How Much Tequila — a wry smile, a dusty barroom, and two friends who turned life’s bruises into music
There is a special warmth that settles over you the moment John Prine and Steve Goodman share a song — a warmth born not only from their voices, but from the deep friendship that shaped their music. “How Much Tequila” is one of those pieces that carries their unmistakable bond: Prine’s crooked grin hidden inside the melody, Goodman’s bright-eyed humor dancing between the lines, and an undercurrent of truth that older listeners instinctively feel — that life is as fragile as it is funny, and sometimes you need a drink or two to make sense of it all.
Though never a charting single, the song holds a cherished place in the Prine–Goodman story. It appeared during the period when both men were regulars on the folk circuit in the 1970s and early 1980s, a world of small clubs, late-night conversations, and stages where the smoke hung low and the music hung even lower. They often performed it live together, swapping verses and grins, turning a simple tune into a shared moment between two dear friends who understood life’s absurdities better than most.
What gives “How Much Tequila” its staying power isn’t commercial success — it’s the human truth tucked inside its humor. The title sounds like a barroom joke, but the heart of the song is about coping: with loneliness, with restlessness, with all the little disappointments that accumulate over the years. Prine and Goodman never approached life with self-pity. Instead, they wrapped their hurt in wit and gave the world songs that made people laugh through the ache.
Goodman, who battled leukemia for much of his adult life, brought a gentle urgency to everything he wrote. Prine, with his gravelly tenderness, brought the grounding weight of someone who had seen enough of the world to know that joy and sorrow often share the same chair. When they sang together, the result was magic — the kind of magic that doesn’t stun you but settles around your shoulders like a familiar old jacket.
In “How Much Tequila,” you can hear the clinking glasses, the worn wooden countertop, the soft shuffle of boots, and underneath it all, the quiet confession that sometimes we lean on small comforts to get us through bigger truths. The humor is light, but the emotion behind it is unmistakable. This is the kind of song that speaks gently to those who have lived long enough to know that laughter and regret often travel as a pair.
What makes the track especially touching today is the knowledge of what time would take away. Goodman left the world far too early, and Prine — after decades of giving us songs that felt like old friends — joined him years later. But when they sang this tune, they were two artists in full bloom, sharing a moment of camaraderie that outlived them both.
For listeners now, especially those who carry memories of old LPs, late-night radio, or concerts in small, smoky rooms, “How Much Tequila” feels like opening a time capsule. Not of fame or spectacle — but of friendship, humor, and the simple truth that music is sometimes the only place where life makes sense.
And so the song remains a gentle toast:
to long roads, to tough days, to bittersweet laughter —
and to the company of two friends who knew how to turn it all into something beautiful.