Johnny Cash has been a hip topic ever since the man in black found his face in the big screen features thanks to an impeccable performance by that little live-wire, Joaquin Phoenix. And because of that movie we’re probably all familiar with his songs Walk the Line, Ring of Fire, and my own personal favorite Rusty Cage. Addiction, depression, and a whole host of personal demons spawned brilliantly sincere pieces of musical Americana, even if some of his biographical facts were stretched during the making of his mystique. He was tireless and prolific during his heyday, and we most certainly have his wife, June Carter, to thank for the longevity of his creative process. In light of that, what I find most compelling is what he did musically after June left him for those big rock candy mountains in the sky.  In the final album released during his lifetime, American IV: The Man Comes Around, you mostly find covers with appearances by notables such as Fiona Apple, Nick Cave, and Don Henley assisting the legendary musical giant. And did I mention it was produced by the accomplished Rick Rubin? Johnny and his talented cast of contributors took music that was already adored, stripped it down to its bare bones, and gave it a sentimentality rarely seen in pop music with any authenticity behind it. Granted, Reznor’s original version of Hurt has soul to spare, but the fragility in Cash’s version is what reinvents the song and makes it more real: reality that can only be conjured by a widower approaching his deathbed, reality that has no home in the hearts of youth no matter the amount of emotional trauma those young years have endured. Gut wrenching blues drip out of every pore in this man’s body and drip all over everything: covering the instruments and their manipulators. 

For instance, The Man in Black’s Personal Jesus with acoustic guitar riffs provided by The Red Hot Chili Peppers‘ John Frusciante:

Versus Depeche Mode‘s original:

Or how about his version of Hurt 

Versus Trent Reznor‘s NIN original:

 

But why covers? That question has stuck in my mind ever since I bought the album when I was a senior in high school. Why not pen odes to your beloved wife’s departure? My guess is that he just couldn’t produce the words to make it right, but knew them when they crossed his path. And maybe, just maybe, he learned a few more things about himself at the end of his life (without the steady, reassuring hand of his wife by his side) by taking the creative output of others and making it his own; not a bad way to leave this life behind, when you think about it. Regardless, it was a hell of a high note to end a stellar career on.

Go buy this album immediately if you haven’t already done so, and break your own rusty cage.