Johnny Cash – American VI: Ain’t No Grave
3 min read
There’s three things that make me cry: The seventh game of the 1997 World Series, the end of The Polar Express when that little bastard finally believes in Santa Claus, and Johnny Cash. The first instance is out of extreme pain – the Cleveland Indians were one out away from winning the championship and Jose Mesa, the Scott Norwood of professional baseball, gave the game away. The second instance is of hope realized; when a cynical little boy realizes that there is still magic in the world. And Johnny Cash? He’s the perfect combination of both.
After an already legendary career, Johnny Cash hooked up with maverick producer Rick Rubin in 1994 and released American Recordings, the first of six albums that not only introduced the relevance of Johnny Cash to a generation unfamiliar with him but also became the ultimate epilogue of the world’s foremost singer/songwriter. It was during this period that Johnny released his cover of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt” on American IV: The Man Comes Around, a version so…CASH…that it inspired Trent Reznor to remark, “It instantly became his song after that.”
And really, isn’t that the power of Johnny Cash? Any song he touches becomes “his song.” The experience becomes even deeper because it’s not voyeuristic with Cash – he takes us along on the journey of his life to a point where we feel his pain, rejoice in his victories, and tough guy reviewers in their thirties cry.
Even at the end, with American VI: Ain’t No Grave, Cash refuses to let up. Though he knew his life was coming to a close, Rubin says of Cash, “There was no fear,” a sentiment that is evident throughout the ten tracks on this last studio release. Though he lost his beloved wife June during these final sessions, the pain of which would surely destroy the rest of us, Cash remained resolute that his future and his faith were in good hands:
“Oh death, where is thy sting?
Oh grave, where is thy victory?
Oh life, you are a shining path
And hope springs eternal just over the rise
When I see my redeemer beckoning me”
Cash pulls this final middle finger to the reaper straight from the Bible in the elegiac I Corinthians 15:55. Where many (and understandably so) would give in to the fear of the unknown that befalls us in our twilight, Johnny Cash is an example of how to not only end the long day in dignity but to finish it strong and with your head held high.
Ultimately, that’s what this album is – a guidebook of how to die well. A mixture of the sacred and secular, of things holy and things profane, Cash gave us his own eulogy in iPod format; at the same time melancholy and celebratory, Ain’t No Grave is the musical expression of our dual existence in flesh and spirit and of the final reward waiting beyond this mortal coil.
This final collection, this benediction if you will, can not merely be judged on its musical merits – though it easily stands on its own as a strong piece of creative art. It must (and always) be considered as Johnny Cash’s final message to the rest of us, as a reminder that though life is filled with unimaginable pain and struggle, with death and heartbreak, it is our faith and hope that we cling to and that will, in the end, lead us to our final reward. Johnny says it best in the title track:
“Well there ain’t no grave
Gonna hold my body down
Well there ain’t no grave
Gonna hold my body down
When I hear that trumpet sound
I’m gonna get up out of the ground
Well there ain’t no grave
Gonna hold my body down.”
Well done, Johnny Cash, good and faithful servant. We’ll see you when we get home.
