A three-song hearth-glow: Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris turning late-night television into a quiet, shared confession.
If you ever want to understand why harmony singing can feel like memory itself—not the facts of the past, but the temperature of it—go back to the 1987 appearance of Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson (aired March 13, 1987). That night wasn’t just promotion; it was a kind of musical proof. Their long-awaited album Trio had been released days earlier on March 2, 1987, and it arrived with the force of something people had been holding their breath for. In the U.S., the record debuted at No. 38 on Billboard’s pop album chart (what we now shorthand as the Billboard 200)—an “impressive” entrance that hinted it wouldn’t stay modest for long. Sure enough, it later peaked at No. 6 on the Billboard 200 (week of May 2, 1987) and held No. 1 on Top Country Albums for five weeks.
The beauty is not in who “wins” a lead line, but in how the other two enter—softly, faithfully—like friends stepping closer when the room gets cold.
Part of the behind-the-scenes story is the sheer delay of destiny. The three women had tried to make a full album together back in the mid-1970s, but schedules, logistics, and the reality of separate label worlds kept the dream half-finished for years. When Trio finally happened, producer George Massenburg captured something rarer than polish: the sound of artists who didn’t need to prove their power anymore, only their taste—their devotion to songs that could withstand being sung slowly, clearly, and without disguise.
And what songs they chose for that kind of honesty.
“The Pain of Loving You” opens like a truth you don’t want to say out loud. Co-written by Dolly Parton with Porter Wagoner, it carries a particular ache: love as a place where tenderness and injury live under the same roof. When it’s sung by three voices, the lyric stops sounding like a private argument and becomes something broader—like the old human bargain: we accept the risk because the warmth is real.
Then comes “To Know Him Is to Love Him”—a song that already had ghosts in its walls. Written by Phil Spector, it was inspired by the inscription on his father’s gravestone (“To Know Him Was to Love Him”), and it has always felt like love remembered in a hushed voice. In Trio form, it became more than a clever revival: it turned into a small, late-night benediction that country radio embraced completely. Their version was the album’s first single (released January 26, 1987) and it reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot Country Songs (week of May 16, 1987). Not because it was flashy—but because it sounded certain, the way the best old songs do: as if they’ve been waiting for you.
And “Those Memories of You” is the room after everyone has gone home. In many credits it’s noted with Dolly Parton as the lead presence, and you can hear why: her phrasing makes the word “memories” feel heavy, not sentimental—like something you actually carry. The song became a Top 5 country hit for them, which is almost astonishing when you remember how unhurried it feels—proof that audiences will follow a slow song if the emotion is precise.
What lingers about that Tonight Show medley isn’t just the prestige of three famous names. It’s the way their blend suggests a deeper idea: that harmony is a kind of agreement—three lives, three histories, meeting on one breath. Late-night TV usually asks performers to be bright, quick, and finished. Trio did something braver: they sounded unrushed. They let the songs keep their shadows. And in doing so, they left behind a performance that still feels like an heirloom—passed hand to hand, year to year, for anyone who has ever loved something they couldn’t quite keep.