John Prine Is Gone and Heaven Just Got a Whole Helluva Lot Better

Well, if you love songwriting, you loved John Prine. No, let's try that again. If you love songwriting, you really, really, really loved John Prine. What an outpouring of love and affection and deep appreciation on the web after Prine left us last week! I think I've seen more articles on him than I did on Bowie after his death. Think about that.

My theory is that because the web pieces are written by writers, and writers love words, then they simply had no choice but to write about Prine because no songwriter ever wrote lyrics, that is, employed words like he did. Which is why his lyrics have been so liberally shared in these appreciations, often in big chunks. People who love Prine want you to love him, too. No, they are sure that, if you are as cool as they think you are, you inevitably will love him too. Prine lovers are evangelical like that, that is, if this particular group of missionaries is given to lighting one up to achieve that "illegal smile."

In one article, maybe at American Songwriter, the guy said that no songwriter was ever foolish enough to listen to a Prine song and say, Hey, I can do that too. They know that the only way to write like Prine would be to have access to his brain, his mind, his empathetic, associative mode of engaging life. If you tried to do something borderline silly like he often did, well you would end up just sounding silly instead of profound like Prine, or if you tried to cobble together everyday phrases to make a song you would end up just being boring instead of achieving that mixture of of pathos and hilarity that was his calling card.

I have seen the word Zen used a couple times this week to describe Prine's work, his way of being and seeing. Well, it has driven me nuts to see the this word abused so often in the discourse of the last few years, but in this case it is apt, apropos, and spot on. Zen is non-dualistic; unique value is intrinsic to and arises from every phenomenon of life. There is no differentiation between high and low, sacred or profane. Access to enlightenment is equally open to all. There is no better example of the Zen of Prine than his song "It's a Big Old Goofy World." The song is basically a mash up of funny colloquial sayings that everyday people use often and without thinking. A quick sample: "You oughta see his wife / She's a cute little dish / She smokes like a chimney / And drinks like a fish." Now, admittedly, that's not much to look at on a page, but when you hear him sing it, and when you hear a whole bunch of them strung together in real time, it kind of moves you to another place.

For years I have played back in my mind my memory of seeing Prine perform "Big Old Goofy World" at the Newport Folk Festival, maybe around 1991 or '92 or so. The sky was a perfect blue dome, and thousands of us were arrayed between the stage and the shimmering harbor. And I think Prine did this one solo, or maybe that's a false memory. But I see him now, walking, slowly pacing the stage delivering the song, and the the words kind of floated in the air above us and sifted right through us. Believe me, I was sober as a judge, but there was an atmospheric change, inside and out. And the phrases seemed like koans. And then there was the verse that offered a little, well, friendly advice:

Kiss a little baby
Give the world a smile
If you take an inch
Give 'em back a mile
Cause if you lie like a rug
And you don't give a damn
You're never gonna be
As happy as a clam

And then there was the chorus that was both a benediction and a plea for us to be amused by the world when it does and doesn't make sense, and to be big enough to know that it's the little things that matter most:

There's a big old goofy man
Dancing with a big old goofy girl
Ooh baby
It's a big old goofy world

At the start of this piece I talked about how all those writers writing about Prine loved him so much. I guess I want to make sure and be counted among that number. I loved him from when I first heard him in the 70s, when he and Steve Goodman were the heroes of Chicago's Old Town. And even though I don't listen him so much these days I never stopped loving him, and am grateful for how he helped fine tune my heart and my mind and my essential being into better things. I didn't even listen to any Prine this week after he died. Didn't need to. His songs live inside me.

Coming soon: A close look at some of his songs