John Prine: Bruised Orange: Song-By-Song Discussion Thread

"Well, there must be something somewhere
That makes me want to hurt myself inside"

is fairly deep reflective psychoanalysis for a song wrapped in a "country" package, isn't it?

 

So, I'm one of them thar nerds who thinks "folk" and "singer-songwriter" are different things but I accept that most just use the word "folk." Now, in the real world if I played John Prine for anyone they'd call it country. For the purposes of conversation I'd tell them he's folk. Keep it simple, after all. If they asked, "what's the difference between country and folk" I'd glibly say, "one sells, the other is folk."

This song sounds to me like "folk" trying to be "country." Maybe because you pointed out its gotten covered a lot. Maybe the song's vapidness (sorry) is what makes it marketable. For what it's worth, I paused what I'd been listening to and listened to half this song before giving up on the listless vocal and looked up the lyrics. Holy frijole.

As to Mr. Spector, maybe that's why the song has so very, very, ... very little lyric. I'm no Dalton Trumbo but I've got a notion. See, the two of them are sitting with a pad, pen, paper, and a couple cases of beer. They spitball a few lyrics and both are feeling pretty good about the direction. Spector leans over for another bottle. Light shines off his concealed pistol into Prine's eye. Maybe he's heard and remembers the legendary stories of Spector's work with Lennon, Ramones and Cohen. "Aw heck," he thinks, "maybe we ought'a wrap this up" and plays along that these lyrics are so good they don't need more. Spector disagrees. Prine thinks, "well, it's a half an enchilada and I think I'm gonna drown" then hastily jots down the line "that's the way the world goes 'round" and offers Spector another drink. Spector loves it and says they'll be rolling in royalties. Prine now realizes he's in trouble if he doesn't release the song because, well, Phil's a nutter. After a few more bottles, he's not worried. Flash forward. Then it gets covered, Prine shrugs and cashes the checks. Flash to the present: we're talking about it and all I can think is, wow, later this week this song ought'a be played live in DC.

 

How you managed to write that much about this song is .... I'm speechless! But I enjoyed it.

This is a cloyingly straight country song, meant to hear while driving down dark, rural roads with the window down on your '62 Rambler (I had one. Built like a tank. Clothes hanger for an antenna.)

 

Top drawer historical fiction. We just need that guy from that E! network show (the one with the slow motion "recreations") to come in with a voiceover, than some exposition from a foggy alley on a production stage. But I digress.

Assuming this song was composed first, we can thank our lucky stars that Prine didn't throw away the scrap of paper that had "That's the way that the world goes 'round" scribbled on it.

"Vapid" is a pretty good word for this one, IMO.

 

And a warning should be issued: Class A category Earworm. I've been humming this line non-stop!

 

Bruised Orange is a strong album, nice variety of songs and sounds, and I remember I bought it immediately upon release, unlike his previous one, Common Sense, which I held off getting for quite awhile because I thought it was overproduced.

"Fish N' Whistle" -- Originally, I didn't like the flute on this, thought it was kind of corny, but re-listening to it just now, it sounds better, almost entirely suitable, actually. I admit, I never thought of the Andy Griffith show connection, but I'd bet a million bucks JP was/is a big fan of that show, and his notion of heaven having a fishing hole that you can stroll on down to on a summer day, whistling all the while, seems right on. My own teenage workforce horror story concerned a negligent apartment dweller who dropped and shattered a big glass jug full of maple syrup on a tile floor in the front vestibule one hot summer day, and then vanished, forcing the new janitor (guess who) to quickly develop his haz-mat disposal skills without drawing blood, or drawing flies, for that matter. Clearly, JP's songs, full of "Midwestern mindtrip existentialism" (to misquote Bob Dylan) like "scrubbing parking lots" down on your knees can draw you in because you can relate to them. "We'll forgive each other...then we'll whistle and go fishin' in heaven" reminds me of two kids scrapping, and someone saying "All right you two, break it up and shake hands, and we'll all go out for ice cream..."

