I don’t remember the first time I heard John Prine. Wish I did but I can’t pinpoint it, like I can for The Beatles on Ed Sullivan in 1964, or hearing Dylan a few years later thanks to my late sister Cherise who was playing one of his albums in another room.
In the early 70s some of the “New Dylan” types began to emerge – Loudon Wainwright III, Springsteen (before he exploded), Steve Forbert, Elliott Murphy. Anybody who was smart with a rough edged sound to them and/or the ability to write meaningful lyrics were inevitably compared to Dylan. It’s never stopped. Later on there was Dan Bern, Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes), Jake Bugg and, well, take your pick from somebody out there who is currently being compared to Dylan.
And then there was John Prine.
Prine’s self-titled debut released in 1971 is a folk masterpiece. The first song is Illegal Smile. It’s followed, in order, by Spanish Pipedream (“She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol/And I was just a soldier on my to Montreal”) , Hello In There, Sam Stone and Paradise. Among the cuts on Side Two is Angel From Montgomery.
It was an instant classic. Prine was 25 years old when it was released but younger still when he wrote and first performed the songs in public. Like Dylan, he had the world-weariness in his voice that seemed heavily lived in and more befitting an artist who had been around for decades.
This new Dylan passed the audition.
As Prine’s career took off I kept waiting for the notice that he’d play Montreal. Maybe via a small ad in The Gazette which is how I usually discovered a non-rock concert that was about to hit our city (Donald K Donald used to regularly announce major shows himself on CHOM). But there was nothing through the rest of the 70s. The 80s weren’t any better. I had to go to the Mariposa Folk Festival in Toronto to finally see him, in the very late 80s or early 90s. That’s where I also first saw Lucinda Williams. It was a thrilling set by Prine, especially so outdoors on a small back stage in a beautiful setting shaded by trees as my wife and I and a couple of friends sat on a small hill on one of the islands off the downtown waterfront.
But still we waited in Montreal through the rest of the 90s. And still no John Prine concert. In the latter stages of the decade I started to play the music of Jimmy Lafave on my radio show. It was Ted Blackman who tipped me off, as he often did, to the wondrous, soulful sound of Lafave’s voice. The fact that he covered Dylan songs unlike anybody before him greatly added to my interest. At the same time, a Montreal criminal lawyer and music junkie named Lloyd Fischler had also been hooked on Lafave and was searching for ways to see him live. The closest Lafave got to Montreal was at an out of the way mountain locale in the middle of Vermont. So that’s where Lloyd went and that was the beginning of Billy Bob Productions.
Following several successful concerts featuring Jimmy and other under-the-Montreal-radar artists (Alejandro Escovedo, Fred Eaglesmith, Willie P. Bennett, Tom Russell, Chris Whitley, Chris Smither, Eric Andersen, Steve Forbert, Odetta, Stacey Earle, Melissa Ferrick and many others) Lloyd – who did all the heavy lifting back then while I got the word out – was approached by a rep from Gillette Entertainment to produce a show by an up and coming Canadian songwriter named Ron Sexsmith. The overflow crowd of close to 200 in the small lower Crescent Street basement room called Club Zone (later Club One) was a bit of a fiasco noise wise but attracted the attention of music types outside of our growing audience of Billy Bob regulars.
In June of 1999 famed singer-songwriter Jesse Winchester ended about a decade of seclusion in the Eastern Townships when he released “Gentleman of Leisure”. He was planning to hit the road to support it and we hooked up with Jesse to produce our first major show. It was a bitterly cold mid-January night in 2000 when Jesse and opener Loudon Wainwright III packed Spectrum de Montreal, which also happened to be my all-time favourite music venue.
Another noted recluse who should have been able to conquer the world with his guitar was also paying attention. After years of bad experiences in the music business, Frank Marino was itching for a fresh start. He had a batch of incredible new songs but needed to get out front of a scheduled August release of Eye of the Storm. He wanted to play and put the word out (possibly through Terry Haig) that he’d like us to be involved. So we returned to the Spectrum and once again packed it as we presented the long awaited return of Frank Marino & Mahogany Rush. The opener was a talented Canadian singer-songwriter we took a liking to named Rob Lutes.
