It's a funny thing, being a child of a celebrity and trying to pursue a career in the same line of work that your famous parent does. Often you're written off as a talent less hack riding the coattails of daddy's or mommy's fame before you even get out of the gate. Or people get confused if you do something that differs greatly in its artistic approach or its ideology from what your famous parent is known for. It can be hard to successfully establish your own identity. But many successful actors and musicians have managed to do it - makes sense, because of the whole genetics thing. And Rosanne Cash is a good example of this.
I knew nothing about Ms. Cash until this year. I had a lot of respect for her father, Johnny Cash, but I didn't known that he had a daughter who sang. Truth be told, all I know about Johnny is a few songs here and there, so it was actually independent of his legacy that I chose to give Rosanne's music a try. Apparently she's been a respected name in the country music biz since not long after I was born (the late 70's), and I'm just catching up with her newest album, Black Cadillac, in a later phase of her career where she hasn't had a radio hit in a while, but is garnering a lot of critical acclaim. And I can see why. It's all in the details. The sound of her music is fairly diverse - sometimes grabbing bits and pieces of the old "outlaw" sound her father was known for, but mixing in elements of rock, folk, and pop music in ways that don't always guarantee chart success. None of it's unapproachable, but the downtrodden subject matter may keep radio at arms' length. She's got the slightly weary voice of a country singer who's seen a lot of hard days, but at the same time, there is a definite sense of hope and humanity that shines through, so Black Cadillac isn't depressing for depressing's sake. It's just that these are the kind of songs you'll get when you lose three parents (her father, her mother Vivian Liberto Cash, and her stepmother June Carter Cash) in the span of three years. Sometimes her grief is expressed in a brooding country-rock groove, and sometimes it breaks through to wisdom on the other side in the form of lilting folk music. And then there's everything in between. No two of her songs (at least on this album) sound alike, so there's a lot to choose from, and I really appreciate the diversity.
The biggest difference between Rosanne and Johnny (other than the fact that I greatly prefer her voice to his) seems to be in matters of religion. Johnny, for all of his faults and troubles, started and ended in a place (at least from what I've gathered) that was pretty clear about his Christian faith. Rosanne, for whatever reason, seems to have a tougher time with her father's beliefs as she deals with his passing, so there are a few moments which are (to me, anyway) slightly uncomfortable as she picks apart some of these beliefs and admits that she wants no part of some of this stuff. The soul-searching is honest and God is definitely found in a few of these songs, but Black Cadillac isn't meant to be a Gospel record. It is by no means an anti-Christian record, either, as the skeptical moments only really play into two songs, but I'll admit those two songs do sting a little.
In general, Black Cadillac is a rare example of a record that is honest and poignant - you might say it's "a coming of age" record - but that doesn't use the subject matter to drag the music down into a place of murky, unmemorable obscurity like it can for some songwriters. Writing a "mature" record where the acoustics still glisten and the melodies still pack a punch isn't an easy trick. It helps to balance out the hard truths and hard skepticism presented in the lyrics, and the sum total of these elements ends up being the best "country" album I've listened to since the Dixie Chicks' Home. (Well, unless you count Nickel Creek. It seems anything country-influenced that I get into is from an artist who likes to push the envelope.)
Black Cadillac
There was a black sky of rain, none of it fell
One of us gets to go to heaven, one has to stay here in hell...
After a brief clip of an old home recording where we hear Johnny Cash calling out to his daughter, a rumbling bass line kicks in, immediately drawing us in to a dark, cloudy place as Rosanne sings about the car that drove her father to his funeral. In one sense, she's using the song and the entire album to say goodbye, but in another sense, she's wrestling with some of her issues regarding his being out on the road and apparently missing a chunk of her childhood. As she explains it, "You were always rolling, but those wheels burned your life." She describes the world without him as "lonely", and as the clean-cut electric guitars propel the chorus forward, she admits that "I guess it always was", basically admitting that her father was dead to her already. Making things even more haunting are the snippets of horns, which are either sampled from her father's song "Ring of Fire" or played to mimic that song. It's an emotional piece and a compelling piece of music in its own right - you don't hear many songs in the rock or country genres that use bass as their lead instrument.
Radio Operator
Where are the messages for me?
The secret code from parts unknown
I'll ride the signal to the world
And to the girl from San Antone...
Brighter acoustic guitar picking characterizes this more upbeat song, a curious ode to the radio waves that perhaps questions why the powers that be in broadcasting won't cut her much of a break these days. The music has a bit of that "two-step" feel to it, perhaps more closely resembling her father's work as a nod to simpler days. I love the way that the notes just come sprinkling out of both the acoustic and electric guitars on this one - it's definitely the catchiest track on the album. Still, there's a feeling of alienation, since her questions seem to hint at an understanding that this powerful communication tool is now more geared toward commerce than to sending "secret code" to people who love music and are looking for an artist who matches their personal wavelength.