"There She Goes" -- Oh, boy (and I don't mean JP's record label, haha) I think we just might have another Andy Griffith show connection here;
Andy Griffith S01E18 Andy the Marriage Counselor

I love the track, though -- always reminded me of Johnny Cash's There You Go -- which is a darker song, for sure, but cut from similar cloth, I think.

 

Yes, I can. As a matter of fact, I think it would be perfect for Lucinda.

Atypically for JP, the song consists of a single sentiment, and a sad, depressing one at that, but it really stood out when I first heard it, probably because, to me, it seems to be a mantra, repeated over and over, in the mind of a someone talking only to themselves, not actually giving someone else a personal, in-your-face ultimatum. I hear it as "If he/she doesn't want my love, I know who I can give it to...yeah, that's what I'll do, I'll show her/him..." Someone trying to really convince themselves that, since they feel they're getting the cold shoulder, it's time to move on to greener pastures. (An updated, simplified Sour Grapes II, maybe.) The Spector co-writing credit always did make me wonder if I was missing something with this track, though.

And there's this...which I feel duty-bound to mention as a possible antecedent, although I don't see too much of a real comparison to the song at hand.

In the Summertime
Roger Miller
In the summertime, when all the trees and leaves are green
And the redbird sings, I'll be blue
'Cause you don't want my love

Some other time, that's what you say, when I want you
Then you laugh at me and make me cry
'Cause you don't want my love

You don't seem to care a thing about me
You'd rather live without me, than to have my arms around you
When the nights are cold and you're so all alone

In the summertime, when all the trees and leaves are green
And the redbird sings, I'll be blue
'Cause you don't want my love

Once upon a time, you used to smile and wave to me
And laugh with me, but now you don't
'Cause you don't want my love

Some other guy is takin' up all your time
Now you don't have time for me
'Cause you don't want my love

You don't seem to care a thing about me
You'd rather live without me, than to have my arms around you
When the nights are cold and you're so all alone

In the summertime, when all the trees and leaves are green
And the redbird sings, I'll be blue
'Cause you don't want my love

Roger was certainly a big influence on Prine, but I would hate to think that these lyrics, pretty much boilerplate C&W lament material, struck JP as memorable, although maybe he liked them. They were matched with a typically zany, up-tempo Miller do-wacka-do musical arrangement that actually sold quite a few records back in the '60s, though, so what do I know?

 

File Under: Random Acts of Tangential Thinking

Your '62 Rambler reminds me of a timely and ever-portentious gem by Greg Brown called "Brand New '64 Dodge." (lyrics; YouTube audio). And now I'm in a rabbit hole. Gotta listen to Brian Lehndorff's "Yellow Datsun" and may as well finish up with one more car tune, this epic road song (that I legitimately think is Prine-worthy -- except the pickled weiner bits). Anything unspiral the "If You Don't Want My Love" earworm in my head.

Spoiler: Uhhh...

I used a recipe I learned at my local deli. Not the good one, mind you. The one that's closer and cheaper.

I love turkey sandwiches. Plenty of tomato and a little lettuce on toasted rye (seeded, of course; seedless is proof of hell). Nothing special. Like the song in Nashville, "I'm Easy." How do they keep the prices down? Simple and no secret. A fine layer of turkey, two thin slices of dry pale tomato and enough lettuce to line two rabbit cages.

Also, I'm trying not to edit. Lately when I do it's like being stuck in Sgt. Pepper's inner groove on a manual turntable. Never do see any uh-ool-wahn is my maddening mantra.

More non-editing below...

Bit by bit here you loosened up some trivia long since jammed in dead earwax. I still struggle with the flute (and lots of production throughout Prine's career). It does add to the hokey pied-piper factor but I've come to like it. Maybe like a well-placed mole or a cheeky bridge of freckles.

