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Along with the excitement of The Talking Heads, David Bowie, The Tubes, and myriad other '70's culture hip music icons was this quiet voice just tearing our hearts out with his songs from the American heartland. You'd put John Prine on the turntable, drop the needle and time would stand still. Breathing would become deliberate, disconnected from your autonomous nervous system. Your soul would swell in your skin, push out your pores and join the vast racial memory of wounded humankind. Any presumed sophistication and cynicism that shielded you from the low brow So-Cal masses would give way to a deeper love and understanding of our innate brotherhood. Bob Marley had the same powerful effect, but John Prine was so subversive with his country twang. My eyes still well when I listen: "So if you're walking down the street sometimeAnd spot some hollow ancient eyes,Please don't just pass 'em by and stareAs if you didn't care, say, Hello in there, hello."