It’s taken me several days to process the loss of John Prine. The outpouring of tributes, cover versions of his songs, and stories about his life have been incredible to see. Over the past 4 or 5 years, I’d come to the conclusion that John Prine was America’s greatest living songwriter. I took every opportunity to see him play and got to witness some pretty special shows here in Nashville. Some that included many of his musical contemporaries and other heroes of mine. Watching them marvel at the power of his words and music always gave me chills.
John’s music has more influence on my life than any other artist I can think of. In the early 2000s, when I was contemplating trying to work in the music business. I discovered that John Prine (and Gillian Welch) both resided in Nashville. That’s was enough for me to pack up after college and move to Nashville. Those early years where tough and his music was always something I could count on to provide advice on how to navigate those precarious days.
John’s music meant more to me than any other artist. His tongue-in-cheek delivery and simple melodies always brought a smile to my face even while listening to something as heartbreaking as “Hello in There”. There was something so tender about his melodies and plain-delivery that cut through right to the heart of the human condition. Song’s like “Lake Marie” and “Sam Stone” still absolutely floor me in the way they are able to deliver the absurd nature of existence and senseless tragedy with humor and empathy. John’s songs often reminded me of one of my favorite filmmakers, Wes Anderson. He had this ability to make you feel the intense despair of a character’s situation and then having you laughing and hopeful that everything is going to work out all within a few lines.
John’s music was also special to me as it was something I’ve always shared with my father. My Dad has loved John’s music for more than 30 years. We’ve seen him a handful of times together of the years and those are some of my favorite musical memories.
I’ll end these thoughts with a pretty banal story about John. I got to meet a lot of amazing artists over the years but was never able to meet him. One Saturday evening a few years back, I was at a furniture store in Nashville and it was closing to the store’s closing time. We thought we were the only customers in the store. I came around the corner and spotted John and Fiona near the register. John was sitting at one of the display dining room tables looking a little tired but in good spirits. One of my biggest regrets in life was not getting the courage to go talk to him. But as I pretended not to stare at them while we finished up our shopping, I got to witness the boundless love that he and Fiona shared. John just sat there and watched his wife while she was picking out side-tables and you could just see how much he adored her. As they caught each other’s eye from across the store he winked at her and closed his eyes to rest a bit. I like to think that’s how John would have wanted to go out and maybe he did. I feel so lucky to have lived in a time in which John existed and was making music. He gave us the playbook for dealing with this loss in the words to his songs. We need just sit back and listen.