Diamonds in the Rough

from Conflict Diamonds



The 13 tracks of Diamonds in the Rough take a lot of sharp turns in style, mood, and subject. Even so, its last track comes as a surprise. It’s different.

“Diamonds in the Rough” is the album’s only a cappella track, for example, and its the only song not written by John Prine. We depart the album via a departure, and the album is named for it.

For “Diamonds,” John, his elder brother David, and Steve Goodman sing in tight, intimate, family harmony between two siblings and their brother in business, music, and community.

I haven’t researched the origins of the song all that deeply — about enough to know that, if I didn’t look away quickly, it would launch me into yet another unfinishable book project.

I can say that the documented life of “Diamonds” seems to begin with an 1836 sacred music collection aimed at shape note singers. A copyright was gotten for a version of the song published during the Progressive Era, and the honorable Uncle Dave Macon recorded his version in September 1926.

Prine, Prine, and Goodman’s version of “Diamonds” was surely based on a 1929 recording by The Carter Family. But then, what wasn’t?

I’ve learned to judge The Carter Family’s impact on American culture for myself. Growing up, I saw “A. P. Carter” credited on the labels of quite a few of my older brothers’ LPs, and thereby became aware of a consensus that A. P. was quite the creative powerhouse. Today, I’m more cautious about that.

Certainly, Sara and Maybelle defined the core identity of The Carter Family, and they both made profound and vastly consequential contributions to American culture. Maybelle even helped The Man in Black survive withdrawal. By now, I hold her to be among the greatest artists of the 20th Century. Maybelle Carter was never called an asshole.

John Prine wasn’t one to exploit religion to pinch an audience — his songs and Prine himself were more than enough to win our loyalty.

Often enough, he’d sing about Jesus (the missing years), Christ (I’m so mixed up and lonely), the Savior (said pardon me), and the Father (forgive us, we’ll forgive you).

But Jesus wasn’t important to his business model, so I figure Prine must’ve had other uses for him. (See my entry on “Billy The Bum” for my best writing on this.) So, indulge me for a moment while I imagine the “Diamonds” cut as holding some sort of transcendental significance or other.

“Diamonds” is the album’s 13th track. So, what if the first 12 tracks are disciples and the 13th track arrives on a donkey as the Jesus song? However enthusiastic about this idea you surely must be feeling, it’s not a good fit. For one thing, the lyrics of “Diamonds” definitely make it the song of an apostle, not a savior.

So could, maybe, Track 13 instead revive the unsettled question of the identity of a Thirteenth Apostle? Candidates have been floated.

Some suggest Judas — but as one of the 12, sending him to the back of the line doesn’t change the count. As a Minnesotan, I like Saint Paul. Emperor Constantine is also a fine candidate with a strong resume — he became the Roman Emperor at a time when Christianity got you executed and then made Europe officially Christian. You can’t argue with results.

Some have suggested Mary Magdelyn as the 13th disciple, and that works best for me. I’ve probably seen Guys and Dolls too many times, but I always imagine women as the leaders of the now-moribund mission band phenomenon. When I hear Sara Carter sing “Diamonds” … sister, I believe it.

As songs meant for a woman’s voice, I’ve sometimes thought of Prine’s, Prine’s, and Goodman’s rendition of “Diamonds in the Rough” as a companion piece to “Angel from Montgomery” from John’s debut album.

“Angel” is one reason I didn’t write a song-by-song series about that first album. How the hell can a person write anything worthy of a lyric (or a prayer) that goes, “Make me an angel that flies from Montgomery”?

Why did Prine record a century-and-a-half-old song in such a very memorable way, and why did he name his second album after it? Dunno.

But with art, religion, politics, or anything else, I often try to imagine the hour-to-hour lives other people live. Do they work in the shade and sleep in the sun, or the other way around? The Carter Family’s longer version is from a rather different phase of American life, but it provides some pretty confessional testimony about what life feels like as a missionary.

One day my precious comrade, you too were lost in sin,
And others sought your rescue and Jesus took you in.
So when you’re tried and tempted by the scoffer’s keen rebuff,
Don’t turn away in anger. There’s diamonds in the rough.

While reading through the Bible, some wondrous sights I see.
I read of Peter, James, and John by the Sea of Galilee.
And Jesus, when he found them, he found them very tough.
And they were precious diamonds he gathered in the rough.

When his second album was released, Prine was now a road warrior, evangelizing on behalf of his own skills, artistic vision, and economic prospects.

More so than the debut album, when I listen to Diamonds, it’s easy to hear Prine lost out there, trying to make a name for himself as a new act in the record business. Clocks and spoons, Rocky Mountain time, and great compromise. Take the star out of the window. Jesus, you look tired.

According to Prine himself, Diamonds rescues at least a few songs Prine wrote before recording his first album. He wasn’t even sure if maybe “Sour Grapes” and “Frying Pan” weren’t the first songs he ever wrote in his life. They certainly sound to me like very early efforts of a young genius.

So, some of the gems on Diamonds had gotten tossed into the rough during the making of Prine’s debut album, John Prine. When I listen to the debut today, as a real adult, a couple-few cuts don’t hold up for me quite as well as I would’ve expected when I was younger. Diamonds, on the other hand, still sounds like diamonds from start to finish.

To my ears, the Diamonds album sounds like Prine thinking about his life in the music business.

He liked to tell the (possibly true) story of (as I remember it) showing up at a specified place and time to get his picture taken. When he arrived, he was ordered to sit, for the first and only time in his life, on a bale of hay. The photographer snapped a picture and he was dismissed. That photo became the cover of Prine’s first album.

Diamonds just might be closer to the debut album Prine would’ve released if he’d been in charge of his own label — as he soon would be. And he turned out to be a pretty canny entrepreneur, having learned hard lessons early in his career, touring around, passing the hat, and making his first two albums.

It took 6780 days to write about the 13 songs of Diamonds in the Rough. The first installment of this series was posted 18 years, 6 months, and 2 weeks ago.

Around then, Hurricane Katrina made landfall. Sideways won an Oscar. The first YouTube video was posted. Honey Boo Boo was born. Granted, I didn’t work on this continuously — I had to sleep now and then.

The question confronting me now is what to do next. Should I take on the first album next? All of Prine’s albums?

If I worked at the same pace and wrote about the 17 other albums listed on the wikimonster as Prine’s “studio albums,” I would be finished around the year 2338. I think that’s an election year — presumably, Biden and Trump will be running against each other again.

Obviously, there’s more to life than song-by-song essays about Prine albums. For example, song-by-song essays about the Anthology of American Folk Music! At my current 521 days per song, writing up the 4-volume Anthology would occupy me through the year 2184.

If only I had started covering Bob Dylan’s 40 studio albums around the time Kubla Khan gave up trying to conquer Japan and about when the Mamluks crushed the last Crusaders in Syria, I’d be just about done already.



(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)

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