I spend a lot of time listening to music. I know basically nothing much about chords or clefs. And I never liked poetry on its own. But great lyrics put to music can break your heart. I'll never admit how many times in a row I have listened to hundreds of favorite songs.
This is why I love songwriters. John Prine died this month, and he was among my favorites. He was a master of stringing together words in unforgettable ways.
You know the old phrase a picture is worth a thousand words? Prine could convey a whole picture in a couple of lines.
From his song "Souvenirs":
Broken hearts and dirty windows
Make life difficult to see
That's why last night and this morning
seem the same to me
Who else would think of comparing heartbreak to lapsed household cleaning?
In "Paradise," he sums up the demise of a Kentucky county's beauty spot:
Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man
"Far From Me" details a love affair that is obviously fizzling. The last line in this verse is so telling, yet I know I could never convey such a detail:
Why we used to laugh together
And we'd dance to any old song
Well, ya know, she still laughs with me
But she waits just a second too long
Later in the song, the boyfriend is trying to be hopeful but knows the truth:
"Will you still see me tomorrow?" [he asks]
"No, I got too much to do" [she responds]
Well, a question ain't really a question
If you know the answer too [he acknowledges]
And, yes, I know that he uses bad grammar at times, but he gets a pass from me in every case.
In "Sam Stone," he writes about a soldier returning from war with a drug habit. This observation spoken by someone in Sam's family makes me weepy every time:
There's a hole in Daddy's arm where all the money goes.
"Hello in There" is a heartbreaking song on the loneliness of neglected older people:
Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
In "Donald and Lydia," he writes about lonely singles
There were spaces between Donald and whatever he said.
Strangers had forced him to live in his head.
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine.
Spaces between Donald and whatever he said? I love it. (This song always reminds me of a person I once worked with. When I'd ask him a question, he'd pause for a moment as if he had to switch his ears back on to comprehend what I said.)
Prine's lyrics can also be fantastically funny. In "Spanish Pipedream," the narrator is a soldier who stops in a club and meets a memorable dancer.
Well, I sat there at the table and I acted real naive
For I know that topless lady had something up her sleeve
In "Bruised Orange" (what a great song title), he offers some advice on life:
For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
Wrapped up in a trap of your very own
Chain of sorrow.
"Angel From Montgomery" is about a woman watching her life slip by. I first heard it sung by Bonnie Raitt, so it was an adjustment to hear Prine speaking as a female narrator. But it grew on me:
If dreams were lightning and thunder were desire
This old house would have burnt down a long time ago
Later in the song, this comment on daily life is so perfect:
There's flies in the kitchen. I can hear 'em there buzzing
And I ain't done nothing since I woke up today
How the hell can a person go to work in the morning
And come home in the evening and have nothing to say?
One line from the sad song "Six O'Clock News" is:
God bless this kitchen said the knickknack shelf
Doesn't that just hit you with familiarity?
In "Jesus: The Missing Years," Prine offers a theory on what Jesus did in his younger years. I won't get into all the antics, but in this telling, Jesus did turn to music for a time:
He discovered the Beatles
And he recorded with the Stones
Once he even opened up a three-way package
In Southern California for old George Jones.
"In Spite of Ourselves" is a nutty song of enduring love. The wife sings of her husband:
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby, I'm his honey
I'm never gonna let him go
These lines from 2018's "When I Get to Heaven" give me strange comfort:
When I get to heaven, I'm gonna shake God's hand
Thank him for more blessings than one man can stand
Then I'm gonna get a guitar and start a rock-n-roll band
Check into a swell hotel; ain't the afterlife grand?
Next week, I'll go back to talking about grammar and language. But I'll be listening to John Prine in the meantime. And you should, too.
Reach Bernadette at
bkwordmonger@gmail.com
Style on 04/13/2020