Meanwhile, John Prine was moving closer. He was part of the Land Mine Benefit concert series with Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Nanci Griffith, Mary Chapin Carpenter and Bruce Cockburn that played the National Arts Centre in Ottawa. It was a Friday night in early December 2000. Rubin Fogel was one of the promoters. Ted Blackman had managed to secure a couple of tickets so I drove up with Ted. Among the first people we saw after picking up our tickets at will call was Rubin. I couldn’t resist asking him why I had to visit Ottawa or Toronto to see not only John Prine but most of the other artists as well. I adore Rubin but his response rankled me. He said he wouldn’t be able to attract a big enough crowd out in Montreal. A few moments later I ran into Lloyd and we both shrugged about having to drive nearly two hours to see some of our favourite artists.
The show was spectacular. Duh. I remember being especially impressed by Cockburn’s guitar work. Ted and I had seats in front of Lloyd Axworthy and Vermont Senator Patrick Leahy. We got to chat a bit after the show before we headed to the parking lot and the drive back home, which took a lot longer than normal after Ted misjudged how far we would make it with his gas tank on empty. But that’s another story.
Two nights later I was back at it, with Lloyd and another friend, a legendary Montreal music maven known as Kaz, as we headed south to Burlington, Vermont for the same concert. We spent a lot of time in the car talking about Prine and Emmylou in particular but also Steve Earle who by then had gone three years on the road bypassing Montreal (He wouldn’t return until he sold out Club Soda in 2005. We tried to book him, getting as far as speaking to his then-manager Dan Gillis on stage immediately following an Earle & The Dukes gig at the Hard Rock in Boston).
A short time after returning to Montreal, Lloyd got in touch with Prine’s people. Meanwhile, every piece of anecdotal evidence suggested to me that a John Prine concert in Montreal would be an event. Every musician I knew said they’d be there in a heartbeat. I canvassed music fans at the bar at Hurley’s. Every get together with friends didn’t end until I mentioned a potential Prine date. I was feeling optimistic. Until Lloyd mentioned Prine’s asking price. It was too much, even for our financially savvy partner Gary Silverman. But Lloyd persisted. We wanted a Spectrum show but by then Prine had grown out of the club circuit and was playing mostly theatres. But Lloyd developed a good rapport with Prine’s manager and co-founder of the Oh Boy record label – Al Bunetta. Before too long a deal had been struck.
Still, there was one other Montrealer I wanted to hear from on why nobody had previously invited Prine to play our city. So I invited Donald K Donald to join us for a sushi lunch at Kashima on Greene Avenue (“I think Donald ordered 50 dynamite rolls for himself”, quipped Gary). We had a general discussion about the challenges of promoting music in Montreal. The do’s and don’ts according to Donald. We mostly listened. But during the dessert of ice cream and green tea I told him of our plans for Prine. “English singer-songwriter who has never been here?” offered Donald in between scoops. “You’ll be lucky to sell 150 tickets.”
We loved and respected Donald. But we thought he was wrong.
John Prine agreed to dramatically slash his usual appearance fee and play in a smaller venue in return for the experience of a true Montreal weekend with his crew, including a genuine French meal, that perhaps would conclude with a fishing trip up north. This wasn’t the music business as usual.
Lloyd fondly recalls, “Al made a lot concessions to make the show work. I told him we were all about music not money. I went through all the numbers of all the shows we had done and how we had barely broken even. He got it. He appreciated the total transparency and honesty. John clearly wanted to do the show – just like he wanted to play Paris before he died.”
The concert was set for the Spectrum on Friday August 24, 2001. Lloyd arranged for Tom Russell and his guitar slinging sideman Andrew Hardin to open. Reaction was strong and sales were brisk. There was pure joy among the many musicians I hung with. Thankfully, there were very few ticket requests.
Prine and Bunetta arrived at the airport the day before the show. John’s band drove in separately to meet us for dinner. Before heading to the airport with Lloyd I had to tape an episode of The Expos This Week at Olympic Stadium. It was the off season compliment to the hugely successful The Habs This Week television show I hosted during hockey season every Saturday night at 6:30. The show was an independent production put together by Tom Aziz who also directed and edited. CTV Montreal paid Tom and sold the commercials. We destroyed the Hockey Night in Canada pre-game show in the same time slot by a margin of 10-1. But, for a variety of reasons, things were getting tense between Tom and myself. As it turned out, John Prine’s arrival in Montreal signalled my departure from the show.
