Johnny Cash performs at the Von Braun Civic Center in 1980. Cash was also the first artist to ever perform at the Huntsville, Alabama, arena, back in 1975. Credit: The Huntsville Times/ File via TNS
“And you can have it all — my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.”
It’s difficult to read these lyrics from “Hurt” — the second song on Johnny Cash’s 2001 album “American IV: The Man Comes Around” — without practically hearing the renowned singer-songwriter’s arrestingly deep, world-weary voice.
The country legend didn’t pen the threnody, but Cash’s rendition boasts more streams than the original by Nine Inch Nails on Spotify, proving to be his most-streamed recording ever.
Though many of Cash’s previous albums largely comprise covers, he could still write a compelling song in his last act. “Songwriter” — an aptly-titled, posthumous album released Friday and comprised entirely of Cash’s own compositions — highlights his innate talent as a songsmith.
Cash’s son John Carter Cash spearheaded and co-produced the project with David Ferguson after unearthing 11 unreleased Cash demos recorded in 1993. Stripped down to Cash’s voice and acoustic guitar, the skeletons of the songs were overlaid with contributing artists’ — including Marty Stuart, David Roe, Dan Auerbach and Waylon Jennings — music and harmonies.
At times, Cash’s lyricism and vocals are overshadowed by excessive overlays. The uncharacteristically spacey synth, melodramatic strings and weird vocal echoes distract from Cash’s vision of global salvation on the album’s first track, “Hello Out There.”
The proceeding track, “Spotlight,” is similarly dimmed by overindulgent production. It’s full of pointed, gorgeous lyrics — “Let your magic velvet hue bathe me in a gentle blue,” Cash warbles to the spotlight, imploring it to conceal his tears as he takes to a stage — but, unfortunately, it’s his vivid lyricism that’s washed over by the ill-fitting, bluesy electric guitar groove and whining organ.
Even so, for the most part, Carter Cash and Ferguson did fine work dressing up these demos, allowing Cash to shine as a writer and performer. As with many of his classics, love and laughter are guiding forces in his lyricism. On “Well Alright” — the album’s sixth track — he chuckles to himself as he recounts a laundromat flirtation, and his grin is likewise audible as he recalls his home state’s beautiful women and “100-pound watermelons” on the picturesque ballad “Have You Ever Been to Little Rock?”
Even on “Sing It Pretty Sue,” a narration of a man abandoned by a lover named Sue who is pursuing songstress fame, Cash’s lyrics are steeped in utmost tenderness.
“I’ll try to be excited about the progress that you’ve made,” he sighs, knowing that no matter how many of Sue’s pictures and records he collects, he’ll “just be one of millions who’ll give the praise” she receives.
Such pure, abiding love seems to be not only the throughline of “Songwriter,” but also the compass of Cash’s life.
“I’m just thankful that I’ve survived the battles and that the spoils of my victory is you,” he sings on “Like a Soldier,” almost inarguably addressing his wife and fellow singer-songwriter, June Carter Cash.
This ever-idolized love of Cash’s life also inspired rollicking serenade “Poor Valley Girl” and reflective ballad “I Love You Tonite.” The latter in particular possesses a timelessness akin to that of Neil Young’s classic, “Harvest Moon;” it’s the type of love song a listener could imagine themself and the twin flame they hope to find dancing to in old age, claiming as their song.
Listening to the track with awareness of Cash and June Carter Cash’s deaths — and knowing that they remained together until death did them part — how can one not get a little misty-eyed as Cash croons, “When it’s all over, I hope we will go together. I don’t want to be alone, you know”?
Soaking in these odes’ twangy warmth, it’s easy to believe Cash’s every word of adoration. He sure could write a love song. On the other hand, he could write a great murder ballad, with one such example being his staple “Folsom Prison Blues,” first recorded in 1955, in which he sings about shooting a man “just to watch him die.”
Cash never did that, of course, but it’s hard not to buy what he’s saying for a few minutes — surely, he was an adept and engaging storyteller — and “Songwriter” illuminates his narrative ability.
In addition to his distinctly captivating drawl, empathy is a key component of Cash’s capacity to take listeners along whatever ride he’s going on. Take “Drive On” — a thumping tune in which he embodies a Vietnam veteran — and “Soldier Boy” — which follows a fledgling soldier who “won’t be a boy no more after what [he’s] going for” — for example; they’re as catchy as they are heartfelt reflections of everyday Americans’ humanity.
Perhaps his most sensitive character sketch on “Songwriter” is the subject of “She Sang Sweet Baby James.” A struggling single mother, “she” — like Cash’s soldiers, veterans and heartbroken fanboys — is thoroughly human, possessing her own distinct sorrows and comforts, doubts and dreams. Her primary solace in life is quite simple: singing along to James Taylor.
For many individuals over the last six-plus decades, Cash has embodied Taylor’s role. Through his music, he’s been a nearly tangible voice of understanding, an enthralling raconteur and a beacon of authenticity.
Maybe that’s why so many listeners have stuck with Cash throughout his dabbles in rootsy rock, gospel hymns and genre-traversing covers. Though the tunes on “Songwriter” would not have been as career-shifting as his Rubin collaborations had they been released 30 years ago, they are certainly welcome additions to Cash’s sprawling discography.
John Carter Cash said in an interview with Universal Music Enterprises that the album “[reminds] him of who [his] father was,” and it should remind listeners of who the legendary figure was, too — a doting husband, riveting storyteller, God-gifted vocalist and, yes, an excellent songwriter.
Rating: 4/5
