Album Review: The Highwaymen – Highwayman 2

Four years have passed since Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Kris Kristofferson topped the charts with their Highwayman album, produced by Chips Moman. By the late 80s, only Willie remained as a commercially viable artist. Cash’s contract with Columbia was now long gone and he wasn’t exactly rocketing up the charts with Mercury. In fact, in 1989, no new Cash material was released.  

As discussed in my review of Boom Chicka Boom, 1989 wasn’t a great year for Cash. It started well enough, first with recording Highwayman 2, and then his own Boom Chicka Boom. But he also had dental surgery that resulted in a broken jaw – never a good thing for a singer to have. By the end of the year, he was back in rehab, hoping to get his addictions under control again. 1990, thankfully, seemed more promising as these two albums were released a month apart, and for the first time, Cash hit the road with his three compatriots, now formally dubbed the Highwaymen. 

The second Highwaymen album is distinct from the first. The real novelty the first time around was Cash and Nelson finally singing together. As a result, the album went back and forth between group numbers and Cash/Nelson duets. Also, Cash was the only one of the four to bring songs to the table. This time around, however, we have all group numbers and each member contributing their own material. 

How then does it sound? Well, this is still a Chips Moman affair and, despite being more country sounding than the first thanks to more prominent steel guitar, it still has strong middle-of-the-road pop and rock influences. Being recorded in 1989, there are even some nods to the hair metal that was racing up the charts, in the form of glossy, ultra-distorted guitar solos. 

Some of the material here is exactly what you’d want from this group. The first two tracks are straight up outlaw. Silver Stallion was a single and has them all singing about riding off into the sunset. And Born and Raised in Black and White is an epic number, written by two veteran songwriters, Don Cook and John Barlow Jarvis (who were on the verge of major success in the 90s with Brooks & Dunn and Vince Gill respectively). It’s an awesome outlaw song about two brothers facing their destinies, one as a preacher, the other as a gunfighter. The chorus is huge and sounds great with these four voices. Waylon’s sole contribution, Angels Love Badmen, continues the outlaw vibe, but transferred to an urban context. Despite the clean chorus guitars, and wailing guitar solo that typify the slick late 80s sound, it’s a tale of a city banker distanced from his suburban wife, and her inability to resist those men who abandon her. 

Then there’s the wonderful American Remains, by little known songwriter Rivers Rutherford. A story of four characters, this is the spiritual heir to Highwayman’s tale of reincarnation, here speaking of the underdogs who built America. Along the way it tackles Native rights and environmentalism, and then wraps up with the powerful chorus: 

We are heroes of the homeland, American remains. 

We live in many faces and answer many names. 

We will not be forgotten, we won’t be left behind. 

Our memories live on in mortal minds, 

And poets’ pens: 

We’ll ride again. 

Kris’ Living Legends, a song that was a staple live, fits this mold as well. This update to the original from Kris’ 1978 album, Easter Island, is now rocked out with driving electric guitars. The upbeat feel adds zealousness to its social message. It challenges the current state of America, asking if the post-Vietnam nation is living up to the example set in Christ’s death and resurrection: Say, if she came again today, would you still answer the call? Kris also brings Anthem ‘84 to the table, a song that Johnny first attempted in his Johnny Cash is Coming to Town sessions, and it’s another driving political anthem, this time addressing US foreign policy: 

If you’re looking for a fighter who’ll defend you 

And love you for your Freedom. I’m your man. 

And I ain’t gonna leave you for the crazy things you’re doing 

But don’t ask me to lend a helping hand. 

You were such a pretty dream as I remember 

You were young and strong and God was on your side. 

But vision slowly faded like the wonder from your eyes 

And you traded your compassion for your pride. 

But I still believe in all that we believed in. 

And I pray to God that you will in the end. 

And you’ll see the golden chances that you’re wasting. 

And be the loving beauty that you can.  

Cash, too, seems to be on board with this direction. His Songs That Made a Difference is a personal narrative of a 1969 jam session at his home in Nashville with his buddies Kris, Shel Silverstein, and Roy Orbison, but also Laurel Canyon luminaries including Graham Nash, Joni Mitchell, and Bob Dylan. He laments the time when songs were written to change the world. In his telling on Letterman in 1986, that night saw the debut of Both Sides Now, Marrakesh Express, A Boy Named Sue, Lay Lady Lay, and Me and Bobby McGee. (David Letterman’s classic response: “good heavens… did you have snacks?”) 

Between the outlaw and the political material are a few personal songs. We’re All In Your Corner is a cheesy ballad by Chips sideman Bobby Emmons. But Willie Nelson provides some stronger material. Two Stories Wide is a beautiful ballad with all the usual Nelson treatments, notably his nylon string guitar and Mickey Raphael on harmonica. And Texas is a tribute to his homestate, where some of the country sounds overtake Chips’ 80s keyboards. 

As you compare the contributions of these four songwriters, though, you begin to realize the real weakness of the album: despite having even more group vocals than the first album, it’s a somewhat fractured affair. Waylon is still singing outlaw songs about bad boys. Willie’s singing sentimental ballads. Kris has the driving political tunes. And Cash stand somewhere in the middle, as if he’s trying to hold his friends together. I’ll document the companion live album from the 1990 tour below, but these fractures become more apparent in the live format. 

Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find some further weaknesses as well. Despite Chips’ signature studio polish, some of the material feels unfinished. Two Stories Wide has a wonderful melody and interesting metaphor, but it’s hardly more than a verse, a chorus, and a Willie guitar solo. And then there’s that single, Silver Stallion. It starts off well enough, as a tale of an aging cowboy, but then it drops into some awful tropes: 

I’m gonna find me a reckless woman, 

Razor blades and dice in her eyes 

Just a touch of sadness in her fingers, 

Thunder and lightning in her thighs 

Really? Thunder and lightning in her thighs? Yikes. After that second verse (sung by Waylon, who is probably the best one of the four to utter those cringe-inducing lines), the chorus is repeated, and then the song just stops. Like, stops dead as if they totally ran out of inspiration. 

It may simply be however, that they didn’t run out of inspiration, but just ran out of time. The bulk of the album was in fact recorded over 4 days in March of 1989. This might also explain the sytlistic diversity. Chips had his usual studio players on hand – Bobby Emmons, Bobby Wood, Robbie Turner, Gene Chrisman, and Reggie Young – and my guess is they just played to the song. A driving horse song for Waylon? Yep. A rocking political anthem for Kris? Yep. Trad country for Cash? Sure. Laid-back latin-influenced ballad for Willie? You got it. They’re studio pros, but a unified character gets lost. 

In sum, then, I find this album to be a bit of a mixed bag. The group vocals sound fantastic and really carry much of the material. And to a certain point the stylistic diversity keeps things interesting. But there is still some weaker material that pulls down what could have been a collaboration for the ages. I’ll still be generous though… 

4/5 

Other Songs from the Era: 

• Highwaymen Live: Perhaps what’s most amazing about Highwayman 2 is not that there was a follow-up to the first album, but that this time around there was actually a tour. Even better, the March 14, 1990 concert from Nassau was filmed for posterity. The band here is Chips’ studio pros, plus Mickey Raphael, and the live arrangements veer more toward traditional country than the pop leanings of the stduio versions. There are several Highwaymen tunes given the live treatment here: Highwayman, Silver Stallion, The Last Cowboy Song, Two Stories Wide, Living Legend, plus the fun Highwayman 2 outtake, George Jones’ The King is Gone (So Are You). Where this album shines, though, is in the solo material that’s brought to the table. It’s awesome hearing all four of them help out on each others’ hits. My personal fave has to be the definitive version of Cash & Waylon’s Ain’t No Good Chain Gang, thanks to Cash’s hilarious ad libs. But when they’re all singing along to something like City of New Orleans or Good Hearted Woman or On the Road Again, how can you help but smile? My only complaint is directed at Kristofferson. There were rumblings that his political diatribes were rubbing Waylon the wrong way. Whether that’s true or not, he turns virtually all of his songs into straight ahead four-on-the-floor rockers. The persistent drive of these songs matches his personal determination to speak truth, and it works well for one or two songs like They Killed Him or Living Legend. But when it starts extending into Me and Bobby McGee or what might be the greatest song of all time, Help Me Make It Through the Night, he just bulldozes over these sensitive classics. But that’s a minor quibble when you have four great performers with a solid band cranking out over 30 songs for the ages. Wow. Released in abridged format to VHS in 1990 as Highwayman Live, the full concert was released to CD in 2016 as The Highwaymen – Live and is a must purchase for any fan of any of these singers. The CD also contains a bonus DVD with their follow-up Live Aid performances, which I will cover in subsequent reviews. 

Album Review: Johnny Cash – One Piece at a Time

We’ve begun to see Johnny flirt with hot producers in the 70s in search of renewed commercial success, generally with very limited results. As he would continue to do throughout his career, these experiments were generally countered with “a return to the classic Cash sound”.

Lo and behold, we have an album not credited to Johnny Cash but to… Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Three. If you haven’t got the hint, this should be one old-school boom chicka boom album. And, to Cash’s sure delight, this one was marked by a #1 hit… the title track, “One Piece at a Time”. Yay for Cash!

But how does the album actually pan out?

Opening track Let There Be Country serves as a pretty good mission statement for the album. The song indeed brings back, if not the classic Tennessee Three sound, at least the 70s version driven by loping acoustic guitar and boom chicka boom leads. The song is a catchy number that taps into Nashville’s anxieties of the day: Countrypolitan was leaving past superstars in the dust for the first time, and Cash’s recent attempts at commercial success bore this out. The old rural life was changing and country music was beginning to speak to a new urban experience not rooted in farming and the long shadow of the Great Depression that so marks the songs of Cash’s generation. Cash names off a hall of fame-like list of country greats but then argues that the new sounds are ok because today’s new songwriter stepped off a bus into Nashville the same as all those greats did one day a long time ago. Times change, but the tradition continues.

