FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

COPING WITH COVID: THE MUSICAL ESCAPE

By Gian Marcon

When I woke up this morning, things were looking bad. Seemed like total silence was the only friend I had. Bowl of oatmeal tried to stare me down… and won. It was 12 o’clock before I realized I was having no fun.

John Prine (1946 – 2020)

On March 12, Ontarians’ lives changed dramatically as a number of measures – including the closing of schools – were announced in response to the global coronavirus pandemic. As I write this article, in mid-April, the emergency measures have just been extended for another 28 days, and the chances of a return to traditional classes for the current school year appear to be remote, at best.

So, as I sit at my dining room table, which now serves as the epicenter of my improvised home office, a number of thoughts have germinated about our new reality.

In a previous column, I reflected on the purpose and power behind a restorative, contemplative walk. Little did I know that within a few short weeks, a solitary walk would become my only option if I wanted to clear my head. To complicate matters, many of the locations where I have traditionally taken my walks were being closed to the public. It quickly became obvious to anyone roaming the neighbourhood streets that the world we were accustomed to had changed. Every time I crossed the street to maintain social distance, I was reminded that vigilance is now required. I could not just let my mind wander. When I tried to clear my head, I found that I could not. What used to be a pleasant experience had turned into a chore. Instead of looking forward to walking, I was walking out of a sense of obligation, realizing that I should be taking every opportunity to exercise, because I should get some fresh air and because it got me out of the house. And then John Prine died.

Some of you may remember a short-lived TV series from the mid-1970s called “The Texas Wheelers.” It starred an irascible Jack Elam and two very young actors named Mark Hamill and Gary Busey. It was not a particularly notable show, but it always stayed with me because the theme song was sung by John Prine.

When I became aware of his death from COVID-19, I did what many of his fans did: I searched out his music. On a whim, I googled “Texas Wheelers Theme Song,” and sure enough the first verse of his classic, “Illegal Smile,” played over top the opening credits. The beginning of the song, cited at the outset above, might lead the listener to surmise that the song is going to be one big downer. But in typical Prine fashion, the song pivots:

But fortunately, I have the key to escape reality, And you may see me tonight with an illegal smile. It don’t cost very much but it lasts a long while. Won’t you please tell the man I didn’t kill anyone, I’m just tryin’ to have me some fun.

It evoked a melancholy smile and tear – and, not surprisingly, also embedded a persistent earworm. In fact, my twangy impression of Prine’s not-so-dulcet tones could be heard in my household for days. I could not stop singing and listening to his extensive discography, including my personal favourite: his collaboration with Steve Godman on “Souvenirs.” Soon after, as I was preparing for another of my twice-daily walks, I decided – for the first time – to pull out the ear buds for my iPhone. I set out listening to a playlist that included the music of John Prine and other of my favourite artists.

That day, I began to experience a renewed sense of pleasure from my walk. The music distracted me just enough to block out the previous sense that things were somehow off-kilter. By allowing the music to take me to other places, my body began to move organically and subconsciously. I had reclaimed my walking mojo, and it felt good.

I am going to miss John Prine, but I am fortunate to have had this latest opportunity to appreciate and benefit from his talents. In the midst of these life-altering events, my love of music and those who provide it has stood me in good stead and sustained me once again. I hope all of you are staying safe during these difficult times, and I wish you all the good listening you can manage.