Book Review: The Complete Johnny Cash: Lyrics from a Lifetime of Songwriting

While most of us will only ever know him through his public life (and, thank God, we have plenty of recordings and television appearances to document that), there was one who knew him well, one whom Cash himself turned to when he wanted to sort the truth from the fiction: Cash historian Mark Stielper. Stielper uses this massive book (720 pages) to introduce us to the mind and private world of Johnny Cash as he contextualizes Cash’s life through his lyrics. As he does, you will meet a man more complex and complicated than you imagined and you will understand why Kris Kristofferson called Cash "a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction."

Collectively, these lyrics reveal Cash as one of American music's greatest poets and illustrate why he is rightly enshrined in the Nashville Songwriters' Hall of Fame. Of course, we all know that he could take anyone's words and make them his own. Just ask June Carter about “Ring of Fire” or Trent Reznor about "Hurt" or Bono about "The Wanderer."

Cash’s own words, though, are unmatched masterpieces. This book allows the reader to witness the early words of a boy with dreams of writing poems mature into the man who changed the world with the power of his words . . . and his melodies . . . and his voice like no one before or since. As you read these lyrics, you will find the familiar hits: "I Walk the Line," "Folsom Prison Blues," "Man in Black," and "The Man Comes Around" alongside lesser known pieces of poetry that reveal every one of Cash's sides: humorous songs like "Beans for Breakfast," ballads like "The Battle of Nashville," the hopeful, uplifting “Little White Church,” playful songs like “Well Alright,” professions of love like "Flesh and Blood" and powerful rousing patriotic anthems like “Ragged Old Flag.”

Cash saw what others missed, whether it was the forgotten or the downtrodden, or even the natural beauty that surrounds us as he did when he visited Taos, New Mexico in June of 1970 and returned to write:

TAOS

We drove from Santa Fe to Taos
The black table top mountains
Climbed up like stair steps
Toward Taos
The Rio Grande ran beside the road
Then we topped a last hill,
And on the plateau
The great beautiful plateau
Stretched out to our left a hundred miles
The Rio Grande, a million years ago
Cut a deep, wide awesome gorge
Across the plateau
Proud, peaceful mountains
Look down on Taos
Proud peaceful happy people
Breathe the clear Taos air
The only thing disturbing the countryside
Were giant dust-devils
And they’re a thing of beauty
Upon our return to Taos
Someone had the nerve to remark
“To is overrun with hippies, isn’t it.”
If that’s all you say in Taos
You’ve got no business going there

For those who view Cash as the monochromatic Man in Black, this book reminds us that his black is not the absence of color, but a combination of every color:

The reds of love in songs like:

CAUSE I LOVE YOU

I'll sweep out your chimney
Yes and, I will bring you flowers
Yes and, I will do for you
Most anything you want me to
If we live in a cottage
You will feel like it's a castle
By the royal way you're treated
And attention shown to you

I'll be there beside you
If you need a cryin' shoulder
Yes, and I'll be there to listen
When you need to talk to me
When you wake up in the darkness
I will put my arms around you
And hold you 'til the mornin' sun
Comes shinin' through the trees

I'll be right beside you
No matter where you travel
I'll be there to cheer you
'Til the sun comes shinin’ through
If we're ever parted
I will keep the tie that binds us
And I'll never let it break
'Cause I love you

I will bring you honey
From the bee tree in the meadow
And the first time there’s a rainbow
I'll bring you a pot of gold
I'll take all your troubles
And I'll throw ’em in the river
Then I'll bundle down beside you

And I'll keep you from the cold
I'll be right beside you
No matter where you travel
I'll be there to cheer you
Till the sun comes shinin’ through
If we're ever parted
I will keep the tie that binds us
And I'll never let it break
'Cause I love you

The prison gray in a song like “Jacob Green”:

JACOB GREEN

Jacob Green got busted for possession
Next morning early he appeared in court
But he was sent to jail to wait
To be trialed at some later date
Next morning early, there came a sad report
At the jail they took away his clothes to shame him
And to make sure Jacob Green had no pride left
They cut of all his hair
Today they found him hanging there
Afraid to face the day he killed himself
It happened yesterday, and if you turn your head away
Somewhere in some dirty hole the scene will be rerun
Not only Jacob Green, but many more you've never seen
It could be someone that you love gets done
Like Jacob Green got done
It could be someone that you love gets done
Like Jacob Green got done
Jacob’s father hired a team of lawyers
Inspections and long inquiries were held
The sheriff then retired
And the papers said two guards were fired
They put a brand new coat of paint on Jacob's cell
But like a tomb that looks so white and shiny
Inside you'll find corruption never seen
And somewhere out there tonight
In a dirty cell without a light
They’ll be locking up another Jacob Green
It happened yesterday, and if you turn your head away
Somewhere in some dirty hole the scene will be rerun
Not only Jacob Green, but many more you've never seen
It could be someone that you love gets done
Like Jacob Green got done
It could be someone that you love gets done
Like Jacob Green got done