This is clearly Gentleman Cash, then. Looking at the dark days of post-Vietnam America facing a large recession due to the oil crisis, his view is, “everything’ll be ok”. This is nowhere clearer than on Sold Out of Flagpoles, a renewed take on patriotism for Cash (compared to say his America album) in which he again argues that the frightening changes of time are really the same old patterns repeating themselves. This time the musical accompaniment adds Jew’s Harp and mandolin for variety, but the underlying boom chicka boom is a reassuring motif for the worried listener.

Elsewhere, the songs are a bit of a missed bag. In a Young Girl’s Mind is a beautiful ballad drawing on mandocello and harmonica (courtesy of the great Charlie McCoy), yet marked by restraint in its arrangement, drawing the listener close to Johnny’s words. The same can’t be said for Side B’s ballad, Love Has Lost Again, which drowns in syrupy strings. A sad choice, given that Johnny was trying to showcase the songwriting of his daughter Rosanne (yet to be a star herself). Mountain Lady is another laidback tune about the fading down home life that again is swamped by the strings. Oh yeah, and they also dominate an upbeat tune about a freewheeling rich girl, Daughter of a Railroad Man.

Obviously I’m not a fan of overblown arrangements, but the recording of the album is an important step in Cash’s work. He’s now found his own sound in his home studio. The strings are pastoral, and amidst the choral voices, you can clearly hear his wife June in the mix. The basic sound of the Tennessee Three is locked in, and Cash now starts to draw on a broader pool of musicians to fill out the sound. Take the harmonica which is all over this album, clearly drawing on Willie Nelson’s sound.

When the strings aren’t overdone, this has interesting results. Michigan City Howdy Do would be a fabulous outlaw country tune. Drop D lead guitar winds back and forth through the melody like a slithering snake, all to a pretty awesome strutting rhythm that would make Waylon proud. If only the choir didn’t come in on the chorus…

Oh well… almost all is forgiven on the title track One Piece at a Time, which revisits the Boy Named Sue template to tell a humorous tale of a Cadillac built from parts smuggled out of the factory over twenty years. An instant classic. Ironically Boy Name Sue author Shel Silverstein co-wrote opening number Let There be Country, while this Silverstein-by-the-numbers tune is penned by little known writer Wayne Kemp

The highlight of the album, though, is Committed to Parkview. In the midst of the tumultuous 70s post-hippie haze, Johnny tells a compassionate tale of the many patients of a mental institution. He would revisit this tune with the Highwaymen, but the version here is perfect.

That takes us to closing track Go On Blues, which is the closest to the 50s Cash sound we’ve gotten on a studio album in a long while. Again, Cash’s optimism comes to the fore as he sings, “Go on blues, go on lonesome, get your dark clouds off of me”… Classic Cash.

All in all it’s a decent album noted by some real energy from Johnny. He penned over half the songs himself. It was recorded at his home studio. And production was handled by a Nashville outsider – Detroit native Don Davis – assisted by Johnny’s personal engineer Charlie Bragg. Light on contemporary tricks, nods to Cash’s past, and the Man in Black singing a few songs he really cares about. I’m glad this one hit the charts.

4/5

Other songs from the era:

• No Earthly Good – a song Cash returned to many times in the 70s. This version features up-and-comers the Oak Ridge Boys on background vocals with Johnny on lead vocals. From the Oak Ridge Boys’ album Old Fashioned Down Home
• Temptation – the ballad with June that could have made this album. Strange that it remained unreleased given how often they sang the tune live. A worthy successor to Jackson. Released on the Reader’s Digest The Great Seventies Recordings box set.
• One of These Days I’m Going to Sit Right Down and Talk to Paul/Lord, Lord, Lord – two great acoustic gospel songs available on Personal File.
• I Never Got To Know Him Well – another solid acoustic tune available on More Songs from Johnny’s Personal File

Album Review: Man in Black – Johnny Cash

Man in Black

For its title alone, Man In Black, is a classic album as it set in stone the moniker that Cash would use for the rest of his life.  Yet, while it may have created an indelible image for Cash, I’ve always found it to be a less than memorable release.

From start to finish, the album is a clear exposition of how Johnny viewed himself (or at least wished he were perceived) in the early 70’s: following his 40 days… or decade-plus… in the wilderness of addiction, he was now a man of redemption, saved by the grace of God, and the love of his new wife, June.  That said, he was no holy roller. Instead, he was a man of the people, a troubled man himself who could understand the failings of others.

A good starting point, then, is the title track which features at the end of side one.  As Cash piercingly conveys the troubles of modern society, he speaks out against Nashville’s flashiness, stating:

“I’d love to wear a rainbow every day and tell the world that everything’s ok,

But I’ll try to carry off a little darkness on my back, ‘til things are brighter, I’m the man in black.”

