“My Old Man” – A Tender Portrait of Friendship, Memory, and a Man Who Burned Bright
When “My Old Man” appeared in 1978 on Bruised Orange, it was not released as a commercial single, nor did it climb the Billboard charts. Yet in its quiet, unassuming way, it became one of the most heartfelt tributes ever written in American songwriting—a deeply personal farewell from John Prine to his beloved friend, the brilliant and gone-too-soon Steve Goodman. It stands today not as a charting hit, but as an enduring emotional landmark in the landscape of American folk and country music.
By 1978, John Prine had already established himself as one of the most eloquent and disarming songwriters of his generation. His debut album, John Prine (1971), had introduced a voice that was at once plainspoken and poetic, humorous yet piercingly humane. With Bruised Orange, Prine refined that balance even further. The album itself reached No. 84 on the Billboard 200, modest by commercial standards but significant in terms of artistic credibility. And nestled within it was “My Old Man,” a song that feels less like a studio recording and more like a late-night confession shared over a kitchen table.
The “old man” in the title is not Prine’s father. It is Steve Goodman, the Chicago troubadour best known for writing “City of New Orleans,” a song that became a major hit for Arlo Guthrie (No. 18 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1972) and later for Willie Nelson, whose version topped the country charts in 1984. Goodman and Prine were not just colleagues; they were brothers in spirit—two Midwestern songwriters who shared stages, laughter, and the kind of artistic camaraderie that only comes once in a lifetime.
Goodman battled leukemia for years, yet he performed with infectious joy and irrepressible humor. When he passed away in 1984 at the age of 36, the loss reverberated through the folk and country community. But even before Goodman’s death, Prine had written “My Old Man” as a tribute to their bond. The song is playful, irreverent, and tender all at once. Lines like “My old man’s a good old man / But he lives in a different town” carry a wink and a tear in the same breath. There is affection in every syllable.
Musically, “My Old Man” is deceptively simple. The arrangement is spare—acoustic guitar, gentle rhythm, nothing ornamental. That simplicity allows the story to breathe. Prine never indulges in grand gestures. Instead, he paints small details: shared cigarettes, familiar jokes, that unspoken understanding between friends who have seen each other through lean years and bright nights. It is a celebration not of fame, but of fellowship.
What makes the song resonate so deeply is its refusal to turn sentimental in the obvious way. Prine understood that true love—whether for a parent, a partner, or a friend—often reveals itself through humor. He teases Goodman in the lyrics, but beneath the teasing is a profound acknowledgment: some people loom larger than life precisely because of their humanity. They are flawed, funny, stubborn, and incandescent.
In the broader context of 1970s American songwriting, “My Old Man” belongs to a tradition of intimate storytelling championed by artists like Kris Kristofferson, Guy Clark, and Townes Van Zandt. Yet Prine’s voice was uniquely his own. Where others might lean toward poetic abstraction, he chose plain speech. Where others dramatized, he understated. And in that understatement lies the song’s enduring power.
Over the years, “My Old Man” has become a quiet cornerstone of Prine’s live performances. It is often introduced with anecdotes about Goodman—stories filled with laughter, tinged with longing. After Prine’s own passing in 2020, the song has taken on another layer of meaning. Listeners now hear it as a circle completed: one friend singing about another, both now part of the same immortal chorus of American songwriters.
The meaning of “My Old Man” ultimately rests in its gentle reminder that the people who shape us are not always the ones who raise us—they are the ones who walk beside us. In celebrating Steve Goodman, John Prine gave us more than a tribute. He gave us a meditation on loyalty, on creative kinship, and on the quiet miracle of finding someone who understands your jokes before you finish telling them.
It may never have topped a chart, but its place in the emotional rankings of American music is far higher than any number could measure. In its modest chords and warm storytelling, “My Old Man” continues to glow—like a porch light left on long after the evening has settled in.
Oldies Songs