What do you think?
Rate this book
33⅓ Main Series #80
Johnny Cash's American Recordings
A superb investigation of what is arguably Johnny Cash's greatest album, focusing on his enduring mythology. >
- GenresMusicNonfictionBiography
224 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2011
14 people are currently reading
362 people want to read
About the author
Tony Tost
8 books19 followersI'm the author of two full length poetry books, Complex Sleep (Iowa 2007: Kuhl House Poets series) and Invisible Bride (LSU 2004: Walt Whitman Award), and one chapbook, World Jelly (Effing 2005). I'm currently writing a prose book on Johnny Cash's first American Recordings album, which will be published by Continuum Books in their 33 1/3 series.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
May 25, 2015
More often than not contemporary music books (as in rock and roll, country, etc.) don’t work all that well for me. They can often be dry affairs, containing diligent cataloguings of recording sessions, band fights, drinking, sex and drugs. The music and its maker(s) are rarely captured. For the most part the magic of song and singer exists outside of any book. However, on occasion a book will come along that does capture that magic. Recently, I felt Keith Richards’ autobiography Life accomplished that fusion, since it introduced the reader to the Rolling Stone wild man, who is also much more than that image – but without yielding an inch of that persona. The success of that effort was made possible because of Richards’ honesty and his voice (aided by the very capable writing and organization of journalist (and friend) James Fox).
Another candidate for great rock and roll books would be Greil Marcus’ The Old Weird America: The World of Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes, which takes a different, but necessary tack (given the cryptic reticence of its subject). But Marcus is like a rock and roll poet, well equipped to deal with such an elusive subject as Dylan. He pulls stuff out of a mythic cloud of consciousness, making connections and comparisons that can sometimes seem tenuous, even high risk, but at their best profound, touching your very soul.
Tony Tost, who happens to be a poet (and a good one), has taken the poet’s approach in his treatment (which is part of the 33 1/3 series) of Johnny Cash and his first American Recordings album. In the early pages, I wondered if the book was as much about Tost as it was Cash, with the dizzying flood of old timey names and albums that would sometimes go well beyond American roots music, touching on the Anglo-Saxon poet, Caedmon (a real reach), David Koresh, and mass murderers from 1994 (the year of the album). But, even though these parallels and connections are hit or miss, it all turns out to be foundational stuff. Tost is actually more anchored to his material than Marcus. Oh, he riffs and jams on culture and country music, but he always circles back to the Man in Black and his great album.
The core of the book is meant to be the first American Recordings album. And Tost dutifully works his way through the album, but the book reads more like a meditative biography. Tost clearly loves Cash, but he’s not afraid to say “bullshit” from time to time. For example, the “Man in Black” bit goes way back, and Tost writes that initially there was no message meant by the attire other than the color played well off of Cash’s dark and brooding (and gaunt) features. The book is filled with tantalizing nuggets that left me feeling I was only getting a tiny portion of what Tost knows about Cash. One aspect of Cash that Tost returns to again and again is that Cash was a very dark character. We all know that, but what we know is still a packaged version. Tost takes it beyond the package into something weirder, but truer:
Cash himself feared and recoiled from what he found lurking inside himself. “One time I remember going into my camper truck and looking at myself in the mirror,” he recalled in 1975, detailing a visionary and narcotic encounter with his own resemblance. “I put my hand over my face and peeped through my fingers at myself and said, “Let’s kill us.”
Us? Whoa! Cash sounds like a hillbilly Gollum on a binge. Tost also suggests that the famous marriage with June was often a difficult one. Cash was deeply in love with June, but his own difficulties with himself (and the various places that would lead him), must of made that marriage a hard one on June. One of those dark places was an actual cave, the Nickajack Cave, outside Chattanooga, Tennessee. This was the site of Cash’s 1968 suicide attempt, where he crawled deep into the cave to die. At some point he had a vision, and crawled back out to find June and his mother waiting for him. Tost seems to think this amazing story is almost too good to be true (or as Myth, it would work even better), but he doesn’t dismiss it, and his account is beautifully rendered.
But this is a music book, and Tost gives you plenty of that. The Cash that emerges from these pages is an artist who is very aware of what he sings and how he sings it. Tost recounts several instances where Cash, singing another artist’s songs, would deftly add or drop a line, which in turn would make the song wrap more securely around Cash’s persona. At this point in Cash’s career, he was mostly singing other artists’ songs, but he was still capable of writing powerful songs of his own. Tost’s account of Cash’s writing of “The Man Comes Around,” is both fascinating and bizarre (given the obscure biblical source material). The fact that this song, with its history, would eventually lead off the remake of Dawn of the Dead seems entirely appropriate.
If you like Cash, and you’re into American Myths and Roots Music, this book is a must-read. I hope Tost expands upon what he’s started here. If he does so, it will be something special. It already is.
Another candidate for great rock and roll books would be Greil Marcus’ The Old Weird America: The World of Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes, which takes a different, but necessary tack (given the cryptic reticence of its subject). But Marcus is like a rock and roll poet, well equipped to deal with such an elusive subject as Dylan. He pulls stuff out of a mythic cloud of consciousness, making connections and comparisons that can sometimes seem tenuous, even high risk, but at their best profound, touching your very soul.
Tony Tost, who happens to be a poet (and a good one), has taken the poet’s approach in his treatment (which is part of the 33 1/3 series) of Johnny Cash and his first American Recordings album. In the early pages, I wondered if the book was as much about Tost as it was Cash, with the dizzying flood of old timey names and albums that would sometimes go well beyond American roots music, touching on the Anglo-Saxon poet, Caedmon (a real reach), David Koresh, and mass murderers from 1994 (the year of the album). But, even though these parallels and connections are hit or miss, it all turns out to be foundational stuff. Tost is actually more anchored to his material than Marcus. Oh, he riffs and jams on culture and country music, but he always circles back to the Man in Black and his great album.
The core of the book is meant to be the first American Recordings album. And Tost dutifully works his way through the album, but the book reads more like a meditative biography. Tost clearly loves Cash, but he’s not afraid to say “bullshit” from time to time. For example, the “Man in Black” bit goes way back, and Tost writes that initially there was no message meant by the attire other than the color played well off of Cash’s dark and brooding (and gaunt) features. The book is filled with tantalizing nuggets that left me feeling I was only getting a tiny portion of what Tost knows about Cash. One aspect of Cash that Tost returns to again and again is that Cash was a very dark character. We all know that, but what we know is still a packaged version. Tost takes it beyond the package into something weirder, but truer:
Cash himself feared and recoiled from what he found lurking inside himself. “One time I remember going into my camper truck and looking at myself in the mirror,” he recalled in 1975, detailing a visionary and narcotic encounter with his own resemblance. “I put my hand over my face and peeped through my fingers at myself and said, “Let’s kill us.”
Us? Whoa! Cash sounds like a hillbilly Gollum on a binge. Tost also suggests that the famous marriage with June was often a difficult one. Cash was deeply in love with June, but his own difficulties with himself (and the various places that would lead him), must of made that marriage a hard one on June. One of those dark places was an actual cave, the Nickajack Cave, outside Chattanooga, Tennessee. This was the site of Cash’s 1968 suicide attempt, where he crawled deep into the cave to die. At some point he had a vision, and crawled back out to find June and his mother waiting for him. Tost seems to think this amazing story is almost too good to be true (or as Myth, it would work even better), but he doesn’t dismiss it, and his account is beautifully rendered.
But this is a music book, and Tost gives you plenty of that. The Cash that emerges from these pages is an artist who is very aware of what he sings and how he sings it. Tost recounts several instances where Cash, singing another artist’s songs, would deftly add or drop a line, which in turn would make the song wrap more securely around Cash’s persona. At this point in Cash’s career, he was mostly singing other artists’ songs, but he was still capable of writing powerful songs of his own. Tost’s account of Cash’s writing of “The Man Comes Around,” is both fascinating and bizarre (given the obscure biblical source material). The fact that this song, with its history, would eventually lead off the remake of Dawn of the Dead seems entirely appropriate.
If you like Cash, and you’re into American Myths and Roots Music, this book is a must-read. I hope Tost expands upon what he’s started here. If he does so, it will be something special. It already is.
Read
September 7, 2023The first 33 1/3 I've read from a library - because it's not that they don't tend to carry them, more that as a rule they have the ones that interest me least, the canonical ones where even if you like the album then having been within ten feet of a copy of Mojo means you already know everything you need to about its story. And yes, on that count this one is borderline. But Tost does more than trot out the stories about Rick Rubin stripping the sound down, the Viper Room &c - he's not interested in another story of a late career comeback, but in the way the album inscribed Cash into myth, represented "his arrival into permanence". The remarkable thing is that he manages to do this theme justice while also being clear-eyed about the dud records before and after, the tracks that don't come off, the gaps. Working on a grand canvas, while also going into the line by line and even word by word specifics of how Cash changed songs around, and how that affects their impact, he's created a worthy companion to the Oedipus At Colonus of country albums.
November 14, 2024
Another thesis read — my first of the 33 1/3 series. As a whole, the book is quite fascinating, poetic and insightful as it weaves Cash’s mythic identity to his (and America’s) humanity.
I cannot agree with all that Tost argues — I actually find Cash’s covers of “Why Me Lord” and “Bird On A Wire,” and his “Redemption” to be equally necessary strokes in the artistry of the album, answers to the ever-violent despair of its beast. Tost is surprised by such inexplicable lightness of sound and imagery. To me, and to Cash, salvation requires such a mix. Look no further than the dogs on the cover. The album does not exist without both.
There are plenty of passages to which I’ll return in my writing, but the “The Gift” and “Delia” were particularly penetrative chapters. I’d like a reread, and perhaps a copy (for those of you thinking of Christmas gifts).
I cannot agree with all that Tost argues — I actually find Cash’s covers of “Why Me Lord” and “Bird On A Wire,” and his “Redemption” to be equally necessary strokes in the artistry of the album, answers to the ever-violent despair of its beast. Tost is surprised by such inexplicable lightness of sound and imagery. To me, and to Cash, salvation requires such a mix. Look no further than the dogs on the cover. The album does not exist without both.
There are plenty of passages to which I’ll return in my writing, but the “The Gift” and “Delia” were particularly penetrative chapters. I’d like a reread, and perhaps a copy (for those of you thinking of Christmas gifts).
February 18, 2016
Bound: Double the Money
Two Looks Back at the Mythic Johnny Cash
John Hood / SunPost Weekly June 23, 2011
http://bit.ly/iE4YGs
With few exceptions, mythbusters are a bore. I mean, why the hell would anyone wanna rid the world of something as sacred and special and colorful as myth? It is myth that helps us live in and through this world. And it is myth that becomes legend.
Of all America’s myths, Johnny Cash stands among the most mythic. And as Tony Tost proves in his detailed look at the man’s American Recordings (Continuum $12.95), it is his myth which matters most.
Make that myths. Like Whitman, Cash contained the proverbial multitudes. He’s both “the lean fierce wildman of the late 1950s and early 1960s,” and “the somber leviathan of the final decade.” There are the creation myths (The Gift that is that voice; the otherworldly chordings of “I Walk the Line”), and re-creation myths (Emo’s 1994; Rick Rubin’s living room). There are even re-re-creation myths (“Delia’s Gone” 1962, ‘69 and ‘94). There are mythic parallels in cinema (Robert Mitchum’s Preacher in Night of the Hunter; John Wayne’s cowboy persona), and in living myth itself (Caedmon, Whitman). It is that mythology which drives Tost. Why? Because in the end “the story is better than true.”
To get to the myths of the matter, Tost also scours the mystic (Jakob Boehme) and the obscure (Richard “Rabbit” Brown; Hasil Adkins). He cites Cash’s contemporaries, especially Kris Kristofferson, who considered his mythic friend a sorta “Abe Lincoln with a wild side.” Watching Johnny walk among the come-and-go's was akin to “watching an old coyote walk through a poodle party,” said Kris. And we see just what he means.
So does Tost — and then some. Tost not only gets to “the spot where songs come from.” he sees “the potential for lonesome weirdos to step out of the shadows and into a kind of redemption.” He traces Cash’s place “in a long lineage of armed hustlers and holy avengers,” and discovers “fierce images that could have been lifted from the notebooks of Townes Van Zandt or John Milton.” Tost cores the Cash mythology with the reverence it deserves, and in so doing gets to “the very logic of reckoning.”
You will of course want to re-listen to those American Recordings as you read into Tost’s mythology. You’ll undoubtedly want to seek some of the many moving images that are available online. But there’s a third kinda companion to this stirring set piece; that of the still. When Cash gets captured in moments often greater than word and more enduring even than movie.
For that you’ll want to go to Jim Marshall’s Pocket Cash (Chronicle Books $19.95), which features more than 100 images of The Man in Black beginning back when he was that “lean fierce wildman” Tost so reverently re-conjures, and through to the “somber leviathan” at the end. Reading about such fierceness is one thing of course; seeing it caught in the moment is another altogether. Marshall, who died last year at 74, shot Jimi at Monterey and The Beatles very last stand, but began shooting Johnny at Newport back in ‘62. It is his eye that has done much to make this myth into legend. And the photographs in this collection, many of which were posthumously shown at New York’s Morrison Hotel Gallery, are, as John Carter Cash writes in the introduction, simply “magic.”
Marshall was one of that rare breed of lensman who could “snap the shot they supernaturally know is coming, perfectly in time with the approaching instant” says the son, reminding us again of the father’s holy ghost. They don’t make myths like Johnny anymore. Chances are they cant.
