09.14.03
The Man in Black meets the Ghost Riders in the Sky
Yesterday, the most influential man in popular music passed away. I found myself unexpectedly and profoundly saddened. Johnny Cash was an uncompromising, powerful baritone voice for the everyday working class dude, the cowboy in all of us, and the rebel we all wish we could be. Johnny reached his height of popularity at a time when country music was rhinestone and spangles and rarely more than folksy blues tunes. Johnny had the nerve to dress all in black and to sing for prisoners, American Indians, disenfranchised youth, and working class people.
Like many people my age, I first heard Johnny’s deep voice in my father’s car. Something about his music resonated with me. Perhaps it was that I appreciated the irony of someone my Dad liked saying that he was “wishing he was stoned.” (Sunday Morning Coming Down). I was drawn to Johnny’s humor in songs like “Onie”, “A Piece at a Time”, and of course “A Boy Named Sue.” Given that my Dad usually listened to Merle Haggard and Marty Robbins, a little humor was refreshing. But most of all, Johnny’s style was unique, he spoke of things that mattered, and he didn’t care if you like him or not. You could tell though that he appreciated the people who got him.
As I grew older, I picked up a few Johnny Cash records of my own. He found his way to my ears during times when I was pissed off (especially if I was pissed at some authority figure) or sad. He always knew how to make me feel better and to see the humor of my situation. I am grateful to him and I miss him already.
Somehow I have a feeling that he will be the only angel in heaven to be wearing black.
Goodbye Mr. Cash, and Godspeed.
