Clouds in My Coffee #6: Pissing Off John Prine

[Another installment in the ongoing true life adventures of Periphery Man, who has had myriad peculiar encounters with celebrities, while not being a celebrity himself.]

John Prine copped his Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Album, and it was heartening to see a great songwriter get his props. The album, Fair and Square, is full of the sardonic tunesmith's trademark pithy humor and heart, and includes one of the most painfully funny political folk songs in recent memory, Some Humans Ain't Human, with its mordant verse:

Have you ever noticed / When you're feeling really good / There's always a pigeon / That'll come shit on your hood / Or you're feeling your freedom / And the world's off your back / Some cowboy from Texas / Starts his own war in Iraq...

At any rate, hearing of Prine's win -- a testament to the idea that some of us may indeed be getting better (or at least remaining just as good) as we get older -- set my nostalgic mind wending back, back to mine and his youth, when I had the... somewhat conflicted pleasure of spending a few minutes with the man...

 

John Prine may still not be a household name, but he's been a songwriter's god since the release of his first album, in 1971 -- a collection of gem-like musical short story character portraits that were hilarious and heartbreaking in a dark-end-of-the-bar kind of way (and inspired cover versions by artists as disparate as Johnny Cash and Bette Midler*).  

Back then I was among the many fledgling writers to sit up, take notice and steal from him what I could.  So I was excited to hear from my friend Ann Purtill, then head of A&R at Elektra Records, that she had met Prine and had gotten shnockered with him.  I pressed Ann for details, and one thing that made an impression on me was her reportage about one aspect of his writing method.

According to Ann, Prine said that he'd created a sort of loosely-connected fictional family out of the characters in his songs.  In his world, the Vietnam War veteran Sam Stone was maybe the grandson of the farm widow who sings Angel From Montgomery, who was related to the lovers in Donald and Lydia.  I loved the notion of this, which only upped the Winesburg, Ohio aura of that first record -- I could envision Prine's characters crossing paths at the local convenience store, their various personal tragi-comedies masked behind casual "how's it goin'?"s.

In 1973 I did some recording with Carly Simon in L.A., and when I went with her to see Prine play at the Troubadour, I was among the access-happy folk backstage after the show.  When I found myself seated next to him on a dressing room bench, I gave regards from Ann Purtill, whom he apparently remembered fondly.

Prine had a voice like gravel and an amiable face with a hangover squint in his eyes.  He was a drinker in those days, and not the most forthcoming in that moment, but the fact that he was smiling emboldened me.  "Ann was telling me," I said, "about how the characters in your songs were related to each other -- like a family?"

John's smile evaporated.  He looked directly at me for the first time.  "I don't write about my family," he said.

"No, no," I hastened to explain.  "Not your family.  The people in your songs.  You know, like Sam Stone-- "

He was in dark-browed scowl mode now.  "Who told you that?"

"You were telling Ann?  About how you thought of some of the characters in your songs as being related...?"

He stared at the floor for a long moment.  It was hard to tell if he was merely trying to get his mind around what I'd said, or trying to choose the best way to tell me to fuck off.  "You sayin' something about my family?" was what he finally came out with.

Prine was defensively shifting his weight on the bench now, looking like he was ready to hurt me.  I muttered a "never mind" and "pleased to meet you" and slipped off to another corner of the dressing room.  There were photos taken there that night of John and Carly, but without any Periphery Man in the frame.

In an alternate universe, John Prine would've understood me fine and we would've talked all night and a great friendship between gifted peers would've been born, with me commemorating our meet by writing a song about Sam Stone's mother (wearing army boots), maybe later writing the libretto for the musical Prine-burg, Illinois.

In this world, I'm left with the knowledge that some writing borders should not be broached, glad that I escaped this particular celebrity encounter without a black eye for an autograph.

*You can find Carly's cover of Angel From Montgomery here on her box set (entitled Clouds in My Coffee) with yours truly playing piano.

(c) 2006 Billy Mernit all rights reserved.

Comments

[carolyn]

i really love the bonnie riatt version of 'angel from montgomery'

[Write Procrastinator]

Damn Billy, you really have to put "Periphery Man" in book form. So not only that everyone can enjoy it, but especially so that those of us that are old enough to remember the people involved, can actually remember anything.

[mernitman]

Carolyn: Ditto!

WritePro: That's a funny/sad thought. I did actually go out with a "Clouds" proposal some years back, and met with complete indifference and incomprehension from the lit agents who saw it ("But you didn't really... KNOW these celebrities well," said one, as the whole point of the book sailed over her head). Thus, I'm going public with these stories in this medium, hoping those who Get It will enjoy them. So... thanks for getting it.

[ECHenry]

I'm with Write Procastinator on that. Periphery Man, your stories rock! Write that book -- I'll buy it!

Sorry you had to go through that. Sure writers pour some of their experiences and people in their lives into their art, but Prine over-reacted. When you're an enterainer and put your stuff out there, you should be ready for questions like yours. Prine SHOULD have treated you with respect, especially since you showed knowledgible interest in his work.

