THE ESSENTIAL JOHNNY CASH; Columbia Country Classics; 3 compact discs, booklet of essays on the singer, photos and a discography; C3K 47991;
In 1960, Johnny Cash turned 28. Fast living had already put many miles on him, however, and his stone-ground voice made him seem - even then - like an elder statesman - a kind of hillbilly patriarch of our heartaches and hard times.Today, many readers will be amazed to learn Cash just barely turned 60. It seems he's been with us forever.
You get that impression, anyway, after listening to this boxed set of Cash recordings. Columbia is calling this collection "The Essential Johnny Cash," but it's possible to argue a good many of these 75 cuts are not only "non-essential," but are hardly worth hearing. Still, fans will come away with a pretty good sense of both the singer and his vocation.
The collection is notable for what it contains - and also what it's missing.
Many people are amazed to see Garth Brooks do so well on both the country and pop charts, as if cross-over music were a 1990 invention. They'll be shocked again to learn that a good dozen Johnny Cash releases scored on both charts. "I Walk the Line" was Top 20 in pop and country (1956), as were "Ballad of a Teenage Queen," "Home of the Blues" and many, many others.
Cash has played to a large audience. And he and his audience have changed over the years - though not as much as you might think.
Listening to this set in one sitting, in fact, is much like watching time-lapse photography; before your eyes the industry matures, recording techniques become more subtle and the singer himself matures and expands his range. Ticking through hits like "Folsom Prison Blues" (both the studio and live versions), "Big River," "A Boy Named Sue," "The Ballad of Ira Hayes" and "One Piece at a Time" is like a sprint down memory lane. And by the end of CD No. 3, you've got a pretty good fix on things.
To begin with, it quickly becomes apparent that Cash - like Carl Sandburg, Ernest Hemmingway and other "common-man champions" - slowly evolves into a dry-eyed parody of himself. Toward the end, he is no longer Johnny Cash, but Johnny Cash doing Johnny Cash.
The best example is the song "Man in Black." For decades Cash has dressed in black for his shows. According to this little ditty (written by Cash), the black outfit is for all the people who feel estranged in life - "for the sick and lonely old, for the reckless ones whose bad trips left them cold. . . ," etc., etc.
Bull.
Like Chaplin's moustache and George Burns' cigar, Cash's black outfit has simply become his costume, a theater prop to help a man play a larger-than-life version of himself.
Still, to be fair, no one does Johnny Cash better than Johnny Cash. Whether he's steering his way through Bruce Springsteen's "Highway Patrolman" or tossing off one of the half-dozen truly hilarious novelty numbers he's recorded, the singer proves himself to be both a cultural icon and a voice for our times.
It is difficult to imagine country music without him. In fact, it's difficult to imagine America without him.