With the San Fransisco Giants in town, Tom had set up an interview with their veteran firstbaseman and former Expo Andres Galarraga. (A few months later The Big Cat would return to play for the Expos at age 41.) Tom said Galarraga had agreed to the interview at about 12:45 PM, after we had completed taping for the rest of the show including a regular feature on the pitcher’s mound with Bill Lee. That would give me plenty of time to hop into Lloyd’s car outside The Big O at about 1:45 PM to then head to the airport and get ready for our dinner. But, it was also several hours away from visiting batting practice. Galarraga is a sweet guy but I wondered if something had been lost in the translation for him to agree to show up so early. Perhaps he thought we’d meet him at the team’s downtown hotel? Sure enough, it was well past the scheduled interview and I started to get antsy. I knew Lloyd would be waiting outside and we didn’t have much wiggle room time wise. At about 1:30 I realized that unless Galarraga emerged from the tunnel next to the dugout in the next five minutes I was going to have to leave. I searched out my friend Terry Haig, who was working the Expos radio broadcasts alongside Elliott Price on the brand new all-sports radio station The Team 990 (where I was hosting the morning show with Blackman, Cathy Newton and Shaun Starr). Terry was doing prep work/interviews for the pre-game show. I asked him if he’d be able to talk to Galarraga for me. Without hesitation he agreed. I then found Tom who was pacing in front of the two chairs that had been set up and for the third time mentioned that I was going to have to leave. It was almost two o’clock. “He’s on his way” said Tom. But so was I. As I walked trough the tunnel that headed to the Expos clubhouse and elevators, Tom yelled, “You’re making a big mistake!”. (I’ve never mentioned this publicly and I won’t go further at this point, for now, but with some earlier issues that existed and Tom’s eventual reaction to me leaving the stadium -even later than I told him I had to – snapped the already shaky trust factor I had with him. When he suspended me for the following week’s show I knew I couldn’t keep working for him. He and the CTV types that he answered to thought I’d return for the start of the next hockey season – they even asked Blackman to speak to me about “burning bridges” but Ted knew me too well. I listened and told him I was done with the show. Brian Wilde and Randy Tieman filled my spot. Eventually, the show vanished, replaced by an in-house production hosted by Ron Reusch. It was called Sports Night 360. It was big of Ron and producer Peter Schiavi to invite me on as a regular panelist through the years. I left a chunk of money on the table but with my conscience and principle intact. I might have kissed a promising television career goodbye but I’ve always been a radio guy at heart.)
Rolling from the east end to the airport with Lloyd I was filled with peaceful resignation. I had done the television thing. It didn’t mean nearly as much to me as radio or music. Lloyd’s CD player cranked out Prine’s Grammy-winning Missing Years from 10 years earlier. It was his first album after a frightful bout with cancer that ate a chunk out of the right side of his neck. The only thoughts on my mind as we hit the highway was just how great the weekend was going to be.
I don’t remember much about the airport or the drive back downtown other than some general conversation about Montreal and that ticket sales were great. We had all agreed to meet for dinner at about 7, arranged by Lloyd at one of North America’s finest French spots – Le Mas des Oliviers on Bishop Street (It sadly closed in September 2016). John’s band – guitarist Jason Wilber and bassist Dave Jacques (pronounced Jakes) and road manager Mitchell Drosin, would also be meeting us. Lloyd recalls that once everybody was seated they all insisted on ordering onion soup and Coquilles Saint-Jacques. I don’t remember what I had for dinner. But I do remember how much I enjoyed it, thanks to a few bottles of fine wine and great conversation. John shared the same kind of respect and love we had for some of the greats like Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Joni Mitchell and Lucinda Williams. He told tales of his early days in Chicago and his great friendship with the late Steve Goodman. That’s how he met Al Bunetta who had been managing Goodman. Al was a music encyclopedia. We swapped some stories of some good and bad gigs through the years. When the other Mitch realized that Lloyd, Gary and myself had full time jobs and were actually in the music business for the music and not the business, he good naturedly referred to us as the “three idiots”. He’d return to that phrase a few times over the next couple of days.
As the wonderful couple of hours wrapped up, John joined me as I headed out the door. We had been seated at opposite ends of the table so we hadn’t had any one on one time. The plan was to head to Hurley’s for a couple of nightcaps. As we crossed Bishop to get to the east side, somebody from the west side of the street shouted, “Hey Mitch! Great show!”. Prine did a double take, checking to see if his own Mitch was behind us. Turning back towards me, he said “You’re kind of a somebody around here, huh?” I felt a great source of pride. Not sure how often that might have happened to John Prine – walking the streets with somebody and it’s the other guy who gets recognized. If by chance you’re reading this and you’re the dude who shouted out the love, thanks!