The blues of loss in songs like “Friendship,” written in the 1990s about wrestling with the rupture of Cash’s friendship with Waylon Jennings:

FRIENDSHIP

Awaking with scattered thoughts
And stumbling through the room
The birds announcing daybreak
A sweetness in the gloom

The morning functions, done by rote
Washed and finally dressed
A cup of coffee chasing now
My mental muddled mist

It was then I let myself
Recall a turmoil of yesterday
Last evening’s trouble
Somatic demons slow to chase away

The sun comes up
So what is wrong?
My wristwatch doesn’t care
And neither does the bird’s song

Nor that flower growing there
Then it hits like muddy lava
Last night, born on evil wind
A hard word and a cold look

From he who was a friend
A close-kept friendship
That had been for twenty years or more
And now the years lie stinking

Like dead fish on the floor
Should I go see this friend today?
No, he won’t take my call
All the chips have fallen

And the back’s against the wall
Does he not feel the way I feel
And hurt the way I do?
We used to say we’re both alike

You’re me and I am you
Well, if I could hold heaven
If I could know its worth
I’d start a branch establishment

And run it here on earth
But not mine, that awesome power
Not mine, that holy strength
I barely can control

This old house’s breadth and length
I gave it all to God
And I let Him have control
But God resounds, Rise up and heal

Thy friendship and thy soul
In sloth, I sit before the box
And let the hour pass
My mind a wandering raven

Newly flown and out of class
It isn’t my place now,
I say I’ve done all that I can
It’s time for him to come to me

And face me like a man
Face like what man, my canyon echoes
Come to you, facing what?
Perhaps he too is stricken

And his pride is all he’s got
It isn’t my fault, my anger screams
I did all I could do
It’s up to him from this point on
It’s he who has to do

I simply will not mention him
I’ll go about my way
Minding my own business
Without a word to say

So there, that firmly is resolved
I stand just where I stand
And maybe someday he’ll awake
And come out like a man

So now I’ve done it, that’s the end
As far as I can see
But a still small voice says,
I thought you turned it over to Me?

My ego said,
Go on and fix it I’ve done my part
Not even you can warm
The chambers of his frozen heart

I’m just a man, I can do so much
And then I draw the line
And to that line I will retreat
With everything that’s mine

I’ll cast my nets and gather in
Ones who agree with me
A power vortex comfort zone
Where nothing disagrees

To bring rebuke upon my soul
To never make me doubt
I was the wise one and the true
And if you don’t believe me, stay out

I’ll go afar and pick and choose
Be cool and hold my peace
I’ll have an army on my side
A regiment, at least

Who will say, “Did you hear about John
Getting stabbed in the back?”
And I’ll humbly say, “Just forget it.”
And I’ll keep on wearing black

And to what end, I finally ask
Will I continue so?
How long can I make the world think
That I just let it go?

So far, God hasn’t done a thing
Doesn’t that prove that I’m right?
I dare not ask these questions
When I’m alone at night

For the stirrings of the conscience
And the trembling of the truth
Break loose on me like hormones
Break loose on the youth

The voice finally says, Well, finally
You’re back to Me in the end
Go and see or write or call and say,
“Good morning, friend.”

The white of gospel hope in songs like 1986’s masterpiece “Little White Church”:

THE LITTLE WHITE CHURCH

It must have been a piece of very hallowed ground
For many years ago they put a firm foundation down
And every Sunday morning every seat was always filled
At the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

There must have been a thousand brides and grooms walk the aisle
And many a mother praying for many a wayward child
And there was often weeping for a loved one, cold and still
In the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

It was there I learned songs like “Power in the Blood”
And “Standing, Standing on the Promises of God”
And “Jesus Saves, Jesus Saves”
In the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

By the pulpit at the altar many a knee has humbled down
There were many tears of joy for the lost sheep that was found
Many words of comfort preached that are comforting me still
From the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

Like a beacon to my soul are the lessons that I learned
A solid rock to hold on no matter where I turn
Hope and consolation are my promises still
From the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

It was there I learned songs like “Power in the Blood”
And “Standing, Standing on the Promises of God”
And “Jesus Saves, Jesus Saves”
In the little white church, just up the road, there on the right, at the top of the hill

And so they go. For over 700 pages. And, just like that, the power of Johnny Cash is revealed: it was always true that, while he may have held the pen, he was writing our song. That is why, in his words, the junkie found a fellow addict, the patriot found a flag-waver, the protestor found a conscientious objector, the Indian found an advocate, the Christian found both a sinner and a saint, and the prisoner found a fellow inmate. Perhaps the greatest loss is that for many of these the words are left tuneless. The words themselves are melodious though, leaving the reader to set them to his or her own tune. In that way, in death as in life, Cash’s words become our own.