I first became exposed to John Prine because of the press that accompanied Fair & Square's release. Despite that, I started with the earliest records & didn't really get into this one until a bit later. Unlike some other Prine albums, which endeared themselves to me immediately, this one took a while to sink in. When it did, it happened song by song. Because this is not an album buoyed by the enthusiasm of youth, because it's made by an elder reflecting on a lifetime of love & loss, triumph & tragedy, regret & acceptance, each song revealed itself to me in its own time.
The 1st song to get under my skin was "Long Monday," which immediately became one of my favorite Prine songs. Over a banjo-style circular picked guitar figure & gentle accordion, Prine sings about a lover who can only see his beloved on the weekends. He uses the symbol of car windows (a favorite symbol of his, see also "Summer's End") to frame a portrait of serene, cozy closeness & the vulnerability that comes with it: "The radio's on, the window's rolled up & my mind's rolled down." The next song that caught my ear was album opener "Glory of True Love," with its extravagant layers of guitars, accordion & mandolin. It's the kind of guileless song that I liked despite its cheesiness as a too-cool young adult; now I like it because of how unaffected it is.
The next song that clicked for me was "Crazy as a Loon," with its downhome country melody & corresponding steel guitar. Prine's speaker tries his luck in 3 American cities synonymous with success in show business: Hollywood, Nashville & New York. He soon realizes that all those cities do is "make you crazy," & he finds his peace in the north woods fishing. Another song about connecting with nature, although more obliquely, is "Taking a Walk." It wasn't until 2016 that the song finally sunk in for me: John encounters a series of sensitive & awkward social situations, with the pounding piano & tremolo mandolin enhancing the suspenseful ascending progression of the pre-chorus, before the tension is released by...taking a walk. Just going outside. Watching the birds. We all find coping strategies that work for us, & here John is graciously sharing one of his. On that same 2016 deep dive, I came to appreciate "The Moon Is Down" as well. One of the simplest Prine songs, it discusses what happens after the moon (referred to with she pronouns) disappears. We are assured that "the sun will be fine/It'll shine all the time" but there is an emptiness, a profound loss to be read between the lines. These are just some highlights of the album--I won't even touch on the brilliant Blaze Foley cover (that changes the line "Try to hide my sorrow from the people I meet" to "Sing this song for the people I meet," which is a minor change that eloquently limns the difference between Foley & Prine), or the song that's just plain about how much he loves his wife.
Although Prine's trademark homespun wit is still present, this isn't an album of good humor. It's an album full of hard-won lessons, & the easy pace with which it won me over is a testament to the honesty of its perspective. Some records grab you immediately, & some play the long game. I'm glad I kept this one around to pull out every few months, because it's a beautiful little testament & every bit as good as anything he ever did.
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