C’mon, he was a musician who didn’t quite fit in. How could I not comment on his passing?
He wore all black before the goths and punks did. He wrote about poppin’ caps in guys’ asses before gangsta rap (Ice-T once said of Johnny’s lyric: “‘I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die’…that sounds like something Bushwick Bill would say!”). He recorded a concept album about the plight of Native Americans before it became cool to be concerned about them. He performed in prisons not to make himself look tough (unlike those poseurs, Metallica) but out of concern for the lowest members of society.
And hey, who else could take both Shel Silverstein’s wonderfully goofy A Boy named Sue and Nine Inch Nails’ goth anthem Hurt in his own voice and style and make amazing singles out of them? What other country star would Carson T. Foster, host of Kickass Karaoke, have paid tribute to or who’d be mourned by country and western fans, goths, rockers and punks alike?
Johnny Cash was an influence on me. On the “about” page of my old blog, he’s one of two musicans — as opposed to genres — that I cite as influences. Ring of Fire was one of the first songs I learned how to play on the accordion. When I bought my trademark cowboy hat, I asked myself “Would Johnny Cash approve?”
My favourite Johnny Cash memory is from shortly after new year’s 2000. I was in the James Joyce pub in the Old Town in Prague. The barman had just shut off the sound system and climbed onto the bar, where I was already standing. He announced to the crowd — a mishmash of Czechs, Irish, Scots, Germans, Swedes, Italians, Poles, French, English and Americans and introduced me to the crowd. I then squeezed out the opening chords to Ring of Fire, and when I started singing, it looked as though everyone — even those for whom English wasn’t their first language — knew the words.
Why’s Johnny flipping the bird? The story is here.
Thanks for everything, Johnny.