I was just listening to (what else) Johnny Cash, a track from his Unearthed collection. It’s a five CD set I have yet to buy for myself—however, thank s to the lovely Michael Bates, I was able to get a copy of one of the 5 CDs a few years ago. Ok, so here’s the point: there’s a track called “Father and Son” on which Fiona Apple does some backing/guest vocals. (You may also remember her vocals on “Bridge Over Troubled Water” on American IV: The Man Comes Around). What an ethereal, eerie, beautiful voice. The song itself of course helps, and obviously JC had a real knack at the end there for picking those songs dealing with imminent loss, looking back at one’s life, etc. But my word, would any of us have guessed that the woman who brought us “Shadowboxer” (which I say probably paved the way for another new favorite, Ms. Amy Winehouse) would be singing with Johnny Cash? Probably not, as none of us could have guessed that Johnny would find Rick Rubin, who would somehow make him into the man (artistically) he was meant to be—and have the damned good vision to bring along guests like Fiona.
Here’s the thing: (a little known fact, if you will) I have the utmost respect for Rick Rubin. He makes flawless choices. Look him up on Wikipedia, and read everything you can about him. Besides being the man who helped JC to musical redemption, he’s also responsible for the Dixie Chick’s new album, a Neil Diamond effort, The Red Hot Chili Peppers…I mean, what more could you ask for? Well, here it is (the little secret): I have this built-in “extra trust” reserved for people (mostly men) who remind me of my older brother, RJ. Hence, Rick Rubin (his lack of being a genre-elitist reminds me so much of RJ, whose band is straight hardcore metal, but who plays old country and blues…) being in my top ten list. Others I have a soft spot for, for the same reason? Joel Zumaya (of the Detroit Tigers), especially after I saw him being goofy in the Comcast commercial. Ha! Ben Wallace used to hold the honor, not because he reminds me of my brother, but because he reminded me of RJ’s dog, Dempsey. Sadly, something in Dempsey snapped (the pit-bull gene he’d acquired somewhere along the line turned him into an attack dog) and he had to be put out to pasture; obviously, something similar has happened to Ben.
Other food for thought: In the arc of “redemptive” storytelling, a la “man makes it big, loses it all, comes back huge” (which we could argue is the real Jesus myth) is there a better modern-day example than Johnny Cash? His last few years, and the recording of Hurt, remind me in a strange (anachronistic) way of Mr. Eko (see: LOST), a man who knew his mistakes and learned from them but couldn’t repent them all. Hmmm. Easter Sunday night, Jeremy and I were unexpectedly Evie-free and split a few pitchers of cheap beer, and chatted. It was divine. Jeremy mentioned his “you’re saved, you idiot” view of redemption. I say mine, like the Catholic faith, is much more blue-collar (hence what J calls the “busy work” of all the sacraments) and requires that you strive for progress and improvement your whole life. I argue that was Johnny Cash; that the “you’re saved, you idiot” approach leads to laziness. Anyway.
1 comment:
I had been thinking that Amy Winehouse's voice/style was closest to Lauryn Hill's traditionalist side, but you're right -- Fiona Apple is another good predecessor. And you're definitely right that she has crossed into underground cool -- the bootleg fervor that spread around the early cuts of her last album is positive proof.
I was also listening to Mr. Cash the other day (a self-compiled best of American Recordings 1-4) and was thinking mostly about his similarity to another favorite of mine, Bill Callahan (aka Smog) -- who seems to be the genuine bridge between JC, who has indie rock fans, and indie rock itself.
Callahan has a great line in a song on his last Smog album that reminds me so much of Cash: "No matter how far wrong you've gone, you can always turn around." And I think that might be the best reconciliation between the salvation is hard work/pure grace readings of Johnny Cash's Protestant vision. When you listen to Cash's version of Tom Waits's "Down There By the Train," you have a fantastic sense of Cash's feeling of grace-inspired gratitude. But what really underlies it, though, is a sentiment that is, in its own way, totally Catholic -- that salvation is universal, that it is (in its impossibility) open to anyone.
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