When we got to the corner of Saint Catherine and Crescent, I motioned down the street to Hurley’s. I had a secret plan to liquor John up just a wee bit to see if he’d get on stage for a song or two with a couple of the locals. I pressed him a bit.
“It’s a great Irish Pub. One of the best in the country. I know you love the pubs”
“I’m sure it is”, he said while shaking his head. “But I love them too much. I got a big show to do tomorrow and I think the promoters are expecting something special. Thanks again for a great night. Is there anything you’d like to hear tomorrow?”
I thought about some of his lesser known songs and said “Yeah, Bad Boy.” It had been a staple on my radio show for awhile, usually after I had too much fun the night before.
John nodded. “Will you be at soundcheck?” When I answered, “Oh yeah.” He said “Thanks again. Have a good night. Keep an eye on Al.”
I watched him limp away (he had recently had hip replacement surgery) towards his hotel a few blocks away while I headed to the Pub where Lloyd, Gary and Al Bunetta were waiting at the entrance. Al was looking for a loose joint to smoke. I said I’d ask around inside but pointed back up the street and suggested he’d likely find one if he asked enough people. He said he’d meet us inside but we didn’t see him again until the next night.
On the strong bond between the street wise Bunetta and Prine, Lloyd recalls, “Upon reflection two people couldn’t be more different than Al and John. Perhaps that’s why Oh Boy Records was such a success. Al was obviously very loyal. He insisted that we promote Todd Snider, who has carried on Prine’s musical and lyrical tradition.” (I loved Todd Snider too. Also played a lot of his songs on my show, especially in the late 90s. He’s a hippie version of Prine. So a few weeks later, after playing a Saturday night gig in Toronto, we agreed to have Todd play for us at Club Zone. But it was Academy Awards night. We might have had 12 people in the audience. But it could have been 12 hundred the way Todd ripped through a couple of ferocious sets augmented by several Prine-like introductions/stories leading into some of the songs. I recall spending even more time with him post-show at the bar. Back when you could light up inside.)
The next day I headed to the Spectrum for sound check. I love sound check. Almost nobody around and a chance to experience some great songs in a totally relaxed setting before the intensity of the hands-on production of the real show kicks in. Montreal Calling last December was the first time I missed soundcheck at one of our major shows (I never thought it would be so difficult to get a small wad of U.S. cash from a bank on a Friday afternoon). So Prine is playing some of his signature songs in the empty Spectrum. I was walking around the back part of the main floor before deciding to head up to the balcony to get a sense of what the night would sound like from there without a drummer on stage. It sounded beautiful. Especially when John started singing
I been a bad boy
I been long gone
I’m never out there
I never phone home
I never gave you not one little clue where I’d been
I’ve been a bad boy again
I looked around from my seat in the front row to check if what was going on was registering to the bar and floor staff that were getting ready. I felt like yelling, “He’s playing this for me!” You can find it on Prine’s 1986 album German Afternoons. It sure was shaping up as the kind of weekend I was hoping for after I left Olympic Stadium the day before. The rest of the late afternoon and early evening is barely even a blur.
Tom Russell is another favourite musician of ours. He came to us highly recommended by the late Jimmy Lafave. Many of Russell’s songs have a cinematic quality to them. They’re smart whether based on fact or fiction. He’s a master story teller in song and on stage. In introducing Russell, Lloyd made reference to William Faulkner and the burgeoning Americana movement. After one song I sprinted to the lobby box office/area to take care of somebody on the guest list and I was met by a giddy Gary Silverman who pointed to the sidewalk outside where a couple of very recognizable ticket brokers were waving a couple of pairs around.
After guiding my guests to their table I headed towards our own table of 6-8 about a third of the way up the floor to the left facing the stage. I couldn’t see any empty chairs. Then Mitch Drosin spotted me and yelled something about three idiots. But he was really impressed with Russell whom he had never seen live. “This guy’s really good. He sounds great and has real presence.” Meanwhile, backstage, as Lloyd remembers, “Al was freaking about how good Tom and Andrew were. He asked me why I hadn’t told him. He said you gotta get them off stage lol. He was worried about John’s voice. And he knew that John wanted to play with them.”
Russell was so good he earned something few openers do – an encore. “I was going to play a Leonard Cohen song,” Tom said to the crowd but sensing more energy in the room he played the up tempo Haley’s Comet that he co-wrote with Dave Alvin. All about the sad tale of early rock and roll pioneer Bill Haley. It brought the house down.
I reached out to Tom via e-mail in early April.