I went on an improptu road trip yesterday and made a playlist of the few songs I have from this album (peppered with other Prine songs from that era, give or take). Because of this conversation I listened to this song a few times, sticking strictly to the studio take. On the second go round I was struck how quickly all the verses came and went in the first 1:30 or so. The song isn't short on words but at that tempo I can see why the arrangement was fleshed out as it is. To call it padding is dismissive and I don't think that's padding -- but the flute interludes and repeated bridge/chorus seem necessary in hindsight. They could have used plenty of other instruments but I think this or a fiddle would suit best. Prine simply isn't a versatile enough a guitarist to put in a solo and a studio guitarist probably wouldn't suit this song. A fiddle might be too, uh, rural. Flute is whimsical and idiosycratic, like the lyrics. I think it also adds color to an opening track where he may have wanted to signal a change, too. If (gunky) memory serves, Prine turned to Steve Goodman as producer for this album precisely for this reason and because he wasn't really pleased with how previous albums sounded -- including his debut.

So, this morning I'm setting up an Amazon Echo Dot (long story) and started messing with the radio features. Created a John Prine station on Pandora and asked my yakking hockey puck to "play John Prine." Second song in is "In Spite of Ourselves" (live 2010), which opens with the story how this Iris Dement duet was written for a movie in which he acted with Billy Bob Thornton and Andy Griffith. In this particular recording of the story (I've heard a few similar) he jokes about being related to Opie. Made me smile. Considering Prine's age and background -- not to mention the show being a long-running hit -- I have no doubt he watched and gleaned from it. I can almost imagine a parallel universe where the cast of his songs are characters in a skewed version of the Andy Griffith Show. You could call the show Big Old Goofy World.

Spoiler: Autobiographical aside

In the past I've had two adopted cats; the second, rescued from a "sick room" at the shelter, was a tiny reddish-brown tabby they'd named Manatee. First time I picked him up he was two hamsters long and walked from one outstretched hand to the other. He had giant reddish ears and wide but tentative eyes -- neither of which physical trait he ever outgrew. In hindsight I wonder if I adopted him just to be certain he was suitably named: Opie).

Like you, I never linked this song to that show. I'm glad @RayS did, though. It's a fun revisionist reading to now picture the car wash attached to Goober's station. Maybe "Fish and Whistle" is Gomer, home from the USMC, thinking back. I imagine Goober had to open the carwash to make ends meet during the gas crisis. Shame on the mayor (probably Otis) for not fixing the potholes. Even Mayberry couldn't survive the '70s disrepair. It's best not to imagine perms and bell-bottoms in town. Ah, well.

Skipping ahead and leaving this album for a moment, in the mid-nineties Prine released his second live album, Live on Tour. I'll still never forgive it for not including the great, slow-build from acoustic to electric arrangement of "Sam Stone" but a live "Lake Marie" more than compensates. Tacked onto the end of the album are a few tunes, including a cover called "If I Could." In light of the fishing as escape/reward/heaven, I think it's worth sharing here in that I do think it makes an interesting continuity over time. (lyrics here)

I ran a music store around the time Lucinda Williams' Essence came out. It had been a long break since Car Wheels so this was highly anticipated. I remember more than one customer derisively commenting how slow and repetitive the songs were -- especially one of my favorites, "Blue." Sounds like a familiar jab. That said,...

Sold. I'll give this a few listens (the first ones to clear out my early impressions). It deserves a fairer shake than I gave it. In my defense, I need(ed) to be silly. Not an easy modulation lately.

I never tied Prine to Roger Miller. This is interesting and instructive enough to add to my unaccredited home studies syllabus. Of course, having grown up in the '80s, to me Roger Miller is associated with morning TV when home sick or staying up watching TV until the national anthem played. He was that old guy in front of a badly spotlit soundstage lip syncing to old songs while song titles scrolled by until the narrator magically said, "all this can be yours for $19.99 plus shipping and handling." Then, when the ad ended you'd move onto the next in a stream of similar ads for Mario Lanza, Kate Smith, Liberace, and -- naturally -- Jim "Gomer" Neighbors. All roads lead to Mayberry and fishing. So much so that for my next road trip I'm going to Maine on a forty foot crane I can use for a fishin' pole. Already started that playlist.

