"I WALK THE LINE" JOHNNY CASH (1957)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1957

Let’s get this part straight. I certainly don’t like Johnny Cash for the instrumentation. It seems like there’s one single bass line used on the majority of his songs. For me, the appeal has always been that deep voice like no other and the ability to spin masterful lyrics that feel so, Johnny Cash. There’s no other adjective to describe it. 1957 was a banner year for the legend. On With His Hot and Blue Guitar (extra points for the quirky album title), he released some of his biggest songs, including “Folsom Prison Blues”, “Cry! Cry! Cry!” and “I Walk The Line”.

I think the first verse says it all: “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine / I keep my eyes wide open all the time / I keep the ends out for the tie that binds / Because you're mine, I walk the line.” This is Johnny Cash to a T. There’s a resoluteness in what' he’s saying, but at the same time you know that his stance can change on a dime. There’s no balance. Which makes everything about the song – while simple as usual – feel so intense and true.

“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. I keep my eyes wide open all the time. I keep the ends out for the tie that binds. Because you're mine, I walk the line.”

"SAN QUENTIN" JOHNNY CASH (1969)

This month, I’m jumping into the #APlaceInTheSong challenge from @JukeboxJohnny2. Great songs have that special ability to describe places in a way that makes us feel like we’re right there. Each day, I’ll pick a track that I think accomplishes that feat.

Most music artists tend to have a favorite venue or at least a favorite type of venue to perform in. Jerry Garcia once famously said that only two theaters mattered: The Fillmore and The Capitol. Each venue space carries its own history, aura, and stories. For Johnny Cash, prisons were places where his audiences experienced redemption during some of his most famous concerts – and I wonder if these state penitentiaries allowed Cash to experience an equal amount of redemption himself. At Folsom Prison was Cash’s most renowned album from his four-part prison series, making At San Quentin a bit of an underrated gem.

The title track isn’t one of the more well known songs on his set list by any stretch. But judging from the roars, whistles and applause from the crowd, it was right up there with “Folsom Prison Blues” and “I Walk the Line”. Cash was giving much more than just a great performance. He took a much more empathetic stance, making every syllable in the lyrics an acknowledgement of what these inmates were up against. He made “San Quentin” their song, not his own song. In writing it and going behind prison doors to perform it, Cash leveled the playing field – essentially declaring the inmates as his equals. The song resonated with them so much, he went ahead and played it twice.

“San Quentin, you've been A livin' hell to me. You've blistered me since 1963. I've seen 'em come and go and I've seen them die. And long ago I stopped askin' why.”

"JACKSON" JOHNNY CASH (1968)

For the next 30 days, I’ll be taking the #AprilAcrossAmerica challenge, picking one song a day as I make my way across the country and across genres at the same time.

Day 17: Jackson, MS

Johnny Cash had a way of taking other people’s songs and elevating them to the point where his version was stronger and more profound. He’s done this over and over again. In the 21st century, you don’t have to look any further than his cover of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” and Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”. But Cash was creating unforgettable covers since the 60’s from the At Folsom Prison album and others. “Jackson” is probably one of his more well known examples. But Cash was just half the equation.

All due respect to the man in black, but June Carter pretty much stole the show on this one with her raspy, fiery vocal parts. Together, Johnny and June were a force to be reckoned with. They were in and out of Jackson like a freight train coming in full steam. It was enough to instill a sense of hope and joy to the jailbirds on the song’s live recording at Folsom Prison. The rousing applause and cheering heard on the recording is all the proof you need.

“I'm goin' to Jackson. You turn-a loosen my coat 'Cause I'm goin' to Jackson. Goodbye, that's all she wrote.”

"THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY" JOHNNY CASH (1963)

So much of the Christmas season, for me, is all about the music. I have no problems with you if you want to start your Christmas celebrations a little early. After Halloween seems excessive. After Thanksgiving is fair game. Then let’s bring on the real Christmas songs and the fake ones, too. I don’t discriminate. From Dec 16-31, it’s all Christmas music playing on Mental Jukebox.

Cash’s deep baritone vocals is always the highlight on any of his recordings – from “Ring of Fire” to “Hurt”. But it’s appropriate that the second most iconic aspect of “The Little Drummer Boy” from Cash’s first Christmas album is the drum part. It’s notable that the drum kit sounds raw, basic and unpolished – almost unsuitable for a recording of this stature. But this is Johnny Cash. There’s no flair or production finagling. It’s all about the rawness and gravity of the nativity moment. The gift presented to baby Jesus, after all, isn’t about instrument’s quality, it’s solely about the gift of music.

“Come they told me (pa-rum pum pum pum). A newborn King to see (pa-rum pum pum pum). Our finest gifts we bring pa-rum pum pum pum.”

"SAN QUENTIN" JOHNNY CASH (1969)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

Most music artists tend to have a favorite venue or at least a favorite type of venue to perform in. Jerry Garcia once famously said that only two theaters mattered: The Fillmore and The Capitol. Each venue space carries its own history, aura, and stories. For Johnny Cash, prisons were places where his audiences experienced redemption during some of his most famous concerts – and I wonder if these state penitentiaries allowed Cash to experience an equal amount of redemption himself. At Folsom Prison was Cash’s most renowned album from his four-part prison series, making At San Quentin a bit of an underrated gem.

The title track isn’t one of the more well known songs on his set list by any stretch. But judging from the roars, whistles and applause from the crowd, it was right up there with “Folsom Prison Blues” and “I Walk the Line”. Cash was giving much more than just a great performance. He took a much more empathetic stance, making every syllable in the lyrics an acknowledgement of what these inmates were up against. He made “San Quentin” their song, not his own song. In writing it and going behind prison doors to perform it, Cash leveled the playing field – essentially declaring the inmates as his equals. The song resonated with them so much, he went ahead and played it twice.

