Some songs arrive with thunder. Others arrive like dusk—softly, steadily, and with a glow that lingers long after the sun disappears. “We Could,” the tender duet between John Prine and Iris DeMent, belongs firmly to the latter. Released on Prine’s 1999 duet album In Spite of Ourselves, the track never chased radio dominance or chart-topping glory. Instead, it chose a quieter victory: embedding itself in the hearts of listeners who understand that love is less about fireworks and more about the steady warmth of a shared porch light.
More than two decades later, “We Could” feels even more poignant—especially in the wake of John Prine’s passing in 2020. Listening now is like opening a handwritten letter from an old friend: the ink slightly faded, but the sentiment more powerful than ever.
A Project Born from Affection for Classic Country
The story of “We Could” begins with a simple idea. John Prine, long admired for his storytelling brilliance, wanted to pay tribute to the classic country duets he adored. Rather than crafting a concept album weighed down by nostalgia, he envisioned something alive and personal—a collection of duets with some of the finest female voices in contemporary roots music.
Iris DeMent was a natural choice.
DeMent’s voice has always carried a rare blend of innocence and gravity. There’s a tremble in her tone that suggests both vulnerability and wisdom, as though she’s lived every word she sings. Paired with Prine’s warm, conversational delivery, the result is nothing short of magical. Their voices don’t compete; they lean into each other. They converse. They breathe together.
On In Spite of Ourselves, Prine also collaborated with artists like Emmylou Harris, Lucinda Williams, and Trisha Yearwood, but “We Could” stands apart for its understated intimacy. It doesn’t wink at the audience. It doesn’t play for laughs. It simply exists—calm, steady, sincere.
The Beauty of the Ordinary
At its core, “We Could” is a song about possibility—but not the grand, cinematic kind. The title suggests open horizons, yet the lyrics remain grounded in the everyday:
“We could sit on the porch and swing.”
“We could just watch the late, late show.”
These aren’t extravagant dreams. There are no tropical escapes or dramatic declarations. Instead, the song paints small, tender vignettes of shared domestic life. And that’s precisely its brilliance.
Prine understood something many songwriters overlook: lasting love isn’t built on spectacle. It’s built on repetition. On the quiet agreement to share time, space, and silence. On the comfort of knowing someone is there—not because they have to be, but because they choose to be.
“We Could” gently reminds us that intimacy is found in routine. In familiar laughter. In watching television together after a long day. In swinging side by side as the world slows down around you.
Songwriting in Its Purest Form
John Prine’s songwriting has always been praised for its deceptive simplicity. He wrote in plain language, but beneath those straightforward words lay emotional depth that could rival the most elaborate poetry. In “We Could,” he once again proves that less truly is more.
There’s no lyrical acrobatics here. No attempt to dazzle with clever metaphors. Instead, the power of the song lies in its restraint. It trusts the listener. It leaves space for personal memory to slip in between the lines.
Iris DeMent’s harmonies elevate the track even further. When she joins Prine, it doesn’t feel like a featured guest stepping into the spotlight. It feels like a partner answering back. Their voices intertwine in a way that suggests shared history—even if that history exists only within the song itself.
The arrangement mirrors this simplicity. Gentle acoustic instrumentation frames the vocals without overwhelming them. It’s the kind of production that feels organic, almost timeless. You could play it in 1999 or 2025, and it would feel equally at home.
A Song That Grows With You
What makes “We Could” particularly powerful is how it changes as you age. For younger listeners, it may sound quaint—almost modest in its ambitions. But for those who have walked through years of partnership, through seasons of ease and difficulty, the song resonates on a deeper level.
It speaks to the couples who have weathered life’s unpredictability together. To those who know that love isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just two people deciding, day after day, to stay.
In a world saturated with dramatic love songs—songs about breakups, betrayals, passionate reunions—“We Could” feels radical in its calmness. It suggests that enduring love doesn’t need to shout. It just needs to endure.
And perhaps that’s why it continues to find new audiences. In uncertain times, there is something profoundly comforting about a song that offers stability rather than chaos.
The Legacy of a Gentle Giant
John Prine’s influence on American songwriting is immeasurable. He was a craftsman who made the extraordinary out of the ordinary. His songs often centered on everyday people, small-town settings, and quiet revelations.
“We Could” fits beautifully within that legacy. It may not be the most famous track in his catalog, but it encapsulates the essence of what made him beloved: empathy, humility, and an unwavering belief in the dignity of simple lives.
Iris DeMent, too, brings her own legacy to the song. Known for her deeply personal and spiritually infused songwriting, she adds a sincerity that keeps the duet grounded and authentic. Together, they create a moment that feels less like a studio recording and more like a shared memory.
A Song for the Porch Swing Generation
If there’s an image that perfectly captures “We Could,” it’s that of a porch swing at sunset. Two silhouettes gently rocking. No rush. No spectacle. Just presence.
In an era driven by speed and spectacle, this song invites us to slow down. To reconsider what we value. To recognize that the most meaningful parts of life often happen in stillness.
“We Could” may never have dominated the charts, but it has quietly dominated hearts. It remains a testament to the idea that love—real love—is built in small moments repeated over time.
And maybe that’s the greatest achievement any song can hope for.
Because long after trends fade and hits are forgotten, there will always be two people somewhere sitting side by side, thinking:
We could.