As far as crossing borders when it comes to writing, I'm of the opinion that writers SHOULD mentor/help others out, and those others SHOULD respect the writer's work and unique vision with a mindset of developing UNIQUE WORKS of their own. (I bring that up because you mentioned STEALING from another artist)

Why steal? Even if you succed, you still lose. When you steal someone's art you're a hack, a scumbag. Its a house of sand, where you'll be constantly living with the fear that someone will find you out for the fraud you have allowed yourself to become.

I'd LOVE to learn from masters of the craft (Shane Black, Akiva Goldsman, William Goldman, Ron Bass, David Koepp), but I NEVER want to copy their unique style, or rip them off.

Learn and be friends with, yes. Steal from, NEVER.

- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA

[writergurl]

Oh, I've had an encounter with a "Rock God"... and it was on par with your experience... "meh" at best.

My brother is a pro jazz drummer, he's played with Peter Buck (of REM) in his side group; a "free form" jazz group called Tuatara. (They've disbanded now.)

Anyhooo, one night, Tuatara and my baby bro come to Alanta to play the Variety Playhouse, and I get a backstage pass, cause after all, my bro is playing. On this night, all the members of REM are there for the show, including Micheal Stipe (my bro's name is Mike as well). So, the kid is playing and I've never been prouder of not having killed him when he was teenager and banging on those damn drums all the live long day. At the end of the concert, my brother exits the stage and heads to the Green Room, where a wide variety of adult beverages await. I head backstage after him (tickled me no end when one of the walls of men told the other wall, who was trying to stop me, "No man, she's with the band.") and, as I head into the green Room, I raise my voice a little and project to my bro, waiting at the end of the room, "Mike, damn, that was great! I loved it!" My bro smiles at that and I continue towards him to give him a hug when I hear a snicker. I turn around and Michael Stipe is giggling! I said "What's so funny? I thought he sounded great!" Micheal Stipe then responds "Oh, yeah, he was good, I'm laughing cause, well, for a second there, I thought you were talking to me and I haven't done anything yet."

No, dude, I wasn't talking to YOU. I was talking to my brother Mike, and oh by the way, there's Mike Mills standing next to you, and HE didn't think I was talking about him, you egomaniac you!

Some people.

[Write Procrastinator]

"That's a funny/sad thought. I did actually go out with a "Clouds" proposal some years back, and met with complete indifference and incomprehension from the lit agents who saw it"

And there is true irony, those you would imagine to be more cultured and informed, having less world experience than those they would consider to be beneath them. I don't mean you being below the publishers, but blue-collar people such as myself.

"But you didn't really... KNOW these celebrities well," said one, as the whole point of the book sailed over her head"

What, do you have to "Frey" the whole thing up, or do you have to "Gump" yourself down, to sell it?

"Thus, I'm going public with these stories in this medium, hoping those who Get It will enjoy them. So... thanks for getting it."

You're welcome and more importantly, thank you very much for sharing these experiences. This is precisely what I look for when I go blog surfing. Small, poignant and beautiful stories.

Moreover, you write the book, I'll buy it.

[uhjim]

more great stuff bill. periphery man always makes me laugh. with 20-20 hindsight i say -buy the man a drink.

[MaryAn]

But "Clouds in my coffee" came from "You're so Vain" which Carly Simon wrote, not Prine.

My only brush with songwriting celebrity was when my grandfather, one drunk night, wrote Wasted Days and Wasted Nights on a cocktail napkin while sitting in a bar with Freddy Fender. After my grandfather died, Fender got ownership of everything they cowrote and my grandfather's name is rarely associated with the song anymore.

[mernitman]

E.C. -- my "steal" was facetious.

WriterG: Funny story. Some people, indeed.

Thanks again, WritePro... thank you Uh-Jim...

MaryAn: That's very cool about your grandad, and I'm sorry he didn't get the credit he deserved. Speaking of which -- actually, in truth, I wrote the line "clouds in my coffee," and you can find the explanation for its use as the title for this series, in the first "Clouds" post, http://livingromcom.typepad.com/my_weblog/2005/09/clouds_in_my_co.html

[ECHenry]

I went back to read that first "Clouds" post, Billy. And I was wondering, are you and Carly Simon still friends? You mentioned rubbing elbows with some of the greatest artists in our modern era, and it has me wondering if you were able to make any meaningful friendships/in roads as a result of those encounters?

E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA

[MaryAn]

Aaaaahhhhh, I only wish you had heard me say "that's the only line in that whole bewildering song I like" as I read through this post the other day. Too late now.

[abby]

I love reading the stories of periphery man - fame is so...relative... but the funny thing that I'm not sure you consider is that there are folks out there even lower on the celebrity food chain who may be nostaligically spinning yarns about their brushes with YOU -- in all Your greatness. One man's periphery is another's epicenter.

[mernitman]

Abby, now THAT is a frightening thought...