John Prine could come right at the listener with his lyrics as well as anyone. He could spice up the direct approach with his disarming humor and unique turns of phrase. But you generally knew what Prine’s songs were about when you heard them. “Mexican Home” proves a bit more elusive than all that, at least until the final verse. That’s when this vague song takes a serious, somber turn.
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“Home” Fires
John Prine began his career as the ultimate musical underdog. He was working as a mailman when he wrote the songs that made up his landmark 1971 debut album. Once folks heard those songs, they realized that Prine was a major songwriting talent wrapped up in a humble package.
By the time he released his 1973 album Sweet Revenge, he had established himself within the industry, which meant a closer spotlight on everything he did. It also meant a bigger budget. That explains why the album sounded almost like a rock effort at times, thanks to the presence of a full band and production by the legendary Arif Mardin.
That said, Prine could never totally leave his roots behind when making his music. “Mexican Home” goes about it in a bit of a roundabout fashion, but it addresses the death of his father. When Prine was growing up in Kentucky, his father instilled in him a love of country music.
The family eventually moved to Illinois. It was there that the elder Prine passed away, not long before his son was scheduled to release his debut album. When he addressed this tragedy on “Mexican Home”, he did so in such a way that the event of his father’s death hits like a gut punch within the song, which is probably how it felt to John Prine in real life.
Exploring the Lyrics of “Mexican Home”
In newspaper terminology, John Prine buries the lead in “Mexican Home”. For two verses, we’re unsure of anything related to the narrator other than that he’s stuck in some oppressive heat. Only toward the end of the song do we realize that this heat is a manifestation of his intense grief.
Up until that point, Prine treats us to illuminating descriptions. “Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol,” he explains. When Prine sings of the passing cars, “As the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall,” you can visualize the scene so clearly once you home in on the songwriter’s unique perspective.
The second verse starts to make subtle hints at what’s coming, especially with this couplet: “Well, the cuckoo clock has died of shock and the windows feel no pain/The air’s as still as a throttle on a funeral train.” Along those lines, the chorus mentions “that sacred coal that burns inside of me,” which suggests something deep and personal that the song wants to reveal.
In the final verse, Prine finally lets in on the secret. “Well, my father died on the porch outside on an August afternoon,” he sings. “I sipped bourbon and cried with a friend by the light of the moon.” All the heat references make sense now that we’ve discovered the timing of the tragedy that precipitated the song.
“So it’s hurry, hurry, step right up, it’s a matter of life or death,” Prine sings after this revelation. It’s a line that speaks of urgency, perhaps the urgency he felt to live his best life after his father’s passing, or perhaps the urgency he wished he’d felt before to make the most of his time with him. As it turns out, “Mexican Home” keeps us guessing even after it drops the hammer.
Photo by Tom Hill/Getty Images
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