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On November 20th, 2003 I had the great pleasure of seeing the late, great John Prine (1946-2020) at the National Arts Centre. If I figure it correctly, this would have been the first time that I saw a full, proper John Prine concert after having seen him in the very same room three years earlier as one of five performers taking part in a star-studded song circle in support of landmine eradication (of all things). The four or five songs Prine played at that concert had been my introduction to his music and I walked out the door that night completely flabbergasted that I had somehow missed out on John Prine for the whole of my 30+ years of active music consumption.
It was shortly thereafter that I got my mitts on a copy of Prine’s self-titled 1971 debut album and lost my mind at how good it was (is). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: John Prine’s first album sounds like a greatest hits collection from the entire folk era. Flag Decal, Angel From Montgomery, Illegal Smile, Sam Stone, Paradise, Hello in There…my gawd man, this was the guy’s first album?!?!?! I ate it up like candy.
Oddly (though it is often my habit), my reverence for that album did not (and still has not) inspired me to listen to any more of John Prine’s material* so as I sat at this show I would most certainly have been hearing many of the songs for the first time.
So, while I’d be lying if I told you that I remembered much if anything about this concert in particular (to be honest I’m not above such deception but I just can’t be bothered right now) I can pinky-promise that I would have spent the entirety of this concert sitting on the edge of my seat ready to burst as I heard songs like In Spite of Ourselves, Jesus the Missing Years, and Please Don’t Bury Me** for the first time. Further, I can assure you with great confidence that I would have been pressing both of my hands firmly against my mouth trying not to laugh out loud at the sheer glee of hearing Prine’s simple genius and his genius of simplicity***, a reflex that I would get under control after attending a few more John Prine concerts.
I feel very fortunate for those few more John Prine shows…I think I can honestly say that once I finally heard him I never once missed a John Prine concert. And now he’s gone; a great troubadour falling tragic victim to an unforgiving, unforgivable virus. The canary has died.
Stupid covid.
*There are countless artists of all disciplines who fall into this category for me, and I know it’s a shame.
**For the record I don’t actually recall if he played these songs at this show. (What, did I accidentally swallow truth serum today or something? Hold my calls.)
***When such astounding feats of shocking beauty hit me for the first time my reaction is to laugh hysterically. Depending on the situation this can be awkward to say the least, so as to not distract from whatever show I am at I forcefully cover my mouth in order to try to squelch my overflowing aural ecstasy. This happened to me the first time I saw The Grateful Dead, Bob Wiseman, Cravery, Cirque du Soleil, Bobby McFerrin, and so many others. Oh, how I giggled the first time I heard Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor!
Todd Man Out 