#7
The Finest Cowboy Album Ever Recorded
The Finest Cowboy Album Ever Recorded
It is hard to believe, looking at those leather-lined cheeks and suntanned, golf-bag skin, that country legend Johnny Cash was a mere 33 years of age when this staggering album was released.
Despite this difficulty, I’d like y’all to believe it, since it happens to be quite veracious. Of all the American history lessons recorded by Cash in the 1960s, this album eclipses most of his valiant efforts. Here the wildest musician ever to set foot in San Quentin Prison and rouse a bunch of murderers and rapists, sings a collection of traditional numbers and tunes reinterpreted (and thus improved) by him.
Despite this difficulty, I’d like y’all to believe it, since it happens to be quite veracious. Of all the American history lessons recorded by Cash in the 1960s, this album eclipses most of his valiant efforts. Here the wildest musician ever to set foot in San Quentin Prison and rouse a bunch of murderers and rapists, sings a collection of traditional numbers and tunes reinterpreted (and thus improved) by him.
Since Cash felt closer to the feral, dangerous spirit of the outlaw, it isn’t much of an effort for him to summon up the ghosts of great cowboys and wild west figures, and channel the spirit of the true west through him as though it was mixed into his very blood. It is difficult to think of a country singer closer to the spirit of the wild west than the indestructible Man In Black.Sings The Ballads of the True West is perhaps the most personal, wrenching album ever recorded by the great man, and is a blend of classic country and folk music, spoken-word narrative and mournful balladry from the deepest and rawest baritone ever to give his soul to the land. The mixture of these components is sublime, and unlike some of his spoken-word lessons, such as Ride This Train or Bitter Tears: Ballads of the American Indian the blend of these components is absolutely perfect.
What is quite incredible about this album is that Cash was at the time addicted to amphetamines, involved in a divorce and legal cases, increasingly violent in his behaviour and touring America more than Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen put together. Midst all this mess came this beautiful record, sparked from an idea by legendary producer Bob Johnson, and it is one of the best albums about wild west mythology, the endurance of the land, death and the spiritual wonderment of the American desert.
Selections
The Shifting, Whispering Sands Part 1 (2:54)
Instead of the pretentious undertones that a spoken-word piece implies, this narrative tale is beautifully assembled with glorious (and anonymous) string arrangements and sublime backing vocals from The Carter Family. Like so many of these tunes, they are personal ruminations on death, and when he wrote the lyrics Cash was on the site of an Indian burial ground, gazing up at the stars in one of his sulkier moods (by his standards, in good spirits).
Selections
The Shifting, Whispering Sands Part 1 (2:54)
Instead of the pretentious undertones that a spoken-word piece implies, this narrative tale is beautifully assembled with glorious (and anonymous) string arrangements and sublime backing vocals from The Carter Family. Like so many of these tunes, they are personal ruminations on death, and when he wrote the lyrics Cash was on the site of an Indian burial ground, gazing up at the stars in one of his sulkier moods (by his standards, in good spirits).
The solemnity and beauty of that introspective and spiritual night way out west is perfectly captured here, and it is a wonderful evocation of the endurance of the land reminiscent to me of English folk music at times. The strings sound just like the wind passing and flowing across a tranquil and mournful desert, and the romanticism oozes from the speakers like in some old Scots kailyard novel.
The Ballad of Boot Hill (3:48)
Written by Carl Perkins, like so many great tunes from Cash, this has another short spoken-word intro and is about a graveyard in Arizona commemorating the fallen and forgotten dead of a town called Tombstone. This piece is a 3/4 country shuffle with emotive vocals from The Anita Kerr Singers and gentle piano accompaniment help to comfort the hauntingly bleak vocal from Cash about a whole lot of needless slaughter.
The Ballad of Boot Hill (3:48)
Written by Carl Perkins, like so many great tunes from Cash, this has another short spoken-word intro and is about a graveyard in Arizona commemorating the fallen and forgotten dead of a town called Tombstone. This piece is a 3/4 country shuffle with emotive vocals from The Anita Kerr Singers and gentle piano accompaniment help to comfort the hauntingly bleak vocal from Cash about a whole lot of needless slaughter.
This tune, like so many ballads the album, gets under your skin after several listens, and its emotional impact is probably among the most visceral and powerful I have heard on a record of late. The universal nature of the subject matter, especially the pieces on death and the forgotten dead, make it a tender experience and doubly moving through the gravel-toned otherworldliness of Cash.