</grasshopper>

 

I believe I got "Live" and "Great Days" within a few months of each other in 1993, and I got "Bruised Orange" a short time later. So the bare bones live version and the flutey studio version of "Fish and Whistle" came into my world about the same time. I guess I took them both in equally, thankfully not having one make me reticent to accept the other.

Great catch on the Andy Griffith connection. As soon as I saw the episode title I said to myself, "Why didn't >I< think of that!" Like Neil Young said, "A little Mayberry living goes a long way" (especially if you're a songwriter who specializes in folk wisdom).

"There You Go" is another fine catch. I could see that number influencing Prine. Happened to listen to the Asheville '84 album yesterday, and before "Sam Stone", Prine tells the story and being asked over to Johnny's house to teach him "Sam Stone" so Johnny could cover it.

 

Day 4, Track 4

"That's the Way That the World Goes 'Round"

From the "Great Days" booklet:

It was a fairly sad song at the time I wrote it. It was only when I started playing it that I realized the song was really uplifting. Actually, I think I was kind of fed up with a lot of cynicism that I saw in people, even myself at the time. I wanted to find a way to get back to a better world, more childlike. I immediately went back and started writing from a child's perspective. I guess I do that just to get some sort of grasp on things when they get a little too crazy.

An excerpt from the "Illegal Smile" entry in the same booklet, that seems relevant to me:
"It was more about, how ever since I was a child, I've had this view of the world where I would find myself smiling at stuff nobody else was smiling at." (And Bob Weir can tell you that such behavior may lead to The Heat busting you for smiling on a cloudy day.)

And in regards to rejecting cynicism, I can't help but think of this refrain:

"You have no complaint,
You are what you are, and you ain't what you ain't.
So listen up buster, and listen up good,
Stop wishing for hard luck and knocking on wood."
------------------------------------------------------------

"That's the Way That the World Goes 'Round"

I know a guy that's got a lot to lose.
He's a pretty nice fellow but he's kind of confused.
He's got muscles in his head that ain't never been used.
Thinks he own half of this town.

Starts drinking heavy, gets a big red nose.
Beats his old lady with a rubber hose,
Then he takes her out to dinner and buys her new clothes.
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

That's the way that the world goes 'round.
You're up one day and the next you're down.
It's half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown.
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

I was sitting in the bathtub counting my toes,
When the radiator broke, water all froze.
I got stuck in the ice without my clothes,
Naked as the eyes of a clown.
I was crying ice cubes hoping I'd croak,
When the sun come through the window, the ice all broke.
I stood up and laughed thought it was a joke
That's the way that the world goes 'round.



I'll leave the enchilada story for the next fella who posts.

 

I think Prine was right the first time, with this thought. I have to say that line about the woman being beaten with a rubber hose doesn't seem uplifting at all. And the thought of couples sitting in a barroom, smiling and chuckling at that line, maybe while squeezing their girlfriend/wife's leg....see? I'm not that bad?, well, it depresses me.

And it's because of that line, and the way it's blown off as simply the way the world goes round, that I don't like the song.

 

It's tough trying to mix a light touch with something like spousal abuse. Not a circle I can easily square either and it's long made me uncomfortable. There's truth that some couples thrive on dysfunctional antagonism (I've been close to it and can't handle that toxicity), but the chorus and his levity in how he sings it is pitched too lightly for my taste. The live versions where he inserts the "happy enchilada" story also complicates this perception. On the other hand, there can be a medicinal quality in this approach.