Around that tune, Cash pulls the listener in two directions.  On the one hand, he speaks for the weary and downtrodden for whom he casts himself in black.  In Orphan of the Road it’s the wandering son of a “cowboy and a carnie queen” who didn’t stay together more than three nights.  In Ned Kelly, it’s the vicious Australian outlaw hanged at the age of 25, here cast as a victim instead of a villain.  In Dear Mrs., it’s a prisoner waiting for a letter from home, who ultimately dies of loneliness (in many ways a sister tune to Give My Love to Rose).  Talkin’ Vietnam Blues continues the political agenda raised on the earlier Hello, I’m Johnny Cash LP, crying out against the tragedy of war.  Most importantly, on If Not For Love, Cash places himself squarely amongst the hard done by, acknowledging the factors beyond their control which have cast their fate, and recognizing that only the love of a gracious woman has saved himself from a similar end.

The other half of the album is filled with a unique set of gospel tunes.  During the 60s, Cash often included gospel tunes on his releases, but these were generally old-time nuggets, the simple folk hymns from the late 19th century that Cash sang in his youth, or, on occasion, his own compositions.   It is clear from this release, though, that Cash was now running in new religious circles, and it’s a trajectory that would continue through most of his life.  The opening number, The Preacher Said Jesus Said, is unique in Cash’s catalogue.  It opens like a follow-up to What Is Truth – “Well with everybody tryin’ to tell us what to do, You wonder how are you to know whose word is true,” – before the booming voice of Billy Graham bursts in reading the words of Jesus.  If ever two baritones belonged together, it’s Cash and Graham, however, the performance comes across as stilted and awkward.

Cash, however, had had a profound conversion experience when he wandered into a Tennessee cave to die only a few years earlier.  And, while more recent tellings from friends and family confirm that he was not as perfectly transformed as his public image might have conveyed, he obviously resonated with stories of redemption.  Further, the emergence of modern evangelism, and friends like Billy Graham, allowed a context for Cash to express his newfound hope.  Thus, Cash’s own You’ve Got a New Light Shining in Your Eyes expresses this transformation narrative near perfectly.  I Talk to Jesus Everyday is an old Ernest Tubb tune that further emphasizes Johnny’s new dependence on God.  It is Look for Me, however, that is, perhaps the most interesting gospel tune here, in part because of its provenance.  Written by Glen Sherley and Harlan Sanders, Sherley was the perennial convict who wrote Greystone Chapel as recorded by Cash on his Folsom Prison album.  Cash had taken Sherley under his wing, to disastrous results later in the decade.  Sanders was another Folsom inmate, whom it has since been rumoured was the true author of Greystone, and probably the real talent of the two.  Regardless of who wrote what, their contribution here is a comforting song of looking to God for guidance and support, while also a reflection of the apocalyptic theological influence Cash’s spiritual compadres were beginning to have on him.

Despite being an interesting, if not important, album thematically, this one falls flat musically.  In general it follows the pattern set out on Hello, Johnny  Cash: most of the tunes are mid-paced, driven by acoustic rhythm guitar, and gentle, laid-back electric leads.  While Carl Perkins is still featured on this release, there’s none of his fire; instead, he and Bob Wooten are happy to remain in the background.  Likewise, June’s two appearances – Look for Me and I Talk to Jesus – are relegated to harmonies on the choruses, and so we are offered neither their fiery nor romantic interplay.  Last, the production is terrible, which may be due to the fact that Johnny took the helm for the first (and I believe, last, on his own at least) time. Instruments and vocals are often recorded too hot, resulting in unwanted distortion, and a few tracks, particularly You’ve Got a New Light, are victims of wide stereo separation, a mixing practice that most artists wisely dropped by 1966.

In so many ways this album should work – it’s Cash’s statement of his raison d’etre.  Moreover, the album exemplifies the Man in Black so well.  Six of the ten tunes are penned by Cash himself. Others brought together his world of spiritual friends, and struggling companions.  Orphan, in fact, was written by Dick Feller, a struggling songwriter who was apparently relentless in sending new tunes to Cash. As Johnny was no longer the wild rebel of his youth, introducing the Man in Black persona just as he became deeply religious was a stroke of genius, allowing him to be both saint and sinner at the same time.  Yet, this album lacks simply because it is bland.

3/5… 3.5/5 if I’m being generous.

Other Songs from the Era:

• Little Bit of Yesterday – “Our love has been too precious to let it slip away…” This b-side to the Man in Black single is another mid-paced, loping ballad, although a pretty one.  Available on Singles, Plus.
• Song to Mama – a forgettable a-side recorded with the Carter Family. Available on Singles, Plus.
• No Need to Worry/I’ll Be Loving You – A single recorded with June Carter, the a-side is a raucous Southern gospel tune that’s livelier than anything on the Man in Black LP.  This song develops Cash’s 70s gospel leanings even further than the Man in Black LP – Cash would continue to sing hokey tunes like this through the decade, a style that’s still peddled today by groups like the Gaithers.  The b-side, I’ll be Loving You, is perhaps Johnny and June’s best ballad, a sentimental number led by beautiful acoustic guitar work.
• A Front Row Seat to Hear Old Johnny Cash – Shel Silverstein, the writer of A Boy Named Sue and Boa Constrictor, released this novelty single with guest vocals from Cash.  Pure hilarity.
• Children, Go Where I Send Thee (Live in Denmark) – Released on Johnny  Cash’s America (not to be confused with America), this track further highlights Johnny’s immersion into Southern gospel.  The Carters and a wild Carl Perkins make this 6-minute-plus live track an enjoyable listen. The full concert is also available on the Live in Denmark DVD, which is an excellent documentation of a typical early 70s Cash live set.

