kleph
14-03-2006, 02:09 AM
With the recent passing of Johnny Cash an onslaught of musical collections purporting to be definitive have flooded the market. The success of the film about his life also added to this trend, which, as should be expected, has mostly foisted a huge amount of b-grade material on an unsuspecting public.
While diehard aficionados may have reason to enjoy the more obscure tracks in the voluminous body of work this man created (and many are well worth seeking out) it can be difficult for those less familiar with his music to know exactly where to start. And I can think of no better album than his 1968 classic Live at Folsom Prison.
http://forum.zgeek.com/gallery/files/2/0/1/folsom_831987.jpgIn January 1968 Cash and his band The Tennessee Three played four live shows at Folsom State Prison in Folsom, California. Cash’s wife, June Carter, as well as fellow country music legend Carl Perkins also performed. The result was a watershed record that re-defined the singer’s career.
Before Live at Folsom Prison Cash was one of country and rock’s early superstars. He was involved in the legendary recording sessions at Sam Phillips' Sun Records with Elvis, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis. Between 1955 and 1965 he had a constant presence on the best-seller charts with a string of hits that are rightly considered classics today.
But as quickly as he had risen he fell as well. Drugs and liquor destroyed his first marriage and his career. Things reached the point that his violent behavior had him banned from the Grand Ole Opry. By the late 1960s he was considered, at best, washed up if he was considered at all.
He began to turn things around when he sobered up, married June Carter and became devoutly religious. And while his religion became a key element to his music, Cash was always very clear on the role each played in his life. "I am not a Christian artist,” he said. “I am an artist who is a Christian.” Thus, he didn’t shy from including those themes in his work nor did he allow his beliefs to limit his exploration of other aspects of his art. In fact, it is during the Folsom Prison recordings that he famously flipped the bird to Jim Marshall's camera - not during the concert that got him banned from the Opry.
What is interesting about the album is how closely Cash and the prisoners empathize with each other. He clearly sympathizes with their situation and they, in turn, clearly have respect for him. This is odd seeing as how Cash’s “outlaw image” was almost entirely a fiction created for his career. Cash wrote "Folsom Prison Blues," after seeing the B-movie Inside the Walls of Folsom Prison. Although he clearly identified with isolation he described - he was stationed at Landsberg Air Force base at the time – but it is hard to believe it describes any type of actual events. (The protagonist shoots a man in Nevada, is doing time in California while listening to a train headed to Texas. Say what?)
Despite his additions to alcohol and amphetamines and getting thrown in jail on several occasions, Cash never served any time in prison. His vow to wear nothing but black was a spiritual decision not an acknowledgement to having been a convict. But through a bizarre process of media osmosis, Cash became this representative of the dispossessed. But that feeling of isolation, depression and despair were very real. Listening to the audience respond to him on this record you realize Cash has found a way to circumvent his image and reach them directly.
And, make no mistake, Live at Folsom Prison is a dark album. Most of the songs revolve around men either spending their lives in prison or condemned to die. From the rollicking “Cocaine Blues” to the heart wrenching “Send a Picture of Mother” these are all songs about loss and pain. But they are also about honesty without fatalism. Because while you may have no other reason to live you hold on just to stick it to the son-of-a-bitch that took your life away in the first place.
Of course several of the outtakes where Cash chatters between songs are clearly a bit scripted but the power of his performance is clearly not. This is the definitive version of “Folsom Prison Blues” and not because of the sounds of the audience behind it. And the cover art of Cash glancing down mid song with sweat pouring down his face is nothing less than iconic.
Live at Folsom Prison took some time to gain public approval and the record label, who didn’t think it would work in the first place, gave the album only minimal promotion. It also didn’t help that it was competing against the heyday of the Beatles and The Who. It became a No. 1 album that would spend 122 weeks on the pop chart. It outsold the Beatles the next year and netted two Grammy awards. After the success of the record a follow up, Live at San Quentin, was produced and released a year later. While it also is a great record it lacks the intimacy and intensity of its predecessor.
My own memories of this record go back pretty far since my dad had it and would listen to it often when I was a child. As a teenager, as I got interested in different types of music, I was surprised to find how much power it retained when other music I heard as a child sounded so small in comparison. Even later, when I started meeting other people who had similar interests in music as myself, I noticed many held this record with as much regard as myself – no matter how disparate their regular style of music was from it.
(In a humorous note, a buddy of mine once admitted that, for years, he thought June Carter was a bit of an idiot because she sounds so stupid when she makes the rejoinder “I’m talkin’ with mah mouth!” on the record. I had to admit I had thought the same.)