Mr. Garfield (4:35)
The record serves up gallows humour in spurts as well. Cash places his allegiance at times so closely to the outlaws that up tempo pieces such as this almost appear mocking and vicious in their tone. It is an enjoyable traditional piece adapted from a separate tune from folk singer Jack Elliot about the shooting of a President named after a spotted ginger kitten. The verses veer from bouncy speech-singing over acoustic guitars to pieces of humorous and rambling narrative.
Mr. Garfield (4:35)
The record serves up gallows humour in spurts as well. Cash places his allegiance at times so closely to the outlaws that up tempo pieces such as this almost appear mocking and vicious in their tone. It is an enjoyable traditional piece adapted from a separate tune from folk singer Jack Elliot about the shooting of a President named after a spotted ginger kitten. The verses veer from bouncy speech-singing over acoustic guitars to pieces of humorous and rambling narrative.
The presence of The Statler Brothers as well as The Carter Family makes it impossible to dislike, and these lighter pieces help break up the weighty subject matter of the album before it gets too gloomy. Luther Perkins provides most of the electric guitar on the album, and although it is harder to spot than the other instrumentation, his skills are worth a quick mention.The Streets of Laredo (3:39)
A traditional British tune, adapted for the wild west, this is tailor-made for Cash, a mournful number about a cowpoke approaching his death and looking back on his many, many wrongs. The liner notes on the 2002 remaster here include the original track-by-track notes from Cash, far superior to these meagre opinions, as well as a three paragraphs from music journo Jonny Whiteside. He deserves italics as well, believe me.
Western lingo is also explained, some of which is absent from the songs but fun to know nonetheless. The chorus boasts perhaps the lowest note on the musical scale and Cash makes the most of the emotive twist towards the end as he sings (practically in the grave himself): "Beat the drum slowly, play the pipe lowly, we bitterly wept as we tore him along."
The Blizzard (3:53)
Perhaps my favourite ballad on the album, this is a lingering piece with some wonderful harpsichord work (yes, that’s right) from Bill Pursell and perfect backing as always from June and co. Cash had just started his infamous relationship with June Carter around this time which no doubt explains some of the romance he let creep into songs like this. It is the increasingly troublesome lament from the moribund trekkers at the chorus that makes this so emotive and sumptuous, and once more the backing vocals lift the piece into divine territory.
The Blizzard (3:53)
Perhaps my favourite ballad on the album, this is a lingering piece with some wonderful harpsichord work (yes, that’s right) from Bill Pursell and perfect backing as always from June and co. Cash had just started his infamous relationship with June Carter around this time which no doubt explains some of the romance he let creep into songs like this. It is the increasingly troublesome lament from the moribund trekkers at the chorus that makes this so emotive and sumptuous, and once more the backing vocals lift the piece into divine territory.
As expected, things don’t end with a happy resolution but Cash serves up the bitter dramatic irony which is probably more realistic in the wild west. It is a beautiful tune about the kinship of the cowboys on the trail – and indeed friendship – although it’s perhaps not very sympathetic towards Marianne, poor lass. She’d better dial up Wild West Widows at once.
Green Grow The Lilacs (2:47)
Cash sounds the most worse for wear on this jaded lament, with his voice moving from a lovesick tremble to a heartless croon wrapped in a veil of bitter tears for love lost. Maybelle Carter plays the autoharp which is a fabulous instrument with button-control dampers that allows it to be controlled with the foot and plucked with a plectrum. Rather like a zither, but a much more high-class piece of equipment. This piece shuffles along with a palpable sense of despair and hope, erring somehow to the latter but ending on a woozy perfect cadence.
The Rest
The spoken-word pieces which bookend the album are both of equal magnitude, with the first-rate poetry of Reflections perhaps surpassing the historical clout of Hiawatha’s Vision, taken from a Henry Longfellow poem. Mean As Hell is a stranger piece on the whole, something that flirts with becoming a song but remains entirely spoken-word for its duration. It is an affectionate sketch of the west, nonetheless, and has finer characterisation than the entire back catalogue of Sam Peckinpah.
The Road To Kaintuck was composed by June Carter and is one of the more enjoyable and fun-filled pieces on the record, with its winding and bouncy chord sequence, eclipsing the brooding dirge Hardin’ Wouldn’t Run; the lone Johnny Cash composition on the album. I Ride An Old Paint is well known in American songbooks, I believe, and this version one of the most breathtaking ballads on here, especially with the unaccredited strings backing the melancholic lead vocal.
Johnny Reb is about the American Civil War (1861-85, North vs. South) and would seem to feature an unmentioned keyboard tingle which is odd, as well as Bob Johnson on a four-string lute and some fine military drumming from W.S. Holland. A Letter From Home and Stampede are more conventional wild west pieces but importantly sketch the side of the prairie from the side of both women at home and cattle drivers.