Album Review: At San Quentin – Johnny Cash

“They say old Johnny Cash works good under pressure… Put the screws on me, and I’ll screw right out from under you… I’m tired of all that [bleep]. .. I’ll tell you what, the show is being recorded and televised for England… they said, you gotta do this song, you gotta do that song, you know, you gotta stand like this, you gotta act like this, and I just don’t get it man, you know? I’m here, I’m here to do what you want me to and what I want to do, all right?”

So goes Johnny’s rambling interaction with an audience of convicts on his second prison album, At San Quentin. Recorded in early 1969 and released later that year, it shows the duality of a man who had just released a full album in tribute to the Holy Land. With the massive success of At Folsom Prison the year earlier, it’s not surprising that Columbia would release a copy-cat cash-in shortly thereafter. What is truly surprising is that At San Quentin stands equally with Folsom, offering deeper insight into Cash the performer, songwriter and man.

Where 1968 had been a bumper year for Johnny, 1969 was far more difficult, largely because of the death of guitarist Luther Perkins in a tragic house fire. Since 1967, though, Cash’s studio and live performances had been augmented by Carl “Blue Suede Shoes” Perkins, a far more virtuosic player than Luther. Nevertheless, it was Luther’s tic-tock shuffle that was crucial to the boom-chicka-boom sound. Ever the professional, though, Cash continued on both in the studio and on stage. Rather than seeking out a Nashville pro, he turned to superfan Bob Wooten, who had once filled in when a travel mix-up prevented Luther from making a gig. Wooten impressed everyone, playing Luther’s riffs note-for-note without missing a beat. At San Quentin, then, marks the debut of Wooten, who would remain in Johnny’s band until his death.

While At San Quentin may be another prison album, it is different in feel from Folsom. First, it’s shorter, offering only 10 tracks (two of which are the same song played again!) compared to Folsom’s sixteen. Second, where Folsom did introduce one new tune (Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart), San Quentin, is loaded with new material, in fact it only offers two-and-a-half hits and one hymn familiar to listeners at the time. Third, there is a lot more audience interaction, with Cash winning his rough-cut audience over one story at a time.

This is the magic of Cash. Yes people love the hits – and I Walk the Line and Wreck of the Old 97 are played wonderfully – but more than anything, they love the man in all his complexity. And so it is that a man, hot of a gospel album, can come into a prison and, yes, sing a few hymns, but also sing tales of love, loss, and murder, and make you somehow feel like he’s just like everyone else in the room.

The set opens with an unreleased Bob Dylan tune that Cash would record a year later for the Little Fauss and Big Halsy movie soundtrack. Wanted Man is brief, catchy tune about a man on the lam, sure to resonate with the crowd. It’s wonderful to hear now guitarist Wooten flub a note on the opening riff, reminding us how nervous he must have been to step into Luther’s shoes. Cash then whips through a couple of hits, and brings out his wife, June Carter Cash, to sing a duet on John Sebastian’s Darlin’ Companion. It’s a cute tune they often sang but never recorded in the studio. It also shows how far Johnny was moving from the Nashville establishment, playing San Francisco hippie music!

Side one closes with Johnny pulling out his acoustic for a solo tune. As the band walks off-stage, Cash continues his conversation with the crowd. He pays tribute to Luther, he jokes about stealing songs, and then he introduces a new song about one of his visits to jail, Starkville City Jail. It’s a simple little story song that plays perfectly to the audience. Cash failed to record this one in the studio too, but you can’t help but sense that this was an offhand song written just for these boys. He asks for the lyric sheet to be brought to him, and he steals the melody from Statler Brother Lee DeWitt’s The Ten Commandments, recoded by Cash earlier in the year. It’s these little moments that make Cash so special.

Side two is even fiercer. He opens with a special tune he wrote just for the concert, San Quentin, which he calls out to the stone walls around him, “San Quentin may you rot and burn in hell.” The crowd loves the song so much, he plays it again. When’s the last time you saw a performer do that? Cash quips, “I kind of like it myself, now,” and then turns to a new lyric by comedian-poet Shel Silverstein that Cash put to music. A Boy Named Sue is absolutely ridiculous, but where his Boa Constrictor – on Everybody Loves a Nut – was a throwaway tune on a lightweight comedy album, this time round their collaboration makes for a poignant moment. It’s full of laughs, yet full of truth, the story of a hard-knocked boy facing up to his deadbeat father and finding an ounce of respect.

The crowd hollering, Cash then draws them into a moment of inspiration, singing the reverential Peace in the Valley with Carl Perkins and the Carter Family helping out. With a partial run through Folsom Prison Blues, Cash greets the prisoners still in their cell, and Johnny’s on his way. It’s a quick 35-minute album, but perfect from start to finish.  It is also a testament to the lean sound new producer Bob Johnston was helping Cash find, after years of over-production.