I Was Watching You
Church wedding, they spent all they had
Now the deal is done to become Mom and Dad...
This gentle piano ballad has a solemn feel to it, as if you've just stepped into a bright, quiet room where an important ceremony is being performed. Rosanne sings of looking down on her parents as they recited their wedding vows - either this is figurative, talking about looking down from heaven before she was born, or more literal, talking about observing her father's second marriage to June Carter. Either way, this sense that she was looking on with approval and knowing that "Long before life, there was love" gets turned around in the most heart-wrenching way at the end of the song, when her parents have passed, and she is now the one being looked upon from heaven by loving parents: "I'll be watching you from above/'Cause long after life, there is love." It's delicately performed, and you can almost her Rosanne fighting back the tears as she sings.
Burn Down This Town
The sky is falling with the ash and mud
They got a nickel promise, yeah, blood to blood...
This one's got more of an angular, country-rock beat to it - maybe even a bit of blues as far as the chord progression goes. Rosanne is looking back on past memories of a town she grew up in - they may actually be metaphors for parts of her life she no longer wishes to visit. Her voice strikes the right balance between "gutsy" and "mournful" as she bitterly instructs some unnamed arson to "just finish the job" and set fire to all of it. I think that if the song bounced along at a slightly faster pace, it might build up enough heat to become a real barn-burner, but as it is, it's fairly tense and sassy.
God Is in the Roses
The sun is on the cemetery, leaves are on the stones
There never was a place on earth that felt so much like home...
Along with "I Was Watching You", this song (which seems to be another piano ballad at first, but quickly adds acoustic guitar and some other folksy, strummed instrument that I can't identify) is probably the most affirming one on the record in terms of spirituality - here, Rosanne is able to look upon the tragedy of losing so many loved ones in such a short span of time and see how "God is in the roses, the petals, and the thorns". There's a brightness to this song, a sense of the sky clearing and Rosanne looking up with a smile and knowing that there's something valuable to be learned as she goes through the ashes of what were perhaps fragile relationships with her parents.
House on the Lake
I miss the sounds of Tennessee
The smell of heavy rain
The roses in the garden
The life before the pain...
If you saw the movie Walk the Line, then you know what this song is about. (Rosanne might actually have issues with that movie, since it kind of vilified her mother, but that's another story.) The acoustic guitar spills out a strong melody line which Rosanne follows, poring over memories of a house that her father bought in Tennessee, and as that guitar and a mandolin intermingle, it's easy to picture yourself on some backwoods road, eagerly anticipating the moment that placid lake and the house perched on its shore come into view. Rosanne is going over a struggle her family had regarding whether they should sell the house, and her position is simple: "Love and years were not for sale". I go back and forth as to whether this one or "Radio Operator" is my favorite track on the album. Again, Rosanne's slightly pained but lovely voice does such a good job of communicating the memories of childhood - some good and perhaps some bad - that she's going to fight to not let go of.
The World Unseen
So I will look for you in Memphis and the miles between
I will look for you in morphine and in dreams
I will look for you, the rhythm of my bloodstream...
Bringing in the familiar (to country music fans, anyway) sound of the steel guitar, this slow ballad softly calls out across open plains like a good Over the Rhine track. It's just as rife with the unexpected pairing of religious references ("Westward leading, still proceeding to the world unseen") and troubled, broken admissions of relationships that don't work and solace sought in addictive substances. It's unclear whether she's trying to retrace the steps of her father in order to understand him better, or whether she's ruminating over something painful like a divorce. Whatever your take, it's a song that warrants further analysis - perhaps a bit sleepy in the music department, but worth paying attention to.
Like Fugitives
Don't send me no more letters
With your ignorance and rage
I don't want your tired religion
I'm not a soul you need to save...
I'm not against the use of programming and more modern production techniques, or the hybridizing of country music with pop, but I must admit that the programmed drums in this song's intro and verses do seem to suck a little of the attention out of its brooding melody. Perhaps the production plays it too soft when a song like this really ought to have more bite. At the same time, the thing she's sinking her teeth into here is religion, so maybe it's OK that the blow was softened a bit. Here she seems to be coping more specifically with the loss of her mother, and perhaps some of the scorn that her parents got for splitting up from a highly conservative, religious audience is fueling her response here: "It's a strange new world we live in, where the church leads you to hell, and the lawyers get the money, for the lives we divide and sell." It's a tough pill to swallow, but I can see how the scorn of judgmental Christians could lead her to stand squarely on the other side of the fence and say she wants no part of a group of people with nothing better to do than cast stones. By explaining that she's a bit of a fugitive, who has to stumble around a bit to find kindred souls in an underground world, shielded somewhat from the public eye, she's kind of identifying with the "outlaw" persona that her father portrayed so well, but doing it in a different generation with different social stigmas.
