I’ve got my picture of me and the Man in Black framed and hanging over the computer.
Dammit.
TigoleBitties, that was a effin’ beautiful elegy. Thanks for writing that. I grew up listening to Johnny Cash too, singing “Jackson” at the top of my lungs as a little kid with my granny and having NO idea what it all meant. I just knew I loved it and still do.
I’m crying harder now, dammit.
Johnny Cash at San Quentin was the album that convinced a younger punker version of myself that country music could be cool.
Goddamn this dying shit.
Damn.
First Wesley Willis and now Johnny.
If you haven’t seen his beautiful music video, here is the link.
Go to Amazon and buy the new album (American IV: The Man Comes Around) - there’s a special edition that includes at DVD of the video. The album itself is one of those rare albums where you feel you got 100% of your money’s worth. Hell, I’d have paid the full price just for his cover of Bridge Over Troubled Water…
Remember.
I knew it was going to happen sooner than later. Hoped it wouldn’t. But it still hurts.
I’m very upset. I’m going to go to Reno and shoot someone.
The only reason I got up on time this morning was because when the alarm went off I heard someone on the radio giving a recap of Johnny’s career and I knew that he was gone. In my mind I heard, not one of Johnny’s songs, but Sid Vicious singing his cover of My Way. It was somehow appropriate, I thought. I made sure to wear all black today.
In talking with a buddy of mine at work today, who is friends with folks who’ve worked with Johnny he told me that after June’s death, Johnny spent as much time as he possibly could in the studio recording. My buddy estimted that Johnny probably had some 40 to 50 songs in the can that haven’t been released yet (don’t know how many of them were cut before June passed), one of which is a cover of North to Alaska. My buddy drove past Johnny’s house on his way to work this morning and said that there were dozens of cars there, and a couple of police cars parked out front. The fans were just beginning to show up.
Fare thee well, Johnny. Fare thee well.
“Well, bad news travels like wildfire.”
As usual, I turn to the SDMB to see what others are a-thinkin’ about stuff. I posted very early in this thread, but I have something more to add. I just sent an e-mail to my Mom and Dad, and I would like to copy it here, if nobody minds.
Mike is my dear husband, and Ross was his Dad, who died in 1989, before I even had a chance to meet him. Ross was a Canadian who moved to the US in the fifties. Ross spent his last years in The American Southwest. Ross always wanted to be a cowboy. Ross was a character.
I never had the chance to meet Ross, my father-in-law.
** Mom and Dad,
"Just a little backstory for you…
Mike and his Dad used to talk alot about death in Ross’ later years, and Ross promised that when he was “on the other side” he would send a sign to Mike to let him know there was something out there.
A day or so after Ross’ funeral Mike was awakened one morning when he heard and saw the guitar that was in the corner of his room “play”. He heard a chord and watched as the strings vibrated. The guitar was Ross’ Fender Jazzmaster. Mike has always known that was his Dad talking to him.
Well, last night Mike told me that there was a black acoustic guitar he could win, some kind of incentive at work, can’t remember which beer company. Mike reminded the powers-that-be that he has sold a ton of that beer in the last month and that “you better give me that guitar.”
I just talked to MIke and I let him know that Johnny Cash was gone. Mike hadn’t even heard the news yet. It’s ok, though, because Mike has had that black guitar in his truck since early this morning.
Just want to say thanks to Ross, one of the Original Rockabilly Punks, who taught Mike to play guitar, that we got your message LOUD AND CLEAR.
And, thank you, Man In Black, for helping out.
Pretty cool. :O)
Christine" **
Well, this is the second musical death (the first was Joe Strummer) that actually brought me to tears. Not much I can say that hasn’t been said. It’s like losing the last of something. There won’t be any more like him.
