Sweet songs never last too long

Exactly-odo, Quasimodo--only John Prine

It hasn't been the best week for my musical heroes and their families--sadly, John Prine joined Bill Withers at the Great Rock and Roll Concert in the Sky yesterday, due to complications from COVID-19.  As if I didn't have enough reasons to hate Donald Trump...

I discovered John Prine thanks to a great review in Rolling Stone in 1978 for his album Bruised Orange.  While he'll primarily be remembered for his songwriting skills (which were formidable), I'll remember him for his sense of humor and self-deprecating wit as well.  John Prine was one of those rare artists who never let his success go to his head, and always seemed more like a guy you'd like to have as your next door neighbor than a Songwriting Hall of Fame musician.

This one really hurts--the joy I got from listening to John Prine these now forty some odd years is immeasurable.  While Prine likely had several songs that could be called signature songs, this one was the first to showcase both his gift with words and his gigantic heart.  It also contains one of my favorite lines ever written in a song:  "Sam Stone was alone/ When he popped his last balloon/Climbing walls while sitting in a chair...."  Enjoy:

Fuck Donald Trump
emaycee