Nine years since his last album and all the world events therein - and all John Prine can manage is one little shot at the establishment.
It's a good one, though.
"Have you ever noticed when you're feeling really good, there's always a pigeon that'll come and s--- on your hood. Or you're feeling your freedom and the world's off your back. Some cowboy from Texas starts a war in Iraq."
That's from Some Humans Ain't Human, from the aforementioned new album, Fair & Square.
Playing Sunday at the Edmonton Folk Music Festival, Prine explains, "If I walked out of the house right now and got hit by a bus, I sure wouldn't want anybody to think I was a Republican. I figure I'd make it clear."
Prine shied away from writing protest songs "mainly because it was either that I couldn't find the humour in it, or most things were so trivial that they passed by in an instant. You've got to be careful when you write any kind of protest song, because it might be gone before you get it recorded."
This particular protest song - the only one on the album - is mild as protest songs go, but it still had to come out. Prine says, "I'd just about had it with George Bush. I thought he'd be gone by now. But he ain't." Then later, "He's no good. He's got to go."
Welcome back to the folk fest, John.
As for the nine-year recording "hiatus," the 58-year-old folk legend says it took him a while to figure out the reason. A successful battle with throat cancer laid him up for 15 months, but there are still almost eight years unaccounted for. The reason? He became a dad - and therefore time just flew by.
Says he, "I got two boys, nine and 10 years old, that were born while I was on the road with the Lost Dogs Tour last time. They changed everything - how early I get up in the morning, what time I go to bed, how I approach getting ready to do a record. It's like I've got to make an appointment with myself in order to go write a song. I didn't really put the whole thing together until I finally got done with the record and I started doing interviews and I realized it was nine years. I thought, what the heck would take so long? And that's exactly how old the boys are.
"It's the best thing in the world. It's also the first time I had to shift gears. Usually I just go about my merry way and a song would come along at two in the morning and I'd go, great. I'd wait until I got 10 or 11 of those and then go make a record. But I can't depend on that anymore. I have to try to write a song - tomorrow. On cue. I never had to do that before. I never knew how hard it was."
It's unlikely any fan would notice. Prine continues to be a storyteller of the highest calibre. The circumstances of his tales are simple, personal. His characters are vivid and easily recognizable. It's as if he's writing novels. Beyond any agenda, "protest songs" or not, his tunes end up being wry little slices of life anyone can relate to. Other Side of Town, also from the new record, speaks to the battle of the sexes so powerfully that Prine claims that at a certain point in its performance, he can hear the sound of 1,000 elbows poking 1,000 men in the ribs at the same time. Probably right about here: "My body's in this room with you just catching hell while my soul is drinking beer down the road a spell ... when you get done talking I'll come back downstairs and assume the body of the person you presume who cares." Laugh. Oof.
There is plenty of similar material on Fair & Square, effortless brilliance from top to bottom.
What's his secret?
"I wish I knew," he laughs. "I'd move there.
"I guess it's that I'm not looking to be different when I sit down to write. I want to be as different as everyday life looks to me. I happen to think that everyday, normal life is pretty goofy. People do some really goofy stuff every day. If I can isolate an incident like that and talk about it in a song, usually you get something that's very entertaining."
It helps to not take himself too seriously, he adds.
"It might be one of the best traits I've got. It's saved me more times than not."