I'm watching the Andy Griffith Show episode @HominyRhodes cited and right now (S1,Ep18). As I type this I'm paused in a strangely prescient scene right around the 18 minute mark. Andy's been counseling a married couple who get along with everyone but each other. In a marvelous sitcom-reality conceit it appears he's gotten them to get along. No more fights but, according to Aunt Bea, that man and woman are now snippy with everyone else. From a transcript (thanks, Internet! -- flying cars and turquoise jewelry be damned, we really are living in the future).

Who knows. A few years ago, a married "soccer mom" friend (herself twenty years into a, uh, "verbally aggressive" marriage) introduced me to the song "Blurred Lines." She loved it and could sing all the words. Giddily. I listened to it then read the words and couldn't bear hearing it again. She never got my... disgust... at the song. This was a huge hit and it's easily argued as intrinsically misogynistic and even rapey. But it winks, swings and courted its way to the top. That's the way the world goes 'round.

Returning to the song in question -- and strictly as a simplified experiment -- I swapped the order of the verses, starting with the lighter, "Please, Don't Bury Me"-esque verse and shifted to the weightier one (see below) to see how it might affect the emotional tenor. It doesn't fix the issue you raise, but I do think it's easier moving from light to dark then the other way around. In this case you wink at your audience with an absurd take on a very human emotional frailty, sing a chorus that comments on it comfortingly then (in a bit of a sucker punch) share a darker, more violent scenario. The chorus' arguable shrugging off of darkness remains but tweaking its post-abuse-verse arrangement or key might mitigate it before even changing words. Since I'm not a musician and have no training in theory I can't guess how one would approach it. As a word person I bet a little futzing around could do wonders to modulate the refrain's tone and add a layer without moralizing. I also believe an additional verse or bridge would be helpful. Then again it was a different time and that also has to be a consideration (not a justification). As it is, I think it has the makings of a signature song in his catalogue but it's missing a few key ingredients. Guess I'm on the fence here and I internally encounter this kind of complex reaction to many narratives of various vintages these days. Per the late Mark Strand, "the world is 'hard' and 'cold' and everyone has problems."



Inverting the Way the World Goes 'Round

I was sittin' in the bathtub just countin' my toes
When the radiator broke, water all froze
I was stuck in the ice without my clothes
Naked as the eyes of a clown
I was cryin' ice cubes, hopin' I'd croak
When the sun came through the window, the ice all broke
I stood up and laughed, I thought it was a joke
That's the way that the world goes 'round

That's the way that the world goes 'round
You're up one day, the next you're down
It's a half-an-inch of water and you think you're gonna drown
That's the way that the world goes 'round

I know a man who's got a lot to lose
A pretty nice fella, kinda confused
Got muscles in his head that've never been used
He thinks he owns half of this town
He goes out drinkin' gets a big red nose
Beats his old lady with a rubber hose
Then he takes her out to dinner Buys her new clothes
That's the way that the world goes 'round

That's the way that the world goes 'round
You're up one day, the next you're down
It's a half-an-inch of water and you think you're gonna drown
That's the way that the world goes 'round

 

I think the reversal of the verses is a bit better, but I still think Prine's initial thought, that it's a sad song, is accurate.

 

Prine's intentions with this song certainly set me to pondering.

The two verses sit in apparent opposition. One (where our hero is in the bath tub) a cautionary tale about worrying too much, overreacting, and blowing life's small difficulties all out of proportion - thus supporting the notion that we should simply ALLOW the world to "go 'round" without trying to exert control over it or fretting too much. And the other, seemingly (one would hope, anyway) decrying the notion that we should simply shrug our shoulders at serial domestic abusers and accept that behavior as business as usual (letting THAT kind of world keep going 'round).

