One day when I was reading The Stranger, I noticed that living musical legend, John Prine would be playing the Paramount Theatre in Seattle on April 17. I instantly wondered if Monster Fresh founder/editor, Dead C could take a swing for me and get me into this show. So, I called him up and gave him a few lines, reminding him what a huge Johnny fan I was and all that hogwash, and then asked, “Hey dude, do you think you hook this up for me?” From my understanding, this show had some outside promotion and was a little tricky but, thanks to some extremely gracious assistance from the Seattle Theatre Group, my friend Megan and I were provided with a pair of seats, in the exclusive Paramount Club lounge no less.
To give you a little background on my fascination with Prine, we must travel back in time to Olympia, Washington and Crazy Leland’s Mormon Mansion on Biscay RD, about a mile away from The Evergreen State College. I was getting pretty wasted in the kitchen and staring into a huge tropical fish tank that was built into the wall. It was Bond movie type shit, except that it was financed with the trust fund money of a wingnut with an addiction to weed and comic books. I must admit that the fish never looked so pretty (I believe that I was probably on mushrooms at the time). Friend and fellow Monster Fresh contributor, MEMES had suggested that we go into his room to jam some records. I figured that it sounded like a good idea, so I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and moved on. When we reached his room, the first thing that he asked me was if I wanted to smoke some glass. I declined, both because I was already high and drunk and because, after growing up in the suburb of Kent, I was perfectly aware of what that shit can do to your teeth. I’m pretty sure that 99 percent of people would have immediately left the room at that point. In fact, I might have even been one of them, if it wasn’t for MEMES‘ next comment, which went something like this, “Hey bitch, you wanna hear my favorite Country music?” I had to know what a glass-smoking hippie with a drum n’ bass obsession could possibly know about country, so I stayed. He put on Prine‘s self-titled debut and the first song that he played was “Paradise“. I thought to myself, “Wow! This is a great song.” Next I heard “Sam Stone“, a track that would both change the way that I view Country music and music in general. It has honestly established a formula with which I would judge lyrics by any artist from then on out, whether it be country, rock n roll, soul, blues, singer/songwriter etc. If you have never heard “Sam Stone“, you should probably stop reading this right now and Youtube that song of a bitch (or simply view it in this pop-up box HERE). It’s a great piece of work; similar to Oliver Stone‘s Born on the Fourth of July, except that Prine‘s version involves a wife and kids and more drugs. Read the rest of this entry →
I used to work the graveyard shift as a night auditor at a pair of shitty hotels, across the street from a crack park in downtown Seattle. I was eventually, and intentionally, fired but, like most shitty jobs, this one had some Pros mixed in with its Cons. The pros were the comical 