My belief is that the popularity and durability of Live at Folsom Prison is due to its brutal honesty. Nobody ever doubted the professionalism of the musicians on this record or Cash’s genius as a songwriter. But something happened when he walked through the gates of Folsom Prison that allowed them to create something sublime.
While diehard aficionados may have reason to enjoy the more obscure tracks in the voluminous body of work this man created (and many are well worth seeking out) it can be difficult for those less familiar with his music to know exactly where to start. And I can think of no better album than his 1968 classic Live at Folsom Prison.
http://forum.zgeek.com/gallery/files/2/0/1/folsom_831987.jpgIn January 1968 Cash and his band The Tennessee Three played four live shows at Folsom State Prison in Folsom, California. Cash’s wife, June Carter, as well as fellow country music legend Carl Perkins also performed. The result was a watershed record that re-defined the singer’s career.
Before Live at Folsom Prison Cash was one of country and rock’s early superstars. He was involved in the legendary recording sessions at Sam Phillips' Sun Records with Elvis, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis. Between 1955 and 1965 he had a constant presence on the best-seller charts with a string of hits that are rightly considered classics today.
But as quickly as he had risen he fell as well. Drugs and liquor destroyed his first marriage and his career. Things reached the point that his violent behavior had him banned from the Grand Ole Opry. By the late 1960s he was considered, at best, washed up if he was considered at all.
He began to turn things around when he sobered up, married June Carter and became devoutly religious. And while his religion became a key element to his music, Cash was always very clear on the role each played in his life. "I am not a Christian artist,” he said. “I am an artist who is a Christian.” Thus, he didn’t shy from including those themes in his work nor did he allow his beliefs to limit his exploration of other aspects of his art. In fact, it is during the Folsom Prison recordings that he famously flipped the bird to Jim Marshall's camera - not during the concert that got him banned from the Opry.
What is interesting about the album is how closely Cash and the prisoners empathize with each other. He clearly sympathizes with their situation and they, in turn, clearly have respect for him. This is odd seeing as how Cash’s “outlaw image” was almost entirely a fiction created for his career. Cash wrote "Folsom Prison Blues," after seeing the B-movie Inside the Walls of Folsom Prison. Although he clearly identified with isolation he described - he was stationed at Landsberg Air Force base at the time – but it is hard to believe it describes any type of actual events. (The protagonist shoots a man in Nevada, is doing time in California while listening to a train headed to Texas. Say what?)
Despite his additions to alcohol and amphetamines and getting thrown in jail on several occasions, Cash never served any time in prison. His vow to wear nothing but black was a spiritual decision not an acknowledgement to having been a convict. But through a bizarre process of media osmosis, Cash became this representative of the dispossessed. But that feeling of isolation, depression and despair were very real. Listening to the audience respond to him on this record you realize Cash has found a way to circumvent his image and reach them directly.
And, make no mistake, Live at Folsom Prison is a dark album. Most of the songs revolve around men either spending their lives in prison or condemned to die. From the rollicking “Cocaine Blues” to the heart wrenching “Send a Picture of Mother” these are all songs about loss and pain. But they are also about honesty without fatalism. Because while you may have no other reason to live you hold on just to stick it to the son-of-a-bitch that took your life away in the first place.
Of course several of the outtakes where Cash chatters between songs are clearly a bit scripted but the power of his performance is clearly not. This is the definitive version of “Folsom Prison Blues” and not because of the sounds of the audience behind it. And the cover art of Cash glancing down mid song with sweat pouring down his face is nothing less than iconic.
Live at Folsom Prison took some time to gain public approval and the record label, who didn’t think it would work in the first place, gave the album only minimal promotion. It also didn’t help that it was competing against the heyday of the Beatles and The Who. It became a No. 1 album that would spend 122 weeks on the pop chart. It outsold the Beatles the next year and netted two Grammy awards. After the success of the record a follow up, Live at San Quentin, was produced and released a year later. While it also is a great record it lacks the intimacy and intensity of its predecessor.
My own memories of this record go back pretty far since my dad had it and would listen to it often when I was a child. As a teenager, as I got interested in different types of music, I was surprised to find how much power it retained when other music I heard as a child sounded so small in comparison. Even later, when I started meeting other people who had similar interests in music as myself, I noticed many held this record with as much regard as myself – no matter how disparate their regular style of music was from it.
(In a humorous note, a buddy of mine once admitted that, for years, he thought June Carter was a bit of an idiot because she sounds so stupid when she makes the rejoinder “I’m talkin’ with mah mouth!” on the record. I had to admit I had thought the same.)
My belief is that the popularity and durability of Live at Folsom Prison is due to its brutal honesty. Nobody ever doubted the professionalism of the musicians on this record or Cash’s genius as a songwriter. But something happened when he walked through the gates of Folsom Prison that allowed them to create something sublime.