Album Review: Johnny Cash – American VI: Ain’t No Grave

No other country music artist–past or present–has had a bigger impact on this reviewer than the Man in Black. With that said, I can’t help but share that there were some major fears and trepidations when it was announced that there would be a sixth release in the American series–particularly when it was reported to be mostly songs that hadn’t been chosen for other projects. Could a batch of “leftovers” really be strong enough to warrant the prestigious spot of representing Cash’s final legacy and album? Especially considering the frail and emotional masterpiece that was American V. Worries? For naught. That legacy? It was simply built upon with an incredible story and record that seems as if it’s told from the other side.

While American V was incredibly fragile and fraught with loss and death, Ain’t No Grave finds a somewhat stronger Johnny Cash at the microphone. This is also true with the instrumentation–while still rooted acoustically, there are more production layers.

But the brilliance of the album lies not with Cash’s voice–which is still weaker than what most fans should or will remember him for–or choices of instruments, but with the song selection. Somehow, Rick Rubin has collected ten songs following one theme–a theme that deals with the afterlife. If V dealt with June Carter’s death and Cash’s own mortality, VI reflects his passing and that all is right. Rubin did an incredible job in allowing Cash to write his own eulogy in song, his own tale of rapture, his own delivery to heaven. Cash tells us he’s found peace through lyrics and music.

The album opens with “Ain’t No Grave,” a rally cry that there isn’t a resting place strong enough to hold him down. It’s appropriate in both the sense of his legacy and his belief he would meet his maker. The song is backed by symbolic instrument choices of clanging chains and the ring of a bell. The bell reminds us of the passing of time with each ring. And the chains remind us that no one rattled the chains of the music establishment more than Cash (the famed photo of Cash flipping the bird to Music Row executives comes to mind). Combine that symbolism with an image of no earthly chains weighing him down and there is a powerful metaphor in the production choices alone.

On “Redemption Day,” Cash waxes poetically in our own thoughts, “How I weep for those that are gone.” The song deals with Cash’s own redemption, culminating with a chorus backed exclamation that he’s found “freedom.” Again, these are powerful analogies to Cash’s own afterlife story.

That same theme continues on “For The Good Times.” The lyrics tell the entire story: “I know it’s over but life goes on and this would keeps turning,” and “Let’s just be glad for the time we got to spend together.”

Cash plays the role of peacemaker on the anti-war and peace proposal, “Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream.” He imagines a world where every nation agrees to put down their arms, hold hands and bow heads together as one. Without sounding preachy or critical of any one particular administration or belief, he instead comes off like a tribal elder sharing a vision for the future. It’s a gorgeous and positive song of wishful thinking. If Cash has finally found peace, he now wishes it for the rest of the world.

The last song on the last Johnny Cash album could be the most appropriate of them all. A song titled “Aloha Oe”–meaning both “hello” and “goodbye” in Hawaiian–is both the most symbolic farewell as well as a sign of new beginnings. The traditional island tune is backed by beautiful layered guitars and ukulele strings. That Hawaiian theme is not by accident–it represents paradise and Cash’s own arrival there. You can almost picture Cash sitting on a big beach in the sky, arm in arm with June Carter, waving down that he’s made it to his destination.

Only the old western cover “Cool Water” feels a bit out of place on the album. Every other song feels carefully chosen in the next chapter of the American series–these just told from the great beyond. My only real complaint about the album is that it is the end of the story. Unfortunately, there are no more.

For nearly six decades, Cash redefined country music, fought personal demons and then found salvation in love and God. And all along the way, he took us with him for the ride. And as we are after American VI: Ain’t No Grave, we’re richer in soul and in spirit for going along with that journey. RIP, JR; there will never be another.