Dreams Are Not My Home
The future's ringing like a bell
The road to good intentions wanders all the way through hell...
Here's another more upbeat track with lively drums and electric guitars that carry just the right amount of twang. Despite the good performance from her band, I'd have to say that this is the album's weakest track - the chorus sounds powerful and memorable enough in terms of the melody, but Rosanne really stumbles with the rhyme "I wanna live inside the world, I wanna act like a real girl", which sounds like something I'd expect from a fluffy pop singer about half her age (and even then, it would be embarrassing). To her credit, the song seems to be taking a strong stand against pompous stuff shirts who sit inside their comfortable bubbles (she specifically mentions "steeples" at one point) and act like they can say how the world should be and what people should be doing. She'd rather walk the walk (or should it be "walk the line"?) instead of just talking the talk - you know, get out there, get her hands dirty, and not care who might judge her for the company she keeps. She's a pragmatist.
Like a Wave
My memory is filling with smoke
It's such a relief not to know
Except for the body and soul
There's nothing here I want to own...
Another quiet song appears here, with a rolling 3/4 rhythm and a watery lead guitar line that sounds like it's calling out into a dark night. The mood sounds almost romantic, but Rosanne's words reveal what sounds like a weariness as far as love is concerned: "I gave my love and it rolled like a wave, back through my history on toward the grave." The tone of it almost seems to say, "I've put in too much energy already and I'm done". A sad conclusion to whatever relationship she's talking about, but very eloquently stated.
World Without Sound
I wish a Christian, and knew what to believe
I could learn a lot of rules to put my mind at ease...
This one's a real shock to the system, kicking in with its dragging, lackadaisical rhythm, jaunty piano, and its squashed, circus-like horns. There's a sense of whimsy to it, but the mood actually turns out to be more sarcastic as she lashes out at Christians, rich people, famous people, basically anyone for whom she thinks, "Gee, it must be easy to live in the naive little world that you live in." Amidst it all, there's a central question, which seems to indicate that her loss of faith (or lack of it to begin with) has to do with the loss of her parents: "Who do I believe when they put you in the ground?" Musically speaking, it's quite an entertaining piece, but part of me can't help but feel like she's playing victim to the wrong perpetraitor here - especially with the last line, which states, "I cannot believe, 'cause no one in the Bible craves my company". Actually, you'd be surprised at the kind of people who show up in the Bible, but whatever. I won't throw stones because I know a lot of what gets through to the rest of the world regarding what Christians have to say has more to do with legalism than with humility and love.
The Good Intent
The ocean gave me room to roam
But the shore is calling out
So I will marry, build a home
And see what that's about...
After another old audio clip of Rosanne and her father, the album's final song finds the grown-up Rosanne giving up her days as a free spirit, a seafaring wanderer who "sailed in on the Good Intent" as if it were the name of her ship, and dropping anchor to start a "normal life" of sorts. It's another slow ballad in 3/4 time, somewhat resembling "Like a Wave" but filling in the gaps with gentle acoustic picking. She seems to be having a tough go of life as a housewife, as if there's a part of her who wants to sail away and find adventure again - there are these two sides of her that can't be reconciled, leaving the album hanging on the idea of an unwritten future. It's as if she's found a new freedom to be whoever she wants without her folks around to approve or disapprove, but there's a lot of weight riding on that decision.
0:71
This track is a minute and 11 seconds of silence - 1 second for each year of her father's life. A touching concept, but I find it gimmicky to have a track dedicated to silence on an album for any, reason, since it's listed on the back of the jewel case and it makes you think the album has one more song than it actually does.
I've been a bit liberal with my interpretations of a lot of these songs because I'm trying to indicate the mood that I'm hearing - I only know little snippets of the actual history of the Cash family and even if I were much more knowledgeable on the subject, I doubt these songs would fully reveal their meaning without room for interpretation. The upside of this is that even when it comes to the songs that I seem to disagree with, I suspect there might be more there to dig into. Ms. Cash has created a thoughtful collection of songs that holds together well and doesn't feel like a gimmick to cash in on the death of a famous musician who she just so happens to be related to. It's tough to put your heart and soul on display in the midst of tragedy without it looking like you're just putting your private life on parade to make a buck. But that thought never once crosses my mind because Rosanne handles her loss (and for the most part, the soul-searching provoked by that loss) with a large dose of class and grace.
ALBUM WORTH:
Black Cadillac $2
Radio Operator $2
I Was Watching You $1.50
Burn Down This Town $1
God Is in the Roses $1.50
House on the Lake $2
The World Unseen $1
Like Fugitives $.50
Dreams Are Not My Home $.50
Like a Wave $1
World Without Sound $.50
The Good Intent $1
0:71 $0
TOTAL: $14.50
Website: http://www.rosannecash.com
Recommended:
