With her new record, Hard Bargain, legendary songstress Emmylou Harris tackles troubled love, a broken heart and the death of Gram Parsons.

I don’t think you’ve ever recorded an album with literally just three people in the studio. How did Hard Bargain impact a process that, I would imagine, you were pretty comfortable with prior?

There are all different ways to make a record and this was the brainchild of Jay Joyce, my producer. We had worked on a couple of things – we had done a song for a movie soundtrack [ Nights in Rodanthe ], that was the first time I had worked with him since I sang on the Flaming Red album he did with Patty Griffin. We did the song for the soundtrack with just three people in two days, the whole thing.

So I had it in the back of mind that I liked working like that and I approached him about doing the next record with me. He said let’s try that and said, “You think about doing all the harmonies since that’s also part of what you do. If we get stuck or we feel like there’s something missing, we’ll invite other voices and instruments in.” But Jay and Giles [Reeves] are so versatile on the things they play and what they play.

*Of Pieces of the Sky, you’ve said, “We were trying to reinvent the music that we loved, because what’s the point of doing something exactly the way it was done earlier?” Do you still approach recording this way?

I think it’s different. In those early days, there was so much music that had already been recorded in that traditional country form. It was up to us – and me as a singer – to try and make it my own and obey the rules of country music but maybe break a few of them. “Hello Stranger” from Luxury Liner was one – with pedal steel and mandolin on it; interweave those instruments that might not have cohabitated that often together. It was a discovery.

I had these great musicians but we gave them a license to be a little more creative and I think it was interesting bunch of songs. Of course with Brian [Ahern] at the helm who was so brilliant at, as he says, “being invisible,” and yet being in control of everything and guiding everybody. You weren’t afraid to try things because you know he would ultimately be able to tell what was working and what wasn’t. He could nudge people in one or another.

All I’ve ever had to do was sit in the studio and sing and play. And, occasionally, you have an idea that was going to work or wasn’t going to work. But I always knew that there were going to be people taking care of that process of saying, “This will work, this might not work.” I always trusted the people that I was working with. I think that’s really important because if you’re suspicious or you think “I don’t know what they’re going to do with this,” how can you make music?

You make it sound so easy to record a record.

Well, if you have good people, you’re in good voice and you have good songs, you almost can’t go wrong. I should knock on wood. The universe is gonna come down on me!

You once said, “Every album’s search for material results in the discovery of a new writer.” Who did you discover this time around while creating Hard Bargain ? Any besides the two covers that you’ve put in your back pocket for later?

I don’t but you always have to be searching. I’m almost out of what I used to call my “material cassettes.” I just had so much material. I plumbed those on the record before this, All I Intended to Be – so many of those songs I had wanted to sing for years and hadn’t found the right project. I actually thought doing “Hard Bargain” on All I Intended to Be. It just didn’t work out. But Jay loved the song – I played it for him. He brought me some of his songs, I wanted to hear his stuff. I loved “Cross Yourself.” I thought it was one of those perfect end-of-the-record, to-be-continued, songs.

The song “Boulder to Birmingham” on 1975’s Pieces of the Sky is something of an elegy to your dear friend and mentor Gram Parsons. And now, on Hard Bargain, there’s “The Road,” which hears you reflecting on his passing 35 years later. Is it fair to call these companion pieces?

Yeah, I guess they’re bookends in a way because one of them was written in the throws of grief and bewilderment because his death was such a shock to me even though people say, “You must have known.” When I was with Gram, he seemed like he was on the upswing. He was not drinking, he was so passionate about making music; he was really gathering strength and moving into a good, positive place in his life.

And, also, I was naïve about that whole rock and roll scene – the drugs and the damage they could do to people. I think it was dealing with that sense of loss and bewilderment that comes when you’re dealing with the first big loss in your life. You expect your grandparents to die but you don’t expect someone your own age who’s vital and important in your life [to die]. “Boulder” was a way of dealing with that whereas “The Road” I’m at an amazing place in my life 35 years later. It’s amazing this place that I’m at now, this extraordinary life I’ve had, all the wonderful people that have come my way, the blessings…

Really, if I have to go back and pick a moment and a person, it all came from that meeting and that short time I spent with [Gram]. Everything emanated from there. Obviously, it has changed and transformed. There have been many other people, events and things that have come in – it’s almost like a river that has all these different streams; that your life is a river with all these different streams coming into it – but Gram would have been the source.