“My memories of John are many. We sang together every night on tour. We were going to write a song together called “When Chimpanzee’s go bad” but never finished it. I always tried to give him my records and he said “Tom, I always BUY your records.” I got to meet Bonnie Raitt, Dwight Yoakam and a dozen other greats while on tour with John. He had a deep sense of humour anchored in a love for common humanity. His songs will go the distance.”
Fortunately I can still hear that great opening set, and all of Prine’s and many others from that era thanks to Steve Goldstein. Steve started popping up as a regular at our smaller shows, sitting by the soundboard taping them all. He looked like a young Albert Grossman. But like us, he did it for the love of music not money. I contacted Steve after John passed away. Even though he couldn’t remember the concert (“In those days I would attend at least two and sometimes as many as five shows a week. Nearly 20 years later it’s all a blend and blur.”), he could tell where he set up in the Spectrum to record it. It was likely from the same spot I had heard Prine during soundcheck.
“From the bowl-shaped sound of the crowd singing singing along during ‘Illegal Smile’ clearly I was in my favourite recording position – front and centre in the balcony.”
Steve is an old school tape trader.
“I owned and ran a hardware store/industrial supply house named Quincaillaire Harsupco (on St. Laurent north of Jarry Park). I was at it for 51 years and still loving what I was doing when I received, in accordance with my lease, six months notice to vacate the place by the end of March as the owner intends to demolish the building. So on March 27 i locked the shop up for the last time and I am now retired. It kind of worked out well considering the present situation. I stay within my rooms and work on my recorded music library, exiting only for groceries and the occasional walk. What I do is transfer my recording from the recorded medium (in this case DAT) to my desktop’s hard drive. Then I edit and master it and cut tracks. When I’m happy with the result i post it here: http://www.dimeadozen.org/index.php DIME is a free and highly ethical music torrent site. They have about 275 of my recordings on their tracker and something like 2,000 posted over the years.”
So again, thanks to Steve for allowing me to relive the musical portion of the night of August 24, 2001. I introduced John from the stage.
“We all enjoyed a fine French meal last night. They saw some fine French scenery today. And they wanted to be introduced in Montreal en francais. So that’s why I’m here (there is audible laughter from up front and somebody adding, “Yeah, right.”) So, maintenant, pour le premier fois a Montreal, avec des amis, le President du Oh Boy Records, Bienvenu a Montreal Monsieur John Prine!”
It was a raucous welcome.
“Thanks for waiting so long!” said John after leading off with ‘Spanish Pipedream’. “It took me a long time to get here – 30 years. That means I’ll be staying for awhile.” he said with a big grin. He wasn’t wrong. He played for well over two hours. The well lubricated crowd was joyful and respectful (except for one table near us who were yakking and laughing during the first minute or so of ‘Sam Stone’ before they were shushed into silence).
The newest convert to Prine among us was Gary Silverman.
“Obviously I knew the name John Prine because he wrote Angel From Montgomery but I really became a fan that night. I remember at dinner the night before his choice of words was unique. He just spoke with purpose. And then the night of the show – this was a singer-songwriter whose words meant something. I must have roamed the room that night but towards the end I was sitting near the front and I heard ‘Lake Marie’ for the first time. From that moment on I went back and discovered his full catalogue and finally felt worthy enough to call myself a fan.”
When i tried to get Jason Wilber, who was his usual brilliant self on electric guitar, mandolin and dobro, to reach back into his memory bank, he understandably couldn’t.
“I’m sorry I don’t really have anything to share Mitch. My mind is just kind of overwhelmed right now. Thank you for reaching out. Much appreciated.”
From my vantage point it seemed like every musician I knew was there. A few Montreal actors too, including Roy Dupuis. It was simply magic. Even better than we could have anticipated. We even made a little money.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had that many people thank me for something on the same night. But as much as I enjoyed the crowd reaction on their way out I wanted to head backstage to see John and the musicians before they split. As i got into the dressing room, John was deep into separate plates of spaghetti and meatballs and a medium pepperoni pizza from the Greek restaurant that used to be next door to the Spectrum.
“Thank you so much John. You guys were so great.”
In between bites he said “I’m sorry I didn’t play the song you asked for. It’s not in my set anymore. But I did play it at soundcheck.”
