John Prine was never destined to be another Elvis Presley. For one thing, Prine has a face that wouldn't win any beauty contests. For another thing, Prine's voice sounds a bit like Froggy from the Our Gang comedies. Not exactly the "right stuff" for rock and roll royalty. And, yet, Prine has been releasing quality albums for 26 years now--something Elvis stopped doing in about 1958.

Prine is an oddity, no matter how you look at it. For instance, he’s from Chicago and yet he sings with a dirt-road, Southern accent: "Hello in tharrrr, hello." He’s not another Dylan trying to sound like Woody Guthrie, or another Ramblin’ Jack Elliott trying to sound like he’s from Oklahoma rather than Brooklyn. He sounds like no one other than John Prine. Another extreme oddity is that he was first "discovered" by Kris Kristofferson after a heads-up from (are you ready for this?) Paul Anka.

Prine’s songs aren’t folk; they aren’t blues. There are country elements, but nothing Nashville would come close to claiming. There are rock elements, but nothing to appease your average air guitarist. It sure as hell isn’t "world music" or "new age" or any of that happy PC hoowah. If I had to categorize his songs, I’d opt for "country-folk roll filtered through electro-acoustic rock." Or not. And, the lyrics--funny, sad, over-the-top, yet ever on target. (More from A Big, Fat Retrospective by Steve Cooper)