A couple weeks ago, I posted a short remembrance of John Prine. COVID 19 took him from us, but not before he’d altered America’s consciousness with half a century of astounding songwriting. I asked members of my mailing list to send us their own memories of John. Here they are ...
I already was playing and singing John Prine songs before I saw him in Waikiki while I was in the Navy ‘round about 1973. I’ve probably forgotten more of his songs than I still know, and that is a lot. His was the first voice I heard on our local community radio station 41 years ago.He is one of the few artists that I keep learning the songs of, the latest being Egg and Daughter Night.
Thank you for this opportunity to give grateful tribute to the late, great John Prine’s prophetic poetic genius which was best exemplified by two of our Woodstock Generation’s most culturally impactful songs: SamStone and IllegalSmile. The former decried the illegal Vietnam War and the latter presaged We the People’s now solid victory in the hypocritically fruitless and sadly still too often tragically hurtful War on Drugs.
We’re soooooo grateful for your Musical Legacy, Dearly Departed Folk Songwriting
Giant whom We Luv, Love, LOVE: JohnPrine.
I started listening to John in the mid to late '70's when I was in college. I was hooked. I will never forget the concert I attended at the Paramount in Austin, TX with John and Steve Goodman together. It was magical. His range of songwriting that makes you bust out laughing and then zings your heart was one of kind. The one thing I learned from his illness and now death was just how many of my friends loved him too. I was surprised at the variety and number of people who responded first to my post on Facebook about his being sick and then about his passing - as well as postings of their own. He touched so many lives and will be deeply, deeply missed.
I admired John Prine's words and music-- the wonderful humor and biting commentary, so accurate.
I'm almost 10 years ahead of you in listening to John Prine. He was one of my favorite singers/songwriters. I actually thought his voice was perfect for his songs. He wrote songs that were goofy, and songs that were profound, often at the same time. I have heard his songs used to mark special events - Paradise for environmental pillage, Hello in There for mental health and loneliness, Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven any More for wars and Veteran's Day...and now, Don't Bury Me in the Cold, Cold Ground and This Man is Goin' to Town for his death. You need a song for an occasion, go look at John Prine's oevre.
When I heard he was in the hospital on a respirator, I wrote into his website and kept looking for news on his condition every morning. I was pleased to see how many people other than me loved John Prine's songs, even one woman from England who said that she had never heard of John Prine until she read that he had coronavirus, so she started listening to his songs and now is a devoted fan.
I was heartbroken when he died, and did a mini - John Prine song listening marathon at my house. Somehow, when I was listening to his songs, I was able to laugh and appreciate the phrases and forget about our loss. A little taste of heaven, if you ask me. One long evening, and I'm only finished CD1. There is a 50 song John Prine set on YouTube, for those of you who aren't so fortunate as to own the box set.
So I hope you're forming that band in heaven, John Prine. Save a spot for me. I bet I'll be welcome. Onward with love and music,
As for a tribute to John Prine, my story is not unusual. Growing up in the greater Chicago area I knew that John, Steve Goodman & Bonnie Koloc regularly played at the Earl of Old Town and Holsteins and I wanted to play there, too. Eventually, I did.
As I started performing professionally, a couple John Prine songs were always on the setlist; Please Don't Bury Me, Dear Abby and Your Flag Decal were always crowd favorites.
Just yesterday, I posted a John Prine cover to Facebook.
Here is "Big Ol’ Goofy World."
COVID 19 BREAKDOWN
for John Prine
World a prison
America’s Head Screw
Ain’t well maintained
Might not be human
Certainly ain’t humane
Stranger danger in the manger
An innocent bat
And armored pangolin
Took us all on
Brought great nations to their knees
Love from distance
Equals attempt at connection
The art of touching
Out of business
Like all the restaurants in the sky
Don’t cry for me Susannah
As banjo players seek refuge
In isolation wards and
Breathing machines plugged
Into the wrong Zeitgeist
I dared to walk outside
Myself and peer intently in
Was there never any foundation
Willing to grant us wonders
Earned and stolen from
Troubadours of the new as
Marching boots threaten power
Awaken from gullible daydreams sisters
Brothers it’s past time to move
We can chant people and sigh revolt
But our heads must stay
In the Suckers Game until
Victory is declared by forces of grace
Dressed in shimmering gowns
Stitched by elves and shamans
Songs survive and grow lyrics
Dig deeper every time we listen
Birds sing round the clock
Spheres make music on
Their own labels — I’ll meet
You in Paradise at the OK Corral