Unlike some people, I didn’t grow up in Music City. I had to find out about John Prine by babysitting for a fairly uptight young couple that had a bedtime-compliant little boy, the good snacks, and John Denver’s 1972 album, Rocky Mountain High. Denver covered John Prine’s 1971 song,
“Paradise,” which had the line: “Where the air smelled like snakes, and we’d shoot with our pistols/but empty pop bottles was all we would kill.” I thought that was a hell of a lyric, and I became a lifelong John Prine fan.
John Prine’s songs are always good company, the right blend of humor and biting observation. And he’s good company, too. He reminds me of my favorite uncle—I bet he gets told that fairly often.
For your Saturday knitting, I recommend cuing up this April 2018 interview of John Prine by Rita Houston of New York’s WFUV. That will get you started, and then, if you’re like me, you’ll proceed directly to YouTube and let the John Prine songs roll until you cry 20 times and laugh 40 times.
Then you’ll be all set.