149. John Prine, "John Prine"

 

Totally true small world story about John Prine: in the late 60's he was a mailman in Chicago and one of the people on his route back when you knew your mailman and talked to them was my wife's uncle and they used to hang out and chat.  Wild, huh?  

John Prine went on to become not only one of the world's greatest songwriters but also a mentor and father figure and general lifter upper to a whole generation of younger songwriters like Jason Isbell and Sturgill Simpson.  He was one of the first people I recognized who died of Covid (along with Fountains of Wayne's Adam Schlesinger, another monster songwriting talent of a different era).  Prine wasn't just the aw-shucks singer-songwriter type, he was an absolute legend, but maybe only in the songwriting community.  (Speaking of aw shucks, he said the cover photo for this album was the first time he'd ever sat on a hay bale - the man was from Chicago!)

You can hear it all on this album, his first.  He was famously signed to Atlantic the day after Jerry Wexler saw him open for Kris Kristofferson (who was a Prine superfan) at the Bitter End in New York, and already had a bunch of songs - a lot of which he composed in his head doing his Chicago mail route - ready to go.  He's been so prolifically covered that there are songs on this album you've almost certainly heard done by other artists.

Take "Angel From Montgomery," one of the finest songs ever written, done here in his sparse, solo style, and more famously done by Bonnie Raitt and others.  Writing and singing from the perspective of a woman as a male artist just wasn't done in 1971, but John Prine did it, and wrote one of the best verses I've ever heard:

There's flies in the kitchen
I can hear 'em there buzzin'
And I ain't done nothing
Since I woke up today
How the hell can a person
Go to work in the morning
Then come home in the evening
And have nothing to say?

Jesus, you can hear their whole relationship in just those last four heartbreaking lines.  John's voice isn't the best, I'm sorry to admit, but please, please do yourself a favor and listen to Raitt's anguished version.  And "Paradise," which you might know from its chorus "And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County/Down by the Green River where Paradise lay" has been covered by everyone from the Everly Brothers to Jimmy Buffet to John Fogerty.

"Sam Stone," the sad tale of a Vietnam vet (well, Vietnam is never specified in the song, but it's pretty clear) who's a hopeless addict also puts incredibly insightful lyrics to a truly great melody:

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios

Prine was funny, too.  "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore" is a wry stab at performative patriotism and mindless jingoism that rings true even more today, when we still are compelled to stand and remove our caps for "God Bless America" during the 7th inning stretch of baseball games on Sunday, a tradition that started after 9/11 and now appears permanent.  And the first track, "Illegal Smile," a winking ode to the joys of smoking weed ("And you may see me tonight with an illegal smile/It don't cost very much, but it lasts a long while") was probably pretty daring in 1971 but seems precious today.

Like "Sam Stone," a lot of the album deals with darker themes.  "Six O'Clock News" is an aching lament, the story of a boy who finds out he's the product of an incestuous relationship and kills himself.  "Hello In There" is about growing old and how time stretches until it breaks.  It's a gorgeous song, with a melody you'd kill for, and is unspeakably sad.

You can hear Prine's deep lasting influence all over this record.  Every singer-songwriter type, from James Taylor to Cat Stevens to Kacey Musgraves and Kurt Vile and of course Sturgill Simpson, owes something to the man.  We lost a giant when we lost John Prine.

I feel another connection to him - we both met and married Irish women, and they both impacted our lives in ways we can never completely explain.  I may have gotten a little emotional listening to this album, and why not.  It's good to feel.

Does this album deserve to be in the Top 500? Oh my god yes.