Those well-versed in epistemology probably have a name for the phenomenon, but surely you've experienced it yourself. That funny blind spot that obscures a word or a concept prior to your learning what it means. But, because you can't miss something you've never had, you really only become cognizant of having missed it after you've been formally introduced. Suddenly, it's everywhere, hiding in plain sight, and you wonder how you never noticed it before. A funny (and similar) thing happened to me on the way to getting to know Emmylou Harris. There I was, listening to Desire, hearing Bob Dylan sing "One More Cup of Coffee (Valley Below)" and "Oh, Sister" with some mysterious, silver-throated chantreusse and loving every minute of it. A year later I heard Gram Parsons sing "We'll Sweep Out the Ashes in the Morning" and only then made the connection that the two women were the same woman and that woman was Harris. It began to seem as if you couldn't turn on the music of any red-blooded, country-loving boy without hearing him duet with Emmylou (or someone who was trying powerful hard to sound like her). The Band had her stand in for "Evangeline," a studio-cut add-on to The Last Waltz, while Bright Eyes put her gifts to good use I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning. More recently, Mark Knopfler employed her help to produce the unconscionably gorgeous All the Roadrunning, a collaboration seven years in the making. Naturally, as a cursory glance at her guest appearance credits will tell you, these examples are a handful of sand on the beach of her accomplishments. But what about her and her alone? Is she a glorified sideman? A supporting actress? An anonymous and faceless hired gun called in to save the poor, beset-upon Mexican village, requiring no payment for the chivalrous deed? Maybe. But just because she's a generous spirit doesn't mean she lacks the chops to strike out on her own, as she does here on her debut. First off, she's got personality to spare. Listen as she torches her way through "Feelin' Single - Seein' Double" and "Ooh Las Vegas." You show me a female country singer who flashes more raw talent or honky-tonkin' confidence than her and I'll show you Waylon Jennings in drag. Of course, faster numbers like these were the biggest revelation for me because God knows she can sing a ballad. The only strange moment comes during her cover of The Flying Burrito Brothers' "Sin City." On the original, Parsons & Chris Hillman lend their voices to an ethereal two-part harmony, but here Harris - backed up by Rodney Crowell & Linda Ronstadt - adopts a weird, third-way melody that, while beautiful, gestures toward the absence of the original Grievous Angel. In terms of arrangements, it's analogous to setting a place at the table for someone who's passed on, as Harris pays tribute to her fallen mentor and friend, Parsons, who died of an overdose in '73. It's a moving version of the song, but it also underscores that she will likely always be better known for the ways in which she enhanced other people's music than her own. But, before you're tempted to offer any bullshit, "behind-every-man" platitudes, know that if Harris is pop music's ultimate team player, then it's by design. One listen to Elite Hotel and you'll be convinced that the only person standing in the way of her becoming a superstar in her own right is herself. To be or to be collectively, that is the question. Either way, Emmylou Harris - as a solo artist and as a collaborator - is her own fiercest competition. Grade: A-
