In the early ‘90s, Johnny Cash had fallen out of favor with the recording establishment in Nashville. So when Rick Rubin suggested that he get away from the kinds of recordings he had been making and do something simple, it was an easy sell.
The resulting work from these unlikely collaborators was a revelation. Cash’s 1994 album, “American Recordings,” was his best in years, if not his best album ever. Its combination of well-chosen covers and Cash originals in intimate arrangements highlighting Cash’s ragged baritone was haunting and beautiful.
Now, six albums into the series, that would come to simply be called “American,” we are presented with the final album we will ever receive from the Man in Black. “American VI: Ain’t No Grave” is just as beautiful and heart-breaking as that first album. In fact, it is perhaps more poignant knowing that Cash is long dead and can never offer us this kind of artistry again.
This album features the final recordings Cash made just before his death. As Rick Rubin tells it, Cash was shaken by his wife’s death, but with an “unshakable” faith, he set out to offer one last album.
Death seems to hang over “Ain’t No Grave,” but for Cash, an incredibly religious man, this doesn’t seem to be a cause for fear. Opening with the title track and leading right into “Redemption Day,” the album makes it clear that Cash embraced death and the life he expected to find after it.
Still, that didn’t stop him from offering one of his best as his final legacy to American music.
Cash’s voice is more ragged than ever before on this album. Yet, if nothing else, it seems to emphasize the pathos and art that, animate his signature style of singing. An unlikely but fitting selection of covers (from Cheryl Crow to Bob Nolan) indicates Cash’s wide-ranging musical interests, but he transforms these songs into his own indelible recordings.
If we needed a reminder that we lost one of our greatest musical artists when Johnny Cash died, this is certainly it. Apparently animated by the same urgency as, for instance, Warren Zevon’s “The Wind,” “Ain’t No Grave” is a fitting farewell.
However, we run the risk of impoverishing Cash’s final masterpiece if we consider “Ain’t No Grave” as merely his final album. Instead, it might be better to consider the “American” recordings as a set. These are six individual albums, but when listened to together, they form a kind of song cycle of real beauty.
From “Delia’s Gone” on the first album, to his justly famous cover of “Hurt” on American IV, to his heartbreaking interpretation of Lightfoot’s “If I Could Read Your Mind” on American V and finally to this newest recording, the “American” series makes a strong claim on a position as the greatest work of an already great musician.
Many aging artists simply try to rekindle old fires and imitate their former selves. Johnny Cash, on the other hand, underwent a profound transformation. The result was an incredible growth in his artistry.
Maybe Cash was unique. Maybe it was his own talent that allowed him to become the consummate musician that these final recordings place on display so poignantly.
I don’t think so. Perhaps, instead, Cash’s final glories can offer a model to other aging artists. The Man in Black made no apologies for his increasingly weathered voice or for his powerful faith (poignantly on display on “Ain’t No Grave”). Instead, he embraced the possibility of these simple and beautiful recordings. In the end, maybe he didn’t reinvent himself. Instead, he merely let his work evolve as he aged. Other artists might do well to do the same.
All that aside, there is one thing we can say for sure about the “American” series. It is one of the greatest pieces of contemporary music to be produced in this country in the last two decades. If you haven’t heard it or have only heard “Hurt” or “The Man Comes Around,” you owe it to yourself to go out and listen to the rest of Cash’s masterpiece — he will never make more.
You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
