John Prine knows happiness. At several points during his Thursday show at the Warner Theatre, Prine looked into the roaring crowd, smiled with embarrassment and shook his head as if he weren't worthy of such clamorous kudos. He was the picture of bliss.
But the songbook Prine has written over the past several decades, all chapters of which were touched on during his two-hour-plus set, is close to a contentment-free zone. Instead, his gift comes in creating characters who either look back over their mistakes or look forward to a time when it'll be much better. The present is never much good.
Though regarded primarily as a humorist, Prine has dwelled on life's unhappy side since the start of his career. At Thursday's show, he offered up several brilliantly depressing, yet thoroughly crowd-pleasing, tracks from his 1971 debut album. "Sam Stone" told of the drug-addled war veteran who dies broke and alone. "Paradise" mulled over how great the old Kentucky home town was before strip miners came in. The still-gorgeous "Hello in There," which he dedicated on this night to his mother, reminded anybody who needed reminding that growing old ain't a picnic: Oak trees and rivers may thrive with age, the song goes, but "old people just grow lonesome." Also from that album: the beautiful "Angel From Montgomery" and the antiwar anthem "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore," which Prine said he had resurrected because audiences across the country asked him to send a message to Washington.
Prine, now 57, hasn't toured much since being diagnosed in late 1997 with squamous cell carcinoma, a cancer, and having a tumor removed from near his throat. His voice, which was gruff before the surgery and subsequent radiation therapy, isn't noticeably weaker, though he didn't quite hit the high notes during the chorus of "Hello in There," his only attempt at crooning.
That layoff, and the reasons for it, probably contributed to the devotion fans showed Prine, who was backed by bassist Dave Jacques and guitarist Jason Wilber from the moment he took the Warner stage. Prine's enthusiasm never wavered, either. While answering the crowd's call for an encore, Prine and his mates rocked as hard as a drummer-less trio could during a fabulous jam version of "Lake Marie," a love story that ends with a grisly double murder. Prine was pounding so vigorously on his big acoustic guitar while egging on Wilber that he broke a lower string. Neither the song's subject matter nor the instrument malfunction could take the smile off Prine's face.
