County legend Johnny Cash lived long enough to become a legend and introduce five generations to his music.

ohnny Cash played country music that even a city boy could love—a universally cool man in the ’50s sense of the word. Even when hip friends scoffed at his hillbilly credentials, you just knew they were wrong. Eventually pop culture would come around, and eventually it did.

If a 71-year-old gets any kind of play on MTV, one expects it will be insolent whipper-snappers poking fun. No, it was just Johnny Cash busting out a Nine Inch Nails tune—and he got away with it. This wasn’t a smarmy Pat Boone begging for attention by crooning Metallica. Cash and Trent Reznor inhabited the same spiritual neighborhood, though probably on opposite sides of the tracks. Cash imagined he could write a song like “Hurt” back in the ’60s. Except he likened the lyrics to the pain of drug addiction—not a dog dying.

Cash arguably produced his finest music in the ’50s and ’60s. His biggest success came early with his makeshift classic, "I Walk the Line."

He lived his rock star life in front of a Grand Ole Opry. His erratic behavior eventually motivated the storied venue to ban the star. Chaos sometimes breeds greatness, and a life on the road fueled by booze and amphetamines failed to suppress Cash’s knack for music. “Ring of Fire,” “Folsom Prison Blues”—his most memorable hits came early in his career. He then found love in June Carter and peace in Jesus Christ. Maybe he lost his edge, but better that than his life.

Cash learned his chops at the same time Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis began testing the rockabilly waters. Their label, Sun Records, briefly boasted the most influential quartet of white Southern boys in modern music history. Cash seemed different, and not just because he remained true to country. He was really more of a folk balladeer than a rhinestone cowboy. Cash played as if he kept a secret from the rest of us. He belonged in black—a somber good ol’ boy in a permanent state of mourning. He sang of heartache and manslaughter as capably as Britney Spears sings about “baby.”

Spiritually he resembled a character in one of his songs—a man led astray and bound for the gallows. Except he was granted a last-minute reprieve.

And sang about it.
craig@red-mag.com