Guitarist Jason Wilbur played on stage with John Prine for 1999’s  Live from Sessions at West 54th

One of the most celebrated singer/songwriters of his generation, John Prine was a master storyteller whose work was often witty and always heartfelt, frequently offering a sly but sincere reflection of his Midwestern roots, writing about the lives of ordinary people in a remarkable and perceptive way.

Widely cited as one of the most influential songwriters of his generation, Prine was known for his signature blend of humorous lyrics about love, life, and current events, often with elements of social commentary and satire, as well as sweet songs and melancholy ballads.

John Prine’s first record, simply titled John Prine (Atlantic, 1971), featured a photograph of the slightly impatient-looking young singer-songwriter seated on a bale of hay, hands cradled in his lap, with his guitar standing upright nearby.

The austerity of the image was a good reflection on the album’s contents: a baker’s dozen songs clocking in at about 43 minutes, performed mostly on acoustic guitar with a spare backing combo, delivered in a straightforward nasal drawl, with titles like Sam Stone, Donald and Lydia, Hello in There, Illegal Smile, and Souvenirs.

Beneath the casual simplicity of the presentation lies a treasure trove of lyrical beauty: detailed portraits of despair and loneliness, interspersed with witty cultural commentary about dimestore patriotism, back-to-nature movements, and the justice system’s obsession with people’s “illegal smiles.”

That first record wasn’t a big seller.

It peaked at #156 in the Billboard charts in 1972, a year after its initial release. But that small splash had big ripples down through the years. John Prine not only set the tone for his half-century career, it influenced several generations of American singer-songwriters working in the rock, country and folk traditions.

1971 was a year of disaffection and ennui. The Beatles had broken up, the hippie dream was over, four kids were shot in Ohio by National Guardsmen and you had Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young singing a protest song that was powerful at the time but who wants to listen now? Prine’s eyeglass was focused on all of the same things but his was an ironic, detached P.O.V. that remains vital and relevant.

The record is of that time but it is somehow of this time too, though Prine’s delivery and from where in his throat he’s singing obviously owes something to Dylan.

All through the 1970s Cathy and I would attend annually at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre on Georgia Street with a pack audience gathered to appreciate John Prine.

John Prine on stage and singing with Iris DeMent (who we will write about another day)

Some artists are one hit wonders and one album wonders. Not Prine. He kept doing it and gathering up new fans right until the end, even when sickness made a physical mess of him.

John Prine died on Tuesday, April 20, 2020 of severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-Cov-2), the pandemic coronavirus that caused COVID-19.