“San Quentin, I hate every inch of you. You've cut me and you scarred me through and through. Mister. Congressman you can't understand. San Quentin, what good do you think you do?”

"HURT" JOHNNY CASH (2002)

Each day in December, I’ll be reflecting back on a song from the 2000’s. The decade saw the return of post-punk and the popularization of folk music, all while some of music’s biggest acts gained their indie footing. Thankfully, it’s a period that I can look back at fondly without cringing. #31DaysOf2000sSongs

This is already the third time I’m featuring “Hurt” on Mental Jukebox. It’s one of my all-time favorite cover songs. When I think of all the great cover songs from the last 25 years, some of the best ones are adored and revered by the original writers and recording artists. Johnny Cash’s rendition of Nine Inch Nail’s “Hurt” is one of those songs. Of Cash’s rendition, NIN frontman Trent Reznor famously said, “That song isn’t mine anymore.” The crazy thing is it’s true.

Cash elevated “Hurt” into the stratosphere. Powerful. Gripping. Even more haunting than the original, which seems like an impossible task, as Nine Inch Nails already created a masterpiece with the original. Recorded the year before he died, this was like Cash’s swan song. There’s even a faint percussion element in the background of the recording that sounds like a clock ticking. Time was literally passing by. The days were numbered for Cash. The most impressive thing about the cover is that he took emotions and thoughts so deeply personal to Reznor and made them his own. Toward the end of his life, this recording represents one of Johnny Cash’s crowning achievements.

“What have I become? My sweetest friend, everyone I know goes away in the end.”

"HURT" JOHNNY CASH (2002)

Cover songs can be many things. They can be lazy album filler. They can be ho-hum recordings that do nothing to advance a band’s catalog. But, once in a while, they can be truly epic. For my next five entries, I’m highlighting five of my favorite cover songs of all time. Each of these tracks, in my opinion, have reinvented and, in many ways, exceeded the original recordings.

When I think of all the great cover songs, some of the best ones are adored and revered by the original writers and recording artists. Johnny Cash’s rendition of Nine Inch Nail’s “Hurt” is one of those songs. It’s the very first song that comes to mind when I think of great cover songs. Of Cash’s rendition, Trent Reznor famously said, “That song isn’t mine anymore.”

Cash elevated “Hurt” into the stratosphere. Powerful. Gripping. Even more haunting than the original, which seems impossible. Recorded the year before he died, this was like Cash’s swan song. The most impressive thing about the cover is that Cash took emotions and thoughts so deeply personal to Reznor and gave it new meaning without changing the lyrics. Toward the end of his life, this recording represents one of Johnny Cash’s crowning achievements.

“What have I become? My sweetest friend. Everyone I know goes away in the end.”

"ORANGE BLOSSOM SPECIAL - LIVE AT FOLSOM PRISON" JOHNNY CASH (1968)

In my series “Long Live Live”, I’m highlighting some of the most revered live recordings of all time. You’ll see my musical biases, but there’s no doubt that each of these tracks played a pivotal role in shaping music history. I started Mental Jukebox last year because I needed another music listening outlet when there were no more live shows to go to. These songs remind me that nothing will ever replace the blend of atmosphere and performance captured in the live experience.

There were 16 songs on the set list for Johnny Cash’s legendary concert to the inmates at Folsom State Prison in California. But “Orange Blossom Special” is the one song that has always stood out to me from that recording. It had the rockabilly swagger that we’ve heard throughout a good bulk of his catalog. But it also did something powerful with the inmates that day that you can clearly hear from the rousing cheers. Containing one of Cash’s fastest, most energetic harmonica solos, the song distracted the men long enough to forget where they were or what their predicament was. That’s a powerful performance.

“I'll ride that Orange Blossom Special and lose these New York blues.”

"NEW MEXICO" JOHNNY CASH (1964)

Inspired by Jeep’s “Reunited States of America” Super Bowl ad, this is my peek into America through a handful of songs. Each track is dedicated to one of the states. Here’s Part 4.

I’m currently rewatching Breaking Bad with my wife and renewing my fascination with the beautiful southwest. Which leads me to the next entry for my state theme on Mental Jukebox. In between the artwork of Georgia O’Keeffe and the gripping stories of Vince Gilligan came a song that told a wild west folk tale of the state of New Mexico. With his classic baritone delivery and guitar picking tendencies, it was, in many ways, a prototypical Johnny Cash song even though he didn’t write it.

“Go back to your friends and loved ones, tell others not to go to the God forsaken country they call New Mexico.”

"(GHOST) RIDERS IN THE SKY" JOHNNY CASH (1979)

This is maybe not the first song you’re reminded of when you think of Johnny Cash. There were all the country classics and then the monumental covers, most notably Cash’s haunting interpretation of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”. But in between those two signature phases was this song that epitomized the thing I’ve always loved most about Cash. That deep and unforgettable bass vocal. There’s nothing else like it in music history.

“A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky. For he saw the riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry.”

"HURT" JOHNNY CASH (2002)

All due respect to Nine Inch Nails. Because Trent Reznor has certainly accomplished his fair share and did it his way. But Cash elevated “Hurt” into the stratosphere. So powerful. So gripping. So haunting. Recorded the year before he died, this was like Cash’s swan song. He did something I’ve never heard before in a cover. He took “Hurt” and gave it new meaning without changing the lyrics. Hats off to Cash for recording one of his crowning achievements toward the end of his life.

“What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.”