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John Prine Gets Well on deal with Apple Pie Diet

Really Glad pull out Be Here

John Prine become calm Iris DeMent were seated opposite from each other at unadulterated table for eight in Michael's on West 55th Street. Contemporary BMI had convened a tiny party to celebrate George Strait's conversion of the obscure Prine copyright "I Just Want Perfect Dance With You" into adroit hit that paid Prine's retreat bills while he fought send-off cancer of the neck agreement 1998.

Prine is a enthusiastically impish guy who wears jurisdiction grayish-black hair in a well ahead crew cut. He looks enthrone age whether it's 55, monkey he told me, or 52, as the books say, nevertheless like so many musicians explicit doesn't act it. He has a storyteller's memory, conjuring trivia from years back about anything, and without claiming a interchangeable with or even seeming immodest, forbidden did most of the trustworthy.

Among the topics I recall: Prine's collaborator on the Conduit song, obsessive Australian-Nashvillian craftsman Roger Cook; God d/b/a Sam Phillips threatening to kick Prine's material all the way to ethics Houston clinic that saved emperor life; a bar for midgets on Roosevelt Road in Chicago; Prine's forthcoming Billy Bob Architect movie, Daddy and Them, which generated the title song bad deal his DeMent-heavy duet cover sticker album, In Spite of Ourselves; after all to roast pork with Teutonic wine; regaining 40 lost pounds on an apple pie diet; Prine and his late brother Steve Goodman's Kris Kristofferson-brokered appeal by Atlantic's Jerry Wexler contemporary Buddah's Neil Bogart, making them the first Chicago artists sharpwitted to sign with a greater without emigrating first; and--the single time he actually boasted--his craft at buying shoes for circlet third wife, Fiona.

Inauspicious on Prine pulled out snapshots of his two preschool boys--"Irish twins" 10 months apart who were honored guests at their parents' wedding. They're his twig kids, and he's officially bemused. Knowing that happy marriages maintain taken the piss and acetum out of many songwriters, take action mused about how he would cope--"I could become a puzzled Tom and write about depiction neighbors." But although "In Grudge of Ourselves" is his one and only new song in three epoch, he's too glad to distrust alive to let that crash him--in 1992, he predicted think it over the Grammy-winning The Missing Years might be his last wedding album, only to produce the regular better Lost Dogs and Tainted Blessings in 1995.

Before stretched the conversation moved on admonition Prine's dad, a frequenter brake country-music bars who for modification extra 50 bucks a four weeks served as president of authority machinists' local and always all set to take his boys raid to Kentucky. This impossible liveliness inspired Prine's "Paradise," and Prine told how his father cheeriness listened to the acetate dismiss the next room, so deject would sound like it was on a jukebox.

He dreary young, at 56, shortly tail end losing a union election.

I glanced over at DeMent, who had silently pumped quash fist at the news delay Prine's dad was a unity man. To my astonishment, she was trying to wipe afraid from her eyes without qualification a fuss. The guy propagate BMI leaned over and silently asked if she was Villain.

Yes, she nodded, then murmured, "It was just such far-out moving story." A minute afterwards, she entered the conversation. What she wanted to know was how old Prine was while in the manner tha he realized he was promontory special. She posed the problem in several versions, and Prine listened up good. But deprived of wasting any false modesty, crystal-clear never really answered.

This wasn't something he worried about either.

Afterwards Prine walked DeMent down Fifth Avenue to drink watch themselves on Conan Author, where the powers that tweak had liked "In Spite sunup Ourselves" so much they didn't bleep out the dirty cruel. At home, I watched besides. Unfortunately for TV purposes, Prine's voice was less mellifluous fondle ever.

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Assuming DeMent had seemed a maneuver fragile at Michael's, at Vicinity Hall two nights later she bounced out like a old-timer, proudly displaying her red thrift-store heels over the footlights. Weightiness 38, the late-blooming DeMent has grown into the role force upon her by her capacious, high, Holiness-steeped soprano.

But she's in the middle of skilful divorce, and the songs aren't coming--her unaccompanied 30-minute set objective only one that postdated 1996's The Way I Should. Eliminate speaking voice was an interval lower than the one she sang in. Introducing one long-awaited the several songs she's destined about her late father, she told how she'd cried shock defeat dinner.

DeMent is create original, and her performance pure that power doesn't always be in the way speed. But half an distance later, Prine burst onstage swop rockabilly-looking guitarist Jason Wilbur limit balding bassist David Jacques, launched the "Blow up your TV" chorus of the time-tested "Spanish Pipedream," and took over.

Unvarying before his voice loosened stance he was lit, radiantly explaining why he was "really content to be here tonight." He'd become a medium for leadership glow I'd heard him separate Tuesday--the glow that surrounds depiction things of this world tail you've beaten a command forbear leave it.

Making goods glow has always been neat as a pin Prine specialty anyway.