However, if you want to really get your emotions stirred up some more, check out the customer review at the bottom of the page on Amazon.com’s listing for “American IV: The Man Comes Around” (sorry, it’s been too long since I posted here, and I’m not sure I remember how to link - maybe somebody could post the link for me). Does this asshole think he’s being funny? If I knew how to alert Amazon to such things, I’d have done it. I love bad taste humor, but this wasn’t even close. Sickening, really.
Hm. A friend of mine on LJ linked me to an e-mail address to file a complaint about reviews on Amazon. I’m off to do it now. Hopefully, the thing will be gone before any of you have a chance to read it.
It’s tomorrow now here in Sydney. I’ve had a night’s sleep…
Johnny Cash is still gone.
vl_mungo, you’re right: “Goddamn this dying shit”.
Hurt is the first song that has actually on listening made me cry. I listened to it twice today, and I can’t physically bring myself to do it again.
You will be missed Mr.Cash.
I woke up to Johnny on the radio this morning, and it brought a smile to my face, but when two other songs followed up, I knew it was probably bad news. I’m too torn up to be coherent, but every fan of the man knows how I feel. I’m going through all his records today (I’m onto the expanded San Quentin at the moment, and as of this second he’s swearing at his guitar for being out of tune).
Johnny was his own man, did it his way for almost fifty years (in music that is - he did it his way in life all of his seventy one years), and will always be remembered. A true fan’s perspective from Phil Irwin (Thee Whiskey Rebel) is here, and it says it better and sadder than I can.
It’s hard to see a rainbow
Through glasses dark as these
Maybe I’ll be able
From now on, on my knees
I grew up with Johnny Cash’s music, and my kids grew up listening too, because he was their dad’s favorite, and when daddy came home drunk, everybody listened to country music, no matter what time it was.
I don’t think he ever saw the irony in playing Sunday Morning Comin’ Down at 3 a.m., rousing the family from their beds and demanding that they sit down and appreciate some good music.
Thursday night I was trying to get to sleep, and I was thinking about death (a friend from where I used to work is terminal), and I was thinking about how hard it would be to die, and how scary.
And then I thought about June Carter Cash dying, and how Johnny Cash wouldn’t be afraid, because he’d be with her again, and then I thought it would be great if there was a heaven and maybe Johnny and my late husband would meet up there sometime, and he would say how much he loved Johnny’s music, and Johnny would smack him upside the head and say “But you didn’t get it, did you?”
But Johnny wouldn’t do that. He understood about people who tried and wanted to do right but couldn’t always make it happen the way they wanted.
NPR said he’d recorded 500 albums. That’s great, that we’ll have all that music.
I didn’t turn the tv on today until I got home from work and started cooking. VH1 was playing the video for Johnny’s cover of “Hurt,” and I knew he was gone. He will be missed down here, but I bet June’s glad to see him again. God bless them both.
I knew after June died it wouldn’t be long before Johnny went to be with her. He just looked so old in the video for Hurt.
When I was younger and spent my days hanging out with my heavy metal listening friend, between AC/DC cds we’d put in some Johnny Cash and get a hell of a kick out of listening to A Boy Named Sue. He always said “You gotta have your gospel somewhere.” and Johnny Cash was our gospel.
I’ll miss him.
My dad called me at work today and asked if I had heard about Johnny Cash. I hadn’t heard but I knew it what he meant and we all knew it was coming.
One of my earliest memories of music was my brother and I sitting on our beds and my dad singing “A Boy Named Sue” to us.
I, much like many posters here, and many Johnny Cash fans in general, do not like country music. I like punk rock, hip hop, jazz, classical, and just about any other kind of music that is NOT country, but The Man in Black is an exception.
So far Douglas Adams’ is the only passing that has brought me to tears, but I’m fearing the next time I listen to The Ballad of John Henry.
We most certainly lost a legend today.
“Folsom Prison Blues” is playing now.
It’s hard to type with tears in your eyes.
There are bunch of people outside Sun Studio with candles. I suspect they’ll be there all night. I may go join them after work.