I recently interviewed the photographer Kim Gottleib-Walker. She happened to be there that day in Encino when you arrived from DC, coming straight from the airport to start rehearsing with Gram for his first solo tour Phil Kaufmann’s house.
Cameron Crowe was there as well and writes about the experience in Kim’s book, noting in particular a run through of old Byrds tune “I’d Probably Feel A Whole Lot Better.” Do you recall that day?

I was so out of my element. I had no idea. I had done the harmony on the records but I’d never really worked with a band with a drummer as far as going out on the road. And the other thing about it was that I assumed we were going to work up a small number of tunes. Well, Graham never worked up a single song. We would just sing a song and move onto the next one. I kept thinking, “How does this work?” I would record everything on a little cassette player so that I could be prepared – I was such a Girl Scout – when he decided what song [to do onstage].

Of course you know we got fired from our first gig because we had never worked up a beginning, middle or end to a single song. I was just the background singer as though I never asked any questions. So I just thought, “I’ll be ready for whatever happens – I hope.”

The first gig was such a train wreck – that’s the only way to describe it. And then we moved onto the next town and actually had one rehearsal and then we were fantastic. I don’t know how it happened.

A steep learning curve and a little bit of magic, I’m sure.

I guess it all worked out because we put [drummer] N.D. Smart as the bandleader and he just said, “Right – we’re going to work on this song. We’re going to get a beginning, middle and an end.” We got so many encores we had to start playing the show over again because we didn’t have that many songs. That was at [Austin’s] Armadillo World Headquarters.

You recorded Townes’ “Poncho and Lefty” on Luxury Liner noting some years ago that, “It was a real epiphany to discover a guy who sounded like Hank Williams and wrote songs with a kind of new poetry I had never heard from anyone before. … There was a real dark side to his music that I, of course, absolutely loved.” What is it about those darker places like Townes and Gram went to that attracts you and that, to various degrees, has run all your work including Hard Bargain ?

I think if you’re going to go into the heart, you go into the heart of darkness. Anything that’s really true has to deal with the dark side and the painful side of life. Otherwise, there’s not much point in sitting down and trying to write a song or to sing a song. I think it helps us get through to the other side, at least temporarily. Somehow, I find it healing in a strange sort of way. I think that songs that deal with sadness are the truest songs. Once in a while you have the lovely, happy songs that balance it out but for the most part we have art… I think I read a quote somewhere that says, “We have art so that we will not be destroyed the world” – by the truth. I think [art is] our companion to help us through each day.

You aborted a record with Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt back in 1977, eventually releasing the Trio record in 1987. Are these some lost sessions we may some day hear beyond “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues” ?

“My Blue Tears” is on Linda’s [TK] record and “Mr. Sandman.” Everything eventually came out. What happened was that we just couldn’t decide what kind of record we wanted. Brian was very prescient in saying, “This needs to be a very simple, mostly acoustic record that showcases your voices.” We got very arrogant and thought, “No, no we could make a pop record.” And of course, years later, when we finally got together with another producer, we ended up doing exactly the kind of record that Brian predicted we needed to make.

Speaking of collaborations, you recently mentioned that, after all these years of working together, you and Rodney Crowell may finally do a duets record. Given how closely you two have worked over the years, why do you think it hasn’t happened yet?

We’re been so busy doing our other things. We have hopefully put a fence around this period of time later on in the year when we’re going to do this record. Rodney is another person that is just so important to me.

When I got my recording contract and I was making a record and Brian brought this new singer/songwriter he’d signed, and we brought him to play on the record, we had this immediate bonding. He was like my kid brother – we loved singing together, his energy was so great, I had a duet partner. He was a really important part of those early years and those early records. Especially of the Hot Band even though he wasn’t the lead player, he added a certain color and dynamic to the band that was important to establishing what kind of a group we were and what kind of community we were.

It may surprise some people to learn that you run a dog shelter on your property called Bonaparte’s Retreat. When did this become such an important issue for you?

I’ve loved animals all my life. I come from all sides of my family, animal lovers. I was on the road for years and somehow I didn’t think I could have a dog. Finally, I did get a dog and he went on the road with me for ten years. It was the greatest thing to have this creature that just loves you and thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. It gets you out of the hotel room because you have to walk them. So when he died, I thought well, I probably won’t get another dog. He was a shelter dog. He was my soul mate.

I have this big backyard. I decided to start a little dog shelter as a satellite of the Nashville Humane [Society] where I had gotten him. We’re still small – we have six dogs now. They have their own yard and dog run and we actually just last couple of years built them their own house called Bonaparte’s Bunkhouse.