Imagine a scene in heaven. God has just finished listening to a sublime performance of Mozart’s Requiem Mass, and the angels are quietly drifting out of His presence. Yet he looks strangely unsatisfied. “Mozart,” He says to St Peter, “has rightly been called ‘the lute of God; because he stood in a state of grace, and his music reveals Me to the world. I’m supposed to be omniscient, but when I look at all the beings who make up my creation, I find them a puzzling lot. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t given them free will. Would you please go and see if Stan Rogers has stopped jamming with Woody Guthrie and Muddy Waters. Tell him I want to see him.”

If Mozart was “the lute of God,” I like to think that Stan Rogers was His “acoustic guitar.” Everyone has their favourite artists of course, the ones they listen to time after time, know the words of almost every song and, if a CD got lost or damaged, would be at the store next day to replace it.

There is an annual tribute concert to Rogers at Hugh’s Room in Toronto, a club that promotes folk and country music. For Rogers’ fans, the event is made more poignant by the participation of his widow and stepdaughter, as well as old friends and new musicians performing covers of his songs.

Although Rogers died in 1983, his songs are still beautifully fresh. I often marvel that a country and western or a folk singer can say more penetrating things about the life of common men and women in the space of a four-minute song than many novelists can manage in 400 pages.

Rogers had a beautiful baritone bass voice. He was a great melodist and he composed some supremely beautiful songs. His greatest genius was as a story teller. He could distill the essence of character, life, and situation into one intense and coherent package. There are other great popular artists who can do this and I won’t attempt to give a list. The one who always comes to my mind is Bruce Springsteen.

Although Rogers was just coming into his own when he died at the age of 33, it is unlikely that he would have ever achieved Springsteen’s type of fame. He was too close to the common people. Springsteen is, too. But Rogers was close to the common people of Canada. He understood what it was like for Ontario fishermen to lose their independence and to have to “catch tiny fish for Japan.”

“Flying” tells the story of a Junior A hockey player who was a third round choice in the NHL draft, but who is more likely to end up “selling on commission” and remembering what Springsteen called the glory days. “The Watch” perfectly catches the dehumanization of compulsory retirement: “At 64, you're still the best; One year more, and then you're less/ Than dust upon the floor.” “45 Years” is a poignant affirmation of love and “The Field Behind the Plough” one of his celebrations of the many ordinary men and women who are too courageous to abandon hope, even when every bit of evidence and every ounce of reason says they should.

It’s not surprising that one of most popular songs is “The Mary Ellen Carter.” It tells the story of a ship that sank in a storm. Its owners abandoned it for the insurance money, but its crew, partly for gain and partly out of loyalty, were determined to salvage their ship: “For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale. She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale.”

The song has become Rogers’ anthem, his celebration of the human spirit, his affirmation that, whatever else, human beings should never lose hope. The song ends:

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken And life about to end No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend. Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Could there be better sentiments for the tough economic time Canada is suffering?