(illustration by Sally Minker)
Two songs ago, on Souvenirs, Steve Goodman’s guitar work was very hard to peel apart from John Prine’s. But Prine’s guitar picking pattern here on Sour Grapes seems very close to that on Souvenirs, but without Goodman’s embroidery. You can use Sour Grapes as a tool to get a better handle on what Prine’s right hand is up to on Souvenirs.
More importantly, Prine’s relatively unadorned, unsupported guitar work here also gives the song a spare regularity, like the lonesome ticking of an old mantel clock. Sour Grapes is mood song — in fact, it’s remarkable how many songs from Diamonds in the Rough can be summed up as “a mood put across in lyric and melody.”
The mood in Sour Grapes seems familiar enough, and that familiarity makes the song seem funny, like a silly little tune. Which I think is perfectly true.
But simply taking the words seriously and literally leads me to ask what else is happening. The speaker of the song has retained some friends solely to prevent other people from thinking he’s mentally ill, for example. Is Prine’s deadpan humor more funny than it is chilling?
I don’t care if the sun don’t shine
But it better, or people will wonder
Even when he writes a tossed-off song, Prine leaves you wondering …
(This is part of my song-by-song series on John Prine’s second album, Diamonds in the Rough: Everybody * The Torch Singer * Souvenirs * The Late John Garfield Blues * Sour Grapes * Billy The Bum * The Frying Pan * Yes I Guess They Oughta Name a Drink After You * Take the Star Out of the Window * The Great Compromise * Clocks and Spoons * Rocky Mountain Time * Diamonds in the Rough)