We've waited a long, lonely time for John Prine to come back to New Haven. The last time I heard him sing in this town was in the late '70s or early '80s -- I pulled my clipping of that great event out of the 'ol peach box of yellowing Register music reviews, but I hadn't written down the date on the thing. Still, it told me this much: I had a nice time talking with the man in his room at the Holiday Inn, a few hours before he hit the stage at Toad's Place. (He got excited about eating at Louis' Lunch when I told him about the place, but it was closed that night.)
He told me about being a mail man back in Chicago as he was trying to break into the singing business. Shortly after he got the nerve to tell the U.S. Postal Service he was retiring from their employ, he landed a recording contract (because somebody realized the guy could write fabulous lyrics as well as sing them beautifully) and in 1971 he released that first album, "John Prine." Still a classic.
Yeah, but when I went to the Holiday Inn that day, the clerk downstairs had never heard of John Prine. And if you'd walked around downtown last Friday night, just before he so moved the crowd at the Shubert Theater, I'm sure plenty of people would have replied, "John who?" if you had asked them about that name.
No, he didn't sell out the place, but that's OK. He got up there with his fellow guitarists, Jason Wilber and Dave "Daddy" Jacques and he shared a wonderful evening with us.
Maybe you know his "Angel From Montgomery," because Bonnie Raitt had a hit with it. Well, he sang that beautiful song for us and at least a dozen more, and he told us stories between them. For instance, he talked about singing in a Chicago club on Thursday nights after he'd gotten done delivering the mail.
My favorite moment was when he sang "Hello in There," the most moving song about old people you ever will hear. Jacques' mourning deep bass was a wonderful accompaniment.
The encore, after a rousing standing ovation, was "Paradise," his ode to Muhlenburg County and the Green River "where paradise lay." And he wants his daddy to take him back there, but no: "I'm sorry, my son...Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away."
Prine reveres the country, the traditions, the struggling people.
If you ever get another chance, go and listen.
Thanks, John Prine. I hope this time you made it to Louis' Lunch.