Two Looks Back at the Mythic Johnny Cash
John Hood / SunPost Weekly June 23, 2011
http://bit.ly/iE4YGs
With few exceptions, mythbusters are a bore. I mean, why the hell would anyone wanna rid the world of something as sacred and special and colorful as myth? It is myth that helps us live in and through this world. And it is myth that becomes legend.
Of all America’s myths, Johnny Cash stands among the most mythic. And as Tony Tost proves in his detailed look at the man’s American Recordings (Continuum $12.95), it is his myth which matters most.
Make that myths. Like Whitman, Cash contained the proverbial multitudes. He’s both “the lean fierce wildman of the late 1950s and early 1960s,” and “the somber leviathan of the final decade.” There are the creation myths (The Gift that is that voice; the otherworldly chordings of “I Walk the Line”), and re-creation myths (Emo’s 1994; Rick Rubin’s living room). There are even re-re-creation myths (“Delia’s Gone” 1962, ‘69 and ‘94). There are mythic parallels in cinema (Robert Mitchum’s Preacher in Night of the Hunter; John Wayne’s cowboy persona), and in living myth itself (Caedmon, Whitman). It is that mythology which drives Tost. Why? Because in the end “the story is better than true.”
To get to the myths of the matter, Tost also scours the mystic (Jakob Boehme) and the obscure (Richard “Rabbit” Brown; Hasil Adkins). He cites Cash’s contemporaries, especially Kris Kristofferson, who considered his mythic friend a sorta “Abe Lincoln with a wild side.” Watching Johnny walk among the come-and-go's was akin to “watching an old coyote walk through a poodle party,” said Kris. And we see just what he means.
So does Tost — and then some. Tost not only gets to “the spot where songs come from.” he sees “the potential for lonesome weirdos to step out of the shadows and into a kind of redemption.” He traces Cash’s place “in a long lineage of armed hustlers and holy avengers,” and discovers “fierce images that could have been lifted from the notebooks of Townes Van Zandt or John Milton.” Tost cores the Cash mythology with the reverence it deserves, and in so doing gets to “the very logic of reckoning.”
You will of course want to re-listen to those American Recordings as you read into Tost’s mythology. You’ll undoubtedly want to seek some of the many moving images that are available online. But there’s a third kinda companion to this stirring set piece; that of the still. When Cash gets captured in moments often greater than word and more enduring even than movie.
For that you’ll want to go to Jim Marshall’s Pocket Cash (Chronicle Books $19.95), which features more than 100 images of The Man in Black beginning back when he was that “lean fierce wildman” Tost so reverently re-conjures, and through to the “somber leviathan” at the end. Reading about such fierceness is one thing of course; seeing it caught in the moment is another altogether. Marshall, who died last year at 74, shot Jimi at Monterey and The Beatles very last stand, but began shooting Johnny at Newport back in ‘62. It is his eye that has done much to make this myth into legend. And the photographs in this collection, many of which were posthumously shown at New York’s Morrison Hotel Gallery, are, as John Carter Cash writes in the introduction, simply “magic.”
Marshall was one of that rare breed of lensman who could “snap the shot they supernaturally know is coming, perfectly in time with the approaching instant” says the son, reminding us again of the father’s holy ghost. They don’t make myths like Johnny anymore. Chances are they cant.
June 4, 2012
I'm a Cash junkie so I probably would have enjoyed it no matter what, but Tony Tost has put much style and heart into this little book. Much like his subject here, Mr. Tost is a mighty poet.
A must read for Cash fans, and a should read for anyone interested in songwriting, myths, and that old, weird America.
A must read for Cash fans, and a should read for anyone interested in songwriting, myths, and that old, weird America.
April 25, 2016
I couldn't finish this short book. It's Crap. I have read other books in the series which provide a good background on the recording, the artist at that time, and the meaning of the songs. None of that is present here; just the author's invented mythology of Cash. Maybe I would have understood the "profundities" contained within if I had been stoned ...
February 11, 2025
Really enjoyed this. Went back to the album after reading and Tost helped me appreciate this album in many new and fresh ways. One point of personal disagreement (though, I'm not budging from the 5-star rating), I don't agree with his (repeated!) smashing of "Why Me Lord." I think this song fits perfectly within this album of Cash reflecting on his life, sins, shortcomings, love, faith, regrets, mythology, death, etc. I think the meat of the song is "I've wasted it... I know what I am..." Repentance. While, I don't think that's where Tost aims the brunt of his criticism. But, that personal preference aside (and, I am a Christian, see the rest of my goodreads shelves if that's not already obvious, so I'm fully