The Flying Burrito Brothers - The Last Of The Red Hot Burritos (Reissue) (1972/1995)

The fourth--and presumably last--album of the Flying Burrito Bros. is, as it were, a departure. Not only is this album live, it's also surprisingly energetic, considering the Burritos' previous country-gaited tempos. Last of the Red Hot Burritos is a fast, pounding rock & roll record from start to finish, as if the now-disbanded group wanted to go out with a bang instead of a twang.
Rather than simply re-cutting material they've recorded on their studio LPs, the group has chosen to fill most of the album with non-original, mostly well-known tunes. And not just the country staples, like "Six Days on the Road," that the Burritos had always done on stage. There's a tune here that carries the Wilson Pickett-Steve Cropper credit line, "Don't Fight It," and two others are straight rhythm and blues.
Not that these guys are complete strangers to R&B: when Burritto founders Gram Parsons and Chris Hillman were still Byrds, they recorded William Bell's "You Don't Miss Your Water," and on the Burrito's first great album, The Gilded Palace of Sin, they did a sexually confused and strangely moving version of the Aretha Franklin hit, "Do Right Woman."
But the approach on this album is strikingly different. Instead of countrifying the R&B, the Burritos hype up everything to a level just short of complete frenzy. The four original tunes previously recorded by the Burritos in their old-time country style get brand new streamlined treatments that are a lot closer to Memphis than Nashville. Even the straight country segment is speedy, since it features the lightning fast blue-grass fiddling of Byron Berline. There isn't a single moment of relief from the driven, frantic pace.
It's the impeccable bass playing of Chris Hillman, the only original member still in the group at the time this recording was made, that unites all those careening sounds. His "I'm a Man"-style bass on "Ain't That a Lot of Love" and the spare, percussive strut of "Don't Fight It" are particularly inspired. As always, Hillman plays only the notes that matter. With his playing and singing in the fore-front here (he sings eight of the nine leads on the LP), this is clearly Hillman's record. It's shocking to realize that this is the first time he's ever been the focal point of an album. Even the third Burrito LP, the one without Gram Parsons, wasn't Hillman's; new member Rick Roberts wrote almost all the original tunes and sang most of the leads. This time Rick has graciously stepped aside, enabling his partner to finally release all that energy he's kept bottled inside himself since 1965.
What Hillman has pulled together is the Burrito Bros.' most accessible and commercial record, the one they should have made two albums ago to ensure their survival. This one came too late, unfortunately, to do that. I shouldn't complain. After all, I have four awfully good, immensely playable Burrito Bros. albums (that's one more than I'd figured on having), and a too-big but official Burrito tee-shirt. Still, I can't help feeling disappointment--the Burritos have been my favorite American band the last couple years. They were too good to be forgotten. And Last of the Red Hot Burritos is too good to be ignored.