5/5

Notes on Subsequent Reissues:

• At San Quentin (The Complete 1969 Concert) (Released 2000): This version was actually my introduction to the album, and it’s a fine one-disc version. Expanded to 18 tracks, it fills in many of the gaps. The songs are restored to their original running order, namely by moving Wanted Man to the middle of the set. Big River and I Still Miss Someone are revealed as Cash’s true openers, and an unreleased song, I Don’t Know Where I’m Bound” is added to the acoustic set. We’re also given five closing songs that were cut: Folsom Prison Blues-Ring of Fire-He Turned the Water Into Wine-Daddy Sang Bass-The Old Account Was Settled Long Ago. On the one hand we’re given a few more hits, but we’re also given a gospel set. Ring of Fire is a little strange with the trumpet parts sung by the Carters, but the gospel set is marvelous. He tells stories from Israel in a far more natural way than on The Holy Land, and you can imagine how these songs of spiritual longing and grace would have spoken to the men of San Quentin. Last, the closing number is unedited, adding energetic contributions from the whole band to medley that not only included the previously released Folsom, but also snippets of I Walk the Line, Ring of Fire, and the Rebel Johnny Yuma. If you’re going to buy one version of the album, this would be my pick.
• At San Quentin (Legacy Edition) (Released 2006): The title of the first reissue is a bald-faced lie. One evening I stumbled across a documentary of Cash at San Quentin which included Orange Blossom Special, a tune not on “the Complete 1969 Concert.” Lo and behold, a few years later a 2-disc box set emerged which added even more tunes. Here then we have the actual “complete concert.” This version adds a Long Black Veil/Give My Love to Rose medley, his yet-unreleased single Blistered plus two more hits, Jackson and, of course, Orange Blossom Special. If you already have At Folsom Prison, then you’re really only missing a live version of Blistered. It’s a lively tune, a lot of fun, but not entirely essential. Elsewhere, we get the contributions of Carl Perkins, the Statler Brothers, and the Carter Family. Carl’s guitar shines on all three of his contributions – Blue Suede Shoes, Restless, and the fabulous instrumental Outside Looking In. As for the Statler Brothers, I’ve never been fond of their Southern Gospel style, so I usually skip their tunes, despite fine Carl’s fine guitar on Glen Campbell’s Less of Me. In my mind, though, it’s the Carters who shine, not only because of their stellar version of Wildwood Flower, but because of their interactions with the crowd. Cash had a formidable physique and could certainly hold his own, but imagine these beautiful women in their puffy skirts getting up in front of a roomful of sex-starved men. June, though, teases them and turns them to putty in her hands in two short minutes. Hearing her work the crowd is sheer delight. Ultimately, though, this edition is for completists only. It’s also packaged with that documentary I saw on TV that time, although it’s not something most people would watch more than once.

A note on censorship: Johnny cusses at times, and the original 10-track album employs bleeps. The two reissues are uncensored, so parents take note.

Album Review: Everybody Loves a Nut – Johnny Cash

I write this the day after Cowboy Jack Clement’s death.  As the man who had the bright idea to hit record when the Million Dollar Quartet assembled in Sam Phillip’s Sun Studios, and later thought, “why don’t we add some trumpets to Ring of Fire,” his influence on Johnny Cash’s career, to say nothing of music as a whole, is undeniable.  It’s fitting, then, that today’s review turns to Cash’s 1966 comedy album, Everybody Loves a Nut, which features four Clement compositions. This review is dedicated to The Cowboy.

Nut couldn’t be further from Cash’s previous release, the expansive double-LP Sings Ballads of the True West.  On Everybody Loves a Nut, Cash offers eleven light-hearted tunes that demonstrate his deep sense of humour.  As his previous releases, and especially live sets, reveal, though, while Cash was massively funny, he often had a dark edge – the “funny” song on Ballads was a Shel Silverstein tune about a man getting hanged.  For Nut, recorded at the height of his drug abuse, Cash’s state of mind in 1966 contributes to the sense of danger that pervades the album.  The sound, however, is upbeat and happy.  Most songs move along with the Tennessee Three’s boom-chicka-boom sound, and well-placed backing vocals by the Carter Family.  The signature sound of the album, though, is the Cowboy’s acoustic guitar which  is highlighted throughout.

The songs, too, highlight Clement’s wonderful humour, most notably on the opening two tracks, Everybody Loves a Nut, and the second, The One On The Right is On the Left.  Everbody sets the tone for the album, with the Carter family singing “Everybody loves a nut/the whole world loves a weirdo/brains are in a rut, but/everybody loves a nut” over a spritely barroom piano.  The One on the Right was the single from the album, and served as a hilarious, timely send-up of the many politically divisive folk groups of the era.  Take Me Home has a catchy chorus, but is ultimately a lesser version of I’ve Been Everywhere.  Dirty Old Egg Sucking Dog – which Cash played to perfection on At Folsom Prison – is dead, perfect, a brief, hilarious tribute to a man’s troublesome hound.