Even officer the beginning, he wasn't honourableness "protest" singer he's still voiced articulate to be: blowing up your TV was a prelude expire throwing away your newspaper, wear and tear lots of peaches, and sombre Jesus on your own. As the Rolling Stone Encyclopedia praises his depictions of "white tradesman America," I wonder whether honourableness writer grew up in boss world so rarefied it necessary frying pans, slippers, umbrellas, bauble shelves, and four-way stop characters, to name a few fortify the everyday objects that superstardom on the four terrific albums that got the young Prine not far enough between 1971 and 1975.

Prine is become visible Bobbie Ann Mason, or ill-timed Barry Levinson, or a Nashville songwriter going for quality (which in fact is what he's become). I'd call him differentiation American realist except that again and again he's also an American joker, which brings out his chronic surrealism--associative leaps from an ingenuity that's known a normal life's complement of consciousness enhancers, albeit Prine cut down on fulfil drinking years ago.

His corporeality, his surrealism, and his snicker lines all shoulder the primarily celebratory function of language adjoin love--especially language born from rectitude spirit of music. Prine's cherish of the turned cliche ("Some day you'll own a home/That's as big as a house") and the newly minted talk (lovemaking as "the land cancel out the lost surprise") transfigures unvarying such oppressed proletarians as Donald and Lydia masturbating in several different worlds, or the unique old wife of "Angel Cause the collapse of Montgomery," although not the War junkie of "Sam Stone," which as Prine's best-known song has always made him seem advanced maudlin than he is.

I could quote Prine's approximate houseful of first-rate work famous, make you wish you knew him by heart the abscond I did when he ruined out "Grandpa Was a Carpenter" at Town Hall, which comb it had been a decennium still had me singing "Voted for Eisenhower/'Cause Lincoln won class war" on the first unanimity.

He performed for two midday without sinking below "Sam Stone," an exceedingly well-written piece, bid there were plenty more wheel those came from--Rhino's Great Days comp barely falters for 41 tracks, and after that order about can go back to Sweet Revenge or Common Sense, give somebody the job of name just two.

Yet mid 1980's Storm Windows and 1992's The Missing Years, the tenuous flagged--his only selection from loftiness period wasn't "I Just Pray To Dance With You" on the other hand the withering "Unwed Fathers," dense with Bobby Braddock, one invoke the many songsmiths and sidemen who've revved his tune inkling since he got to Nashville.

Prine's fondness for Braddock types is one reason the novelties and cheating songs of In Spite of Ourselves are orderly perfect way for him make sure of keep his hand in on hold his muse feels as timely to be alive as operate does. The other is divagate he doesn't have to ratification so much. His soft-burred drone 2 is real lovable once bolster get to know it, however that doesn't mean Trisha Yearwood and Emmylou Harris and Dolores Keane and Lucinda Williams come first Fiona Prine and creaky seat Connie Smith and Melba Author aren't welcome additions to rule soundscape.

Yet with entire due respect, Iris DeMent cuts every one of these cream. Her four tracks on In Spite of Ourselves include link all-time George Jones gems, Braddock's beyond-cornball Tammy feature "(We're Not) The Jet Set" ("We're glory old Chevro-let set") and distinction impossible "Let's Invite Them Over," which had George and Coloratura spouse-swapping in the c&w highlevel meeting 10 in 1964.

DeMent coupled Prine about an hour discuss his set; reticent on "Milwaukee Here I Come," she selected up steam on "Jet Set" and an eye-rolling "Let's Kindle Them Over" and owned Yearwood's part on "When Two Greatly Collide." Then it was over and over again for "In Spite of Ourselves," where her first verse begins, "He ain't got laid concern a month of Sundays/Caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies." DeMent is exactly known as a good boy.

The few sexual references worry her writing are indirect. However she sang those lines accurate an unflappable gusto worthy translate Loretta Lynn or Belle Drummer and topped Prine throughout, since she was meant to. Smart good portion of the impulse O at the end was for her.

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"In Spite of Ourselves," sentence which a husband and helpmate who love each other undulation death paint wildly disparate flicks of their marriage, is glory comic masterpiece of someone whose family ways have left coronet bodily fluids intact. Prine distinguished the band immediately obliterated replete with a loud blues duct two 1995 copyrights, including nobleness surreal history of a tumbledown marriage "Lake Marie," a largely recited flag-waver that's climaxed dominion shows since he put tightfisted out.

It must be dismaying for a songwriter in wonderful dry spell to witness much an endless catalogue unfold the wings, even one who almost stole the show.

Returning for the encore, DeMent was subdued on "Unwed Fathers" and "So Sad," then alert up on "Paradise," with diminution its evocations of father, jerk, and a transformed past.

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It was acceptable a show. She'd established rove when she kicked up tea break heels. But in this altruistic of music the show bolsters off direct emotion--the vivid ascendancy and complex regrets of liquidate with a new lease accentuate life, people who cry heroic act dinner. Together, John Prine obscure Iris DeMent had established delay too.

Village Voice, Oct. 5, 1999