Who said you can't age gracefully?by Anonymous
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December 19, 2005:
I borrowed this from the library, and as soon as I pay my next credit card bill, I'm going to buy it. At least if my Christmas hints don't do the trick. In a culture, both musical and general, that tends to look with horror and fear at the aging process and at our mortality, this guy makes you wonder why. He seems to face both with enviable dignity and grace. The late, great Mr. Cash does rock and roll (in an "unplugged" form), country, folk, blues...etc. proud. He is one of a handful of artists we have (we still have the music, the movie, which is great by the way, and the personality of the man to draw on) that transcends musical boundaries and makes one remember that good music is good music, no matter what the supposed genre box we think of it as coming from or fitting into. Song selection is great, much of it reflecting the dignity and character of a man staring down both life and death (Cash was getting close to the void, the next world, or whatever you want to call it, and knew it well--no denial going on, just clear eyed searching for meaning in life and death alike). The first two tracks need no introduction for many, and the titles sum up their themes, which, in Cashes hands, are haunting and perhaps singularly believable. Come to think of it, "haunting" fits every track, and more so each time you hear it. Once you get used to them, I would say there are no weak songs to let down the album, and it sure makes a more coherent "concept" album than Sargent Pepper, or any other album I can think of (I love the Beatles, don't get me wrong). The voice may quaver or sound fragile at times, but that only adds to the atmosphere in an album that often alludes to struggle, loss, and death. If it is true that one needs to know how to deal with the idea of death in order to live well, and how to live well in order to face death, this fellow can teach us all a thing or two. The record (CD) is not morbid, to my mind, despite death and loss being frequently alluded to. Mostly, it gives you strength. The song, "That Lucky Old Sun," where a slaving worker envies the sun rolling around heaven all day, is even more effective in Cash's hands than the other version I know, that by Ray Charles--with subtle clever, ironic touches by Cash that were not in Ray's version. "One" is the beautiful song by U2. You can hear it hear without excess loud guitar droning you would have to deal with on one of their albums. "Nobody" is a funny in a sad kind of way, or sad in a funny kind of way, Vaudeville number. "I See a Darkeness" is beautiful and moving. The singer sings of finding some kind of "peace, alone or with our wives," and stopping their "whoring" and other idiocies where we become isolated from or treat one another (and ourselves) like objects. You would not think there would be a more gripping song on the album, but then comes "The Mercy Seat." It is about dying in the electric chair, as sung by the one doing the dying. The song manages to be as complex and ambiguous (about the guy's guilt, even allowing a humorous, yet not out of place, wink or two by Cash) as the film Dead Man Walking, or, in a less subtle way, Cash's own "Fulsom Prison Blues," first recorded in his first glory days at Sun. "Lay Me Down (In a Field of Stone)" is about what you think it's about, only not really, since it is a man asking...
This review was written about the CD edition.