The nastiest moment of the record comes from the viperous Sam Hall, sang from the first-person perspective of a psychotic gunman; whom Cash portrays with just a little too much realism. It’s a pretty frightening listen, especially with that rattlesnake hissing up his throat.
Green Grow The Lilacs (2:47)
Cash sounds the most worse for wear on this jaded lament, with his voice moving from a lovesick tremble to a heartless croon wrapped in a veil of bitter tears for love lost. Maybelle Carter plays the autoharp which is a fabulous instrument with button-control dampers that allows it to be controlled with the foot and plucked with a plectrum. Rather like a zither, but a much more high-class piece of equipment. This piece shuffles along with a palpable sense of despair and hope, erring somehow to the latter but ending on a woozy perfect cadence.
The Rest
The spoken-word pieces which bookend the album are both of equal magnitude, with the first-rate poetry of Reflections perhaps surpassing the historical clout of Hiawatha’s Vision, taken from a Henry Longfellow poem. Mean As Hell is a stranger piece on the whole, something that flirts with becoming a song but remains entirely spoken-word for its duration. It is an affectionate sketch of the west, nonetheless, and has finer characterisation than the entire back catalogue of Sam Peckinpah.
The Road To Kaintuck was composed by June Carter and is one of the more enjoyable and fun-filled pieces on the record, with its winding and bouncy chord sequence, eclipsing the brooding dirge Hardin’ Wouldn’t Run; the lone Johnny Cash composition on the album. I Ride An Old Paint is well known in American songbooks, I believe, and this version one of the most breathtaking ballads on here, especially with the unaccredited strings backing the melancholic lead vocal.
Johnny Reb is about the American Civil War (1861-85, North vs. South) and would seem to feature an unmentioned keyboard tingle which is odd, as well as Bob Johnson on a four-string lute and some fine military drumming from W.S. Holland. A Letter From Home and Stampede are more conventional wild west pieces but importantly sketch the side of the prairie from the side of both women at home and cattle drivers.
The nastiest moment of the record comes from the viperous Sam Hall, sang from the first-person perspective of a psychotic gunman; whom Cash portrays with just a little too much realism. It’s a pretty frightening listen, especially with that rattlesnake hissing up his throat.
25 Minutes To Go is the epitome of the expression gallows humour. The hangman’s pleas before his death waver in this song from amusing to deeply disturbing within a few seconds. It is worth pointing out that the preoccupation with death on this album might spook off some listeners unused to Cash’s literate morbidity. Rodeo Hand is added as a bonus track here, and is similarly hell-raising fare.
Bury Me Not On The Lonesome Prairie is a contender for the finest threnode on this album, with its lavish instrumentation and more of them anonymous strings, provided by some faceless cats in Hollywood. Sweet Betsy From Pike is kind-hearted country waltz which Cash introduces so innocently that the listener is rendered speechless at the malicious twist he plays on us at the end. Old, cantankerous devil.
Bury Me Not On The Lonesome Prairie is a contender for the finest threnode on this album, with its lavish instrumentation and more of them anonymous strings, provided by some faceless cats in Hollywood. Sweet Betsy From Pike is kind-hearted country waltz which Cash introduces so innocently that the listener is rendered speechless at the malicious twist he plays on us at the end. Old, cantankerous devil.
The Shifting, Whispering Sands Part 2 is less spectacular than the first half, but this album is a lot of work and The Carter Family are a permanent joy to listen to. Stampede (Alternate Instrumental) is the second bonus track; a minute of superfluous banjo-plucking from Bob Johnson. Nothing wrong with that, is there?
Johnny Cash Sings The Ballads of the True West is a tremendous achievement and one of the most essential records in a back catalogue that could easily fill the Grand Canyon. For those who favour their Cash mournful, impassioned, heart-rending and grittier than a whole sackful of hominy, this is the perfect album for you.
Johnny Cash Sings The Ballads of the True West is a tremendous achievement and one of the most essential records in a back catalogue that could easily fill the Grand Canyon. For those who favour their Cash mournful, impassioned, heart-rending and grittier than a whole sackful of hominy, this is the perfect album for you.
It also happens to be one of his finest albums of all time (lucky that), and consolidates what is so wonderful about the man. He was a true American wild man, a romantic, a poet and a visionary songwriter with a heart made from igneous rock but a soul as pure as the desert. This is a brooding, beautiful and timeless album.
Rating: 10/10
No comments:
Post a Comment