“Most of my career,” says Emmylou Harris, “I’ve been a finder of songs, a gatherer of songs, so this showcases, in part, that side of what I do.”
All I Intended To Be, its simple but evocative title borrowed from the lyric of a Billy Joe Shaver song, does far more than that. Her first solo album since 2003’s Stumble Into Grace, it is indeed a catalogue of Harris’s many gifts—as an interpreter, as an eloquent composer herself, as an inveterate musical explorer who’s been able to discover, rescue, and/or give new life to many a beautiful but overlooked country, bluegrass or folk tune. But the album also offers a living portrait of Harris, a recounting of her extraordinary history, through the many musicians and fellow singers she has collaborated with since the start of her solo career, so many of whom make appearances on these tracks. The all-star cast includes Dolly Parton, Vince Gill, the McGarrigle sisters, old friends from the Seldom Scene, Glenn D. Hardin of her legendary Hot Band, as well as some of the most versatile studio players around. It’s produced by Brian Ahern and engineered by Donivan Cowart, both of whom collaborated with Harris on such groundbreaking albums as Elite Hotel, Luxury Liner, and Blue Kentucky Girl.
Harris has chosen songs that, no matter how disparate their sources, illustrate similar themes of perseverance, faith, and fortitude. They range in tone from the intimate to the anthemic, united by Harris’s ability to channel the emotions of so many compelling characters. There’s grit, sadness, and just a touch of regret in tracks like Mark Germino’s “Broken Man’s Lament” and Merle Haggard’s “Kern River” that’s balanced by strength, wisdom and a healthy amount of hindsight on Tracy Chapman’s “All That You Have Is Your Soul” and Jude Johnson’s “Hold On.” Harris’s own “Take That Ride” is a forthright conversation with a God who may or may not be listening. By the time All I Intended To Be reaches a wistful but uplifting conclusion with “Beyond the Great Divide,” it’s tugging the soul as deeply as the heart, and the title that Harris chose reveals an even deeper, more personal, and spiritual meaning.
The album really began to take shape, Harris explains, with “Shores of White Sands,” a Jack Wesley Routh song about carrying on in the face of dashed romantic hopes. Harris had admired it when Warner Bros. Nashville artist Karen Brooks first cut the tune in 1982. How the song made it onto Harris’s album today, employing the original instrumental track from Brooks’ version, illustrates the feeling of collegiality and the air of serendipity that epitomize the entire process. Harris dedicates it to the memory of Doobie Brothers/Southern Pacific drummer Keith Knudsen, and that’s where the story begins.
Each one of these tracks has a story behind it; just about every credit reveals a fascinating connection. Harris has created a touchstone to her fertile past to help define an even richer present. While she may be taking stock of where she’s been, she’s by no means summing up. As Harris, who’s been a recording artist for nearly 40 years, says, “I’m still trying to expand my listening horizons, to find the kind of music that resonates for what we know to be true at this point in our lives. When you get to be 60, it’s not like you stop living. In fact, I think you live more and do have something to say.”
