Oysters, music & books (alexander_panin) wrote,
Oysters, music & books

John Prine — John Prine (1971) @@@@@

Всегда довольно интересно слушать дебютные альбомы. Конечно, не каких-нибудь девочек, которых привели в студию, там всучили материал и велели петь, а серьёзных авторов-исполнителей, вынужденных с трудом пробиваться к славе. Контракта ни с кем нет, индустрия не требует выпускать по альбому в год, есть время на оттачивание мастерства и собственных сочинений. Вот первый альбом Джона Прайна просто великолепен! Отличные мелодии, острые тексты, превосходная игра музыкантов. Что ни песня, то прямо-таки подарок. Стилистически творения Прайна близки к кантри, но в первую очередь его нужно классифицировать как сингера-сонграйтера. С выходом этого диска стало понятно, что американская музыка получила ещё одного большого исполнителя в этом жанре.

Sam Stone
©John Prine

Sam Stone came home,
To his wife and family
After serving in the conflict overseas.
And the time that he served,
Had shattered all his nerves,
And left a little shrapnel in his knee.
But the morphine eased the pain,
And the grass grew round his brain,
And gave him all the confidence he lacked,
With a Purple Heart and a monkey on his back.

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes,
Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose.
Little pitchers have big ears,
Don't stop to count the years,
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios.

Sam Stone's welcome home
Didn't last too long.
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime.
And the gold rolled through his veins
Like a thousand railroad trains,
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose,
While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes...

Repeat Chorus:

Sam Stone was alone
When he popped his last balloon
Climbing walls while sitting in a chair
Well, he played his last request
While the room smelled just like death
With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun
And there was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the G.I. Bill
For a flag draped casket on a local heroes' hill

Repeat Chorus


©John Prine

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Adrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.

Repeat Chorus:

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.

Repeat Chorus:

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.

Repeat Chorus:


Tags: country, john prine, singer/songwriter, музыка, музыкальные рецензии

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