someone at home, it might just hit you right in the feels like it did me. Shoutout to my wife (uhh, and my own list of chores)!
Elsewhere, the album plays like a honky-tonk jukebox in heaven. “I Must Be Somebody Else You’ve Known” struts and swaggers; “A Satisfied Mind” builds into something gospel-tinged and transcendent. And the mash-up of “Folsom Prison Blues/That’s Alright, Mama” brings a punky edge I didn’t expect but fully welcomed. JayDee’s pedal steel soars, Earl’s piano dances, and you can feel the joy these guys brought into the room when the red light went on.
There’s a reverence here that never feels stuffy. Parker and Cleary clearly love this music, but they’re not afraid to let it breathe. On “Strong Boy,” Patrick even adds a new verse to Gram’s original lyrics — something that could’ve gone terribly wrong if it weren’t done with such care and respect.
Bottom line: American Cosmic Revival, Vol. 1 is fucking great. It’s the kind of record that makes you want to dig through crates, pour a bourbon, and appreciate the weird, beautiful lineage of cosmic american music. And if this is Volume 1, I can’t wait to see where this revival goes next.