John Prine set list at Montreal Spectrum August 24, 2001:
- Spanish Pipedream
- Six O’clock News
- Souvenirs
- Fish and Whistle
- Grandpa Was A Carpenter
- Far From Me
- All The Best
- Angel From Montgomery
- You Got Gold
- Dear Abby
- Donald and Lydia
- Let’s Talk Dirty in Hawaiian
- That’s The Way The Word Goes Round
- In Spite of Ourselves
- The Other Side of Town
- Sam Stone
- Bear Creek Blues
- Ain’t Hurtin’ Nobody
- Great Rain
- The Sins of Memphisto
- Storm Windows
- Hello in There
- Lake Marie
- (Encore) Sabu Visits The Twin Cities Alone
- Please Don’t Bury Me
- Illegal Smile
- (2nd Encore) Paradise (w/Tom Russell and Andrew Hardin)
It was one of the best nights of my life. But we didn’t have much time to bask in it as we prepped for the return of Frank Marino & Mahogany Rush at Club Soda a week later. That was going to be followed up by another visit by Jimmy Lafave in mid-September. And then a unique Outremont double bill on September 25 featuring Jesse Winchester and Guy Clark. Then the planes hit. Jimmy was stopped at the border and had to turn around. We did have the pleasure of witnessing Jesse & Guy but instead of a packed theatre the balcony was empty. The world would never be the same.
About two years after his Montreal debut, John Prine was back to play Metropolis. It was part of an Eastern Canadian tour promoted by Gillette Entertainment (later Evenko). Gary couldn’t make it but I attended with Lloyd. As we searched for a spot at a table on the floor, we were approached by a man shouting, “Where’s the other idiot?” It was Mitch Drosin. He told us the tour through the Maritimes was a complete sell out. But the Metropolis gig (capacity 2,300) was not. Far from it. So I couldn’t resist.
“You should have let the three idiots take care of this one.”
Mitch handed us backstage passes. We thanked him and told him we’d see everybody after the show. It was a much different vibe. Quieter for sure. Perhaps remembering that noisy table during ‘Sam Stone’, Prine’s camp made sure to cut off alcohol sales just before his set.
When we hit the dressing room after the concert, John’s face lit up. He greeted us like long lost friends. So did Jason and Dave. We stayed for about 30 minutes. I helped a dad and his teenage daughter sneak in to say hello as well. Unfortunately we have no pictures from the Spectrum show, our dinner the night before nor from Metropolis two years later. That’s one of the reasons I make sure every one of our shows is photographed. But if anyone reading this has a pic or two to share, please do.
As the years went by we did less and less shows. Matt Large, Rebecca Anderson and Hello Darlin’ Productions picked up some of the artists we promoted including Tom Russell. We continued to promote the odd Chris Smither, Alejandro Escovedo and Dan Bern show but Lloyd had grown weary of the grind while continuing his real job as a criminal lawyer. Then we threw a party/wake for Bob Dylan’s 75th birthday and a tribute to Lloyd’s best friend Andy Besner (Billy Bob) who had recently passed away. It was another great night featuring so many terrific local musicians that I decided to revive the company. Since then we’ve done several major tribute shows (The Last Waltz 40th, Southern Soul and Rock ‘n Roll Revue/Montreal Calling) with another one planned to celebrate Dyan’s 80th. We can only hope.
I never did get to see John Prine again. A year ago, i attended the New Orleans Jazz Festival for the first time. Lloyd had been talking it up to me for years and it was the scheduled appearance of Prine (not the Rolling Stones) that sold me. But when we arrived in New Orleans we got the bad news that John, like the Stones, had to cancel for health reasons.
New Orleans during Jazz Fest was quite the experience and I very much look forward to attending again. But as soon as John was healthy enough to hit the road again I kept checking his site for tour dates that might get him close enough to Montreal. Sure enough, he had an Ottawa concert scheduled at the National Arts Centre for this July 7. It was being promoted by Rubin Fogel.
Like so many heartbroken Prine fans, I’ve tried to get over his death through his music. (I started writing this in early April. Today is May 28, 2020) Then I came across a piece in Rolling Stone where his wife Fiona outlined one of John’s last great nights on stage and it brought August 24, 2001 completely back into focus.
It was like deja vu all over again.
John Prine had never been invited to play Paris. Mitch Drosin booked him into a 500 seat club.The show was the night before Valentine’s Day. Prine, in serious discomfort because of a collapsed hip, had to sing while sitting in a chair. But by all accounts he was beyond giddy.
Fiona Prine told Rolling Stone that “(John) always loved that Parisians treated him with disdain, you know? He just loved the people and the food and the idea that he couldn’t understand a word they were saying. He didn’t have much of an ego…He might as well have danced off the stage. He was so proud he did that show, and it was sold out and they loved him. It felt like a victory lap.”
