Our Dirty Little Love Affair with John Prine

COVID-19 killed John Prine April 7, 2020. At 73, with two cancer wins and one of his best albums, “The Tree of Forgiveness,” only two years ago, he was far from going gently anywhere. This hit home hard. He was family. We didn’t know him, but it sure as hell felt like we did. Through his heartfelt, hilarious and beautifully, plain-spoken lyrics, we knew him better than some of our blood relatives. His Nerudian verses about ordinary things made his writing, extraordinarily relatable. Simple but complex. His songs logged an ungodly number of miles on our many-a road trips. We’ll miss him dearly, but will continue to put miles on his songs.

I first heard of him through a song that literally made me pull over while driving, “In Spite of Ourselves.” While attending the University of South Carolina, I hosted a “Latin alternative” music show at our famed college radio station WUSC. Young and full of change-the-world ambitions, I spun music with the intent of shattering stereotypes about Latinos and Latin music. My artillery included punk, hip-hop, disco, lounge, and reggae – all sung en español and often mashed up with Latin beats. Anything but salsa or merengue was my MO.

As it turned out, my own preconceived notions about good music and who listened to what got a kick to the head. Shekeese, the hip-hop DJ, loved the "Red Bank Bar and Grill" country show hosted by the legendary Uncle Gram. Uncle Gram, to my ignorant surprise, dug my Latin alternative show. I loved Claire DeLune's "Blues Moon" show, but like Shekeese, I loved me some Uncle Gram, too. For a kid from Miami, Florida, who grew up conditioned to think country music was hillbilly junk for mocking purposes only, my world was rocked. Uncle Gram introduced me to my favorites - the Mount Rushmore of country music: Highwaymen Johnny, Willie, Waylan and Kris, as well as Merle, Hank, and, of course, John Prine.

When I first heard "In Spite of Ourselves" while driving, I took the foot off the gas and turned into a side street. I called Uncle Gram at the station to find out who it was. I couldn't leave that song to chance and just hope our paths would cross again. I had to know immediately. Love at first listen. Not sure where I was headed that day, but when I hung up with Uncle Gram, I darted over to Papa Jazz Records in Five Points and picked up whatever Prine music they had in stock.

For many years, Prine felt like my girlfriend and I’s sweet, funny, sometimes dirty little secret. No one had heard of him in circles we frequented. Maybe they were squares after all. He transported us to back to our alma mater in the Bible Belt, minus all the bible-thumping, pseudo patriotic bullshit. “Jesus, the Missing Years” imagines Jesus traveling through Europe, shoplifting, going to a dance, and meeting “pretty Italian chicks.” “Sam Stone” is a devastating song about a returning war veteran with a “hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes.” “In Spite of Ourselves,” a he-said-she-said duet with Iris DeMent, has two particularly colorful images that made it nearly impossible for my wife and I to sing it without blushing: “Convict movies make her horny” and “I caught him once and he was sniffin’ my undies.”

A few years later, my now wife – same girl – and I caught Prine at the Warner Theater in Washington, D.C. By then, it didn't matter if he skipped “Spite.” We knew his song book enough that we would have been happy just listening to the man and his songs. We had mixed feelings on whether we wanted to even hear "Spite" if he sang it with anyone other than DeMent. Surely, Prine didn’t bring Iris along on tour just for one song? Out of nowhere, John brought Iris on stage, and they sang it live. In a lifetime full of healthy concert experiences, this was easily top-five material.

As we're hunkered down in Italy, I enlisted the help of The Monkey Dragons - our daughter Aylin, 9, and son Emilio, 7 - to give this song a whirl. Admittedly not the most "PG" song out there, but it seemed like a great time to introduce them to his genius. We only rehearsed it a couple of times before hitting record, as we wanted to get it while the feelings are still raw. Here's our not-quite-perfect, but from-the-heart cover of "In Spite of Ourselves." It's a good things kids have no shame. They were able to cruise through the spicy lyrics without much blushing, though the "undies" part drew some giggles. I did take the liberty to change "horny" to "thorny" for “two” obvious reasons. I hope that's okay, Mr. Prine?

Here's to John Prine eternally "a-sittin' on a rainbow." RIP.