Perhaps Prine meant to write the second type of song when he started what he thought was a "fairly sad song". But little clues seem to tell us otherwise. The man in question, apart from beating his wife, is a "pretty nice fella". He's dumb, yes, but his behavior is just "kinda confused" rather than cowardly, repulsive and unlawful. He think he's a big shot and he's got a bit of a drinking problem, but I think the listener can go along with Prine in forgiving those faults. It brings to mind a verse from another song that always sticks in my craw - from The Beatles' "Getting Better". "I used to be cruel to my woman, I beat her and kept her apart from the things that she loved. Man I was mean but I'm changing my scene and I'm doing the best that I can." Yes, he figured out his behavior was wrong, and yes, he fixed it, but ... he escapes any consequence (apparently facing no legal trouble, and having his woman decide to stay with him despite his abuse). And the whole verse smacks of the abuser still being in the driver's seat and making the decisions ("I've decided to stop beating you dear") while the victim is powerless.

In the second character (the bather), I think almost every listener will see herself/himself. Panicked over nothing. Wanting to simply lay down and die at lunch time but laughing about narrowly escaping a disaster by dinner. I think this verse and the chorus are what REACH the listener and make this come off as a "really uplifting" song. When I first heard this song, my very first inclination was to subconsciously play Prine apologist. I took up the notion that beating with a rubber hose was some benign ritual - but in reality it's far from that - it's an honest-to-goodness means of torture. So the Prine apologist in me eventually lost the battle. There's a line in "China Town" on "Pink Cadillac" that elicits a level of discomfort for me as well, but I place it in a nearly 40 year old context and just sort of move along. That's harder to do with this song - because even in a 40 year old context it's disturbingly casual, even if it wasn't intentionally meant to be.

That's just my take, of course. I won't presume to speak for another listener. But I simply can't throw the baby out with the bath water (even though maybe I should). There's so much joy to be mined from the rest of the song, and it serves such a pivotal role in what I see as the (subconscious) theme of the album, that I am reluctant to simply cast it out.

 

Important quote. It reveals a lot about JP's keen ability to simplify things, not really all the way down to a child's point of view, I don't think, but certainly from the perspective of an optimistic "everyman/everywoman." Someone lacking in bitterness or cynicism, probably a little naïve, who's still occasionally filled with wide-eyed wonder at this goofy old world.

 

From the "Great Days" entry for "Storm Windows":

I used to have these spells every so often as a child where like the ceiling of the room was in normal perspective, but the doorway would appear much farther away than it was. Coupled with this, all noises seemed muffled and distant, particularly the traffic moving on the wet or snow-covered pavement. I was really in another world.

Most of the time I think of John as a regular fella, who enjoys a few "macro brews" while he watches the ball game in his t-shirt. And other times I think he is a savant, with perceptive skills so far beyond ours that we are lucky he shares his insights.

 

"That's the way that the world goes 'round/You're up one day, the next you're down..."

I'm not entirely sure why, but reading the lyrics to the song first sent me over to this:
THE SERENITY PRAYER (attrib. Reinhold Niebuhr)
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference."

...and then to this '60s pop hit:


Being lucky enough to have the warmth of the sun melt the frozen bathtub you're stranded in, though...wow, that's not really about the challenges or paradoxes of everyday life, that seems straight out of some old comedy short or cartoon. And JP is just the right guy to put it in one of his songs for comic relief.

 

Two very salient choices, influence-wise, in my opinion (and two more "Why Didn't I Think of That?'"s!)

It occurred to me as well that in order to bring his point across, Prine uses a cartoonish image. In real life, one would have to be extraordinarily inattentive to remain in the bath tub while the water went from hot, to warm, to cold, to frozen. It would, in fact, take extra special discipline, rather than simple inaction.

 

Day 5 - The Title Track

"Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow)"

From Wikipedia:

The title song was inspired by a real life tragedy, as Prine later explained to Paul Zollo in 2009: "I liked the title, and the image, and I wanted to do something with that image without saying anything about an orange or a bruise in the song. It was based upon something that actually happened. I was an altar boy, and the Northwestern train tracks were not far from the church that I went to. I was going down there one day and there was this big ruckus going on at the train tracks. I had to go shovel the snow off the church steps before mass. Because they’d sue the church if people fell and broke their legs. So I was going down there to get the snow and ice off. I went over to the train tracks. A kid who had also been an altar boy at the Catholic church, I found out later, was walking down the train tracks. And evidently the commuter train came up behind him. They were taking him away in bushel baskets, there was nothing left of him. There were a bunch of mothers standing around, trying to figure out – cause it was Sunday morning and all their kids were gone and they didn’t know – they all hadn’t located their children yet, and they didn’t know who it was."

Similarly, from "Great Days":

I had a job at 15 working at an Episcopal church as a janitor. I was a pew dustin', cross polishin', lawn mowin', snow shovelin' son of a gun. Early one Sunday morning, I was walking through the alley by the church to shovel snow before the congregation arrived. All that's out on the streets at that time on Sunday morning were paperboys, alter boys, and guys like me. Turns out one of the altar boys on his way to the Catholic church was walking down the train tracks. God only knows where his mind was, but a local commuter train came from behind and they had to put him in bushel baskets - what was left. I saw a group of mothers standing near the accident, not knowing whose boy it was. When they finally identified the boy, the mother broke down, and the other mothers consoled her but with a great sense of relief. This story is coupled with a shattered romance, juxtaposed with a loss of innocence: "My heart's in the ice house, come hill or come valley".



My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley
On a cold winter's morning to a church house
Just to shovel some snow.

I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin' nuder,
An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter
Just from walking with his back turned
To the train that was coming so slow.

You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
Throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"
But it don't do no good to get angry,
So help me I know

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
Wrapped up in a trap of your very own
Chain of sorrow.

I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there.
I sat on a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair
And my head shouted down to my heart
"You better look out below!"

Hey, it ain't such a long drop don't stammer don't stutter
From the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter
And you carry those bruises
To remind you wherever you go.

This is my favorite John Prine song. I could go on at great length, but I'd like to cede the floor for the moment.

 

Keep going..great thread! Love this one -- my vinyl treasure--a completely wonderful album, start to finish!

 

Bruised Orange: A terrific song. I didn't know the background, but the organ does sound "churchly", almost hymnlike. So it's not just the words, it's a perfect pairing with the music.

 

Aw heck, there's even some "jingle bells" on there the first time he mentions the snow!

 

Thanks for your due diligence, Ray. It's going to take me awhile to fully comprehend all the aspects of this song, now that I've read the interview segments you posted, and the full lyrics, and then re-listened to it. Honestly, I was quite taken aback, since I thought I "knew" the song from way back, but I certainly didn't.

I've ridden the Chicago Northwestern (now Metra) commuter train line that passes through downtown Maywood, referenced by JP in the interview, many times, but I never would have connected that locale to Prine's verse in Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow) unless I had come across his commentary, which I never did. It actually stunned me a little to read that, since one of my grade school pals died the same way, on that same train line, back when I was ten years old. One of those chilling, horrifying, saddening episodes that make you stop and wonder why things happen the way they do.

"Heart's in the ice house...carry those bruises..." Like so many of JPs works, including other songs on this album, he feels compelled to examine the human condition, scratch his head and say "Gee, I wonder what's up with that?" and then warn us all to mask our vulnerabilities, to armor ourselves unless we're willing to suffer.

I certainly need to revisit this song a few more times now, and I want to thank you for putting it out there, with added context, for us to think about. I believe I've said it before, but if John Prine ever wants to put out a nice collection of his complete lyrics, you would the perfect person to edit and annotate such a volume. Failing that, I would suggest that someone simply collect all of your comments, observations and lyrical interpretations from the JP threads here and voila! -- instant classic.

 

No pressure, Ray!

 

I always thought that the lines "he beats his old lady with a rubber hose, then he takes her out to dinner and buys her new clothes" was one of the more succinct descriptions of the abuse cycle (along with Emily Gilkyson's"Rosie Strike Back", best known in a version by Rosanne Cash).