Cash attempts a few compositions of his own on this release, too.  The Bug That Tried to Crawl Around the World – any guesses what this song’s about – is either pure silliness, or the delirious result of his drug dependency.  Austin Prison, a song of a murderer’s trial and subsequent escape, is short on humour, but a good representation of Cash’s rebellious spit and fire.  Not quite Folsom Prison, but a worthy addition to his prison song repertoire.  Please Don’t Play Red River Valley is a dead hilarious tale of the tiresome process of learning to play harmonica.

The rest of the material is drawn from a variety of sources.  Ramblin’ Jack Elliott’s Cup of Coffee features the composer’s yodeling on top of Cash’s drunk rambling.  The Singing Star’s Queen uses a Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star motif to lead to a glorious punchline about cheating with another singer’s girl.  Boa Constrictor is Cash’s second Shel Silverstein recording.  After 1965’s 25 Minutes to Go, he’s now singing about being eaten by a snake.  Cash’s less-than-lucid state of mind at the time likely enabled this fabulously ridiculous delivery – there’s none other like it in his catalogue.  The crowning achievement, though, is Joe Bean.  Yet another hanging song, the Carter Family’s sweet harmonies end the album on a twisted note that’s absolutely perfect.

Overall, this is an enjoyable album with a classic single.  The arrangements are reserved, lacking the syrupy strings and bombastic choruses of other releases of the era.  Strangely, though, the recording quality seems lacking at times.  Perhaps Cash’s substance abuse led to less-than-ideal recording questions.  Also, while he has many fine vocal performances on this album, at times his drunken drawl can become wearisome.  A good album, but not a knock-out classic.

4/5

Other Songs from the Era:

• Cotton Pickin’ Hands – A non-descript mid-paced song about life on the cotton farms, which serve as the b-side to The One on the Right…. Available on Singles, Plus.
• Bottom of a Mountain – A great tale of life as a miner featuring, appropriately enough, the Carter Family.  Even features those Jack Clement mariachi trumpets.  Released as the b-side to Boa Constrictor.  Available on Singles, Plus.
• The Frozen Logger – A spritely take on this classic folk song. This tale could inspire an episode of CSI. Available on Bootleg Vol. II.
• Foolish Questions –A strange little song about those people you know who ask stupid questions. Available on Bootleg Vol. II.
• Concerning Your New Song – A Western-sounding ballad with gorgeous mandocello, as Johnny narrates a musician’s rejection of a fan’s submission of a song.  Cash must have received thousands of these over the years. Available on Bear Records compilations.
• The Sound of Laughter – A barroom belter that makes for a classic murder ballad. Finally released on Murder.
• Flushed From the Bathroom of Your Heart – Johnny sang a great acoustic version of this on At Folsom Prison, but here it’s presented in full-band format complete with dobro.  A comedy song that would have fit well on Everybody Loves a Nut, this was left unreleased until the compilation album A Boy Named Sue and Other Story Songs was released.

Album Review: Sings the Ballads of the True West – Johnny Cash

With 1965’s Sings the Ballads of the True West, we come to the end of Johnny’s run of top-notch studio recordings for Columbia. Sonically it is a fitting end. Where Blood, Sweat and Tears, Ring of Fire, I Walk the Line, Bitter Tears, and Orange Blossom Special all feature the magic combination of the Tennessee Three’s sound augmented by the Carter Family (and the Statler Brothers), the bookends – 1962’s The Sound of Johnny Cash and, now, Ballads – feature a more acoustic, folksy sound which highlights these narratives of life in the West.

As with his other concept, Cash obviously poured his heart and soul into producing this double album, whose goal was to give an accurate depiction of life in the west. As with Ride This Train, he opens with an aboriginal perspective of the settling of the wild west in Hiawatha’s vision:

The man with bearded faces, the men with skin so fair

With their barking sticks of thunder drove the remnants of our people

Farther westward, westward, westward then wild, wild and wilder

Grew the west that once was ours

From there, Cash paints a picture of the West as one of trials, sadness, and death. These are themes he had already explored in the Rebel – Johnny Yuma EP and songs like Hank and Joe and Me. Here, though, he gives them unprecedented coverage. Apart from the boom-chicka-boom sound on 25 Minutes to Go, there is little on this album that could be called country music; instead, Cash gives us Western tunes through and through.

With 20 songs in all, as well as six inter-song dialogues, there is a lot for the listener to wade through. Many of the songs are enjoyable on their own, but the album is best enjoyed like Cash’s other concept records, listened to attentively from start to finish.

The songs cover a wide variety of topics: the dangers settlers faced (Road to Kaintuck, Sweet Betsy from Pike), cowboy life (I Ride an Old Paint, Stampede), the violent life of outlaws (Hardin Wouldn’t Run, Sam Hall, 25 Minutes), the comforting role of religion (Letter from Home), political assassinations (Mr. Garfield), and the Civil War (1959’s Ballad of Boot Hill – originally released on the Johnny Yuma EP – and Johnny Reb).

The music at time veers into schmaltz, be it the syrupy strings on the Shifting Whispering Sands, or the bombastic harmonies of the Statler Brothers (never my favourite in Cash’s music), although both would have been fitting in a Western movie soundtrack of the day. Even still, what remains is beautiful – a largely acoustic soundtrack that creates a great deal of space for Cash to growl out these stories in his deepest baritone.

Looking at the album as a whole, two features in particular stand out. First, is the incredible contribution of Bob Johnson, here playing 12-string guitar, mandocello, flute and banjo, each of which provide that real Western air to the album. Second, is the dark humour only Cash could make work. The majority of these tales end in death – take for example the narrator of Blizzard who freezes to death steps from safety because he waits loyally beside his friend who could walk no further – and yet Cash makes you truly want to inhabit these places. As he draws you into his world, you begin to side with the brutal criminal in Sam Hall, laugh at the gallows in Shel Silverstein’s 25 Minutes To Go, and cheer for the wife who kicks out her husband, even after he helped her fight through the desert on their settlers’ journey in Sweet Betsy.

In the closing Reflection, Cash states his intention was to help the audience, “Ponder on the things that happened as we gazed so very briefly… seeing now the West as it really was.” In many ways, then, he succeeds. The Shifting, Whispering Sands (a simplified remix of an unreleased 1962 recording which originally featured Lorne Green) evokes the beauty of the deserted ranch Cash often retreated to in this era. Equally, Mean as Hell is a witty narrative about the making of the west by the Devil, who put hell in everything :

He began by putting thorns all over the trees

He mixed up the sand with millions of fleas

He scattered tarantulas along the road

Put thorns on cactus and horns on toad

As with Cash himself, the West was a complex, contradictory beast. Violent, religious, free, and yet oppressive. Johnny would revisit many of these songs throughout his career, likely because in the West he saw the fullness of America, both its hope and its terror.

Looking at the photo on the cover, you can see the toll drug abuse was taking on him, and by the next year his releases would sound worn out and exhausted. Thankfully, he had the energy to invest his all into this labour of love.

4.5/5

Note: The Legacy CD release of this album was designed to be released as 26 tracks with the narratives separated out from the musical numbers. An error was made when it went to press, resulting in a 20-track release. This has been corrected in the 2012 mono version included with the Complete Columbia Collection.

Other songs from the era:

• Mean as Hell! – With an expensive double album on their hands, Columbia re-cut the album as a 12-song single release. With many of the narratives removed, it loses Cash’s larger vision, although as an album it works surprisingly well.
• Rodeo Hand – An outtake from the sessions (and another Peter LaFarge tune which would have complemented Stampede), this is a boom-chicka-boom tune that is about exactly what the title suggests. Sam Hall was a better choice for a mid-album lift. Available on the Legacy Edition of Ballads.
• Stampede (Instrumental) – The album take is dominated by vocals. This minute-long version highlights the fabulous musicians backing Cash up with a banjo-led romp. Available on the Legacy Edition of Ballads.
• Cattle Call/Bill’s Theme – In 1965 the Tennessee Three released another instrumental 45.  Cattle Call is an upbeat tune driven by W.S. Holland’s shuffling drums. A sax fills out the melody (Boots Randolph again), but also begins to take it into lounge-act territory.  Bill’s Theme is similar, although Luther’s lead sticks out better, complete with uncharacteristic harmonics.  These were recorded in the Ballads… sessions as were some of the early material that would wind up on Everybody Loves a Nut. Available on Bear Records compilations.
• The Sons of Katie Elder – Cash sang this theme to the famous John Wayne film. It wasn’t included in the movie, but is on the soundtrack. Big and bombastic, as you’d expect a John Wayne theme to be. Available on Singles, Plus.
• A Certain Kinda Hurtin’ – the b-side to Katie Elder, this is a mid-paced tearjerker featuring barroom piano and (unusual for Cash) whistling. A typical 60’s country-pop tune, with a fine vocal. Available on Singles, Plus.
• Thunderball – Yes, Cash actually recorded a theme song to a James Bond movie. We’re lucky it was ditched. Musically, it sounds close to Katie Elder. Available on Bootleg Vol. II.
• One Too Many Mornings – Sometime in ’65 Cash took a stab at this unreleased Dylan song. It’s a great acoustic reading, likely left unreleased because it didn’t fit any of his albums at the time. That fact that Dylan was sharing unreleased songs with him, though, shows how close they must have been.
• Kleine Rosemarie/Besser So Jenny-Joe – Cash’s first 1965 single recorded for Germany features two songs he never recorded in English.  Both are upbeat love songs featuring the boom-chicka-boom sound, augmented with German-sounding accordion and anonymous choral vocals.  Neither are particularly well recorded and both are forgettable. Available on Bear Records compilations.
• In Virginia/Wer Kennt Der Weg – The second German single from 1965 continues the pattern of the first.  In Virginia is an ode to home that, again, Cash doesn’t seem to have recorded in English.  The sound is akin to Rosemarie and Jenny-Joe.  The b-side, is a German vocal slapped on top of Columbia’s existing backing track for I Walk the Line.  The backing vocals are particularly bad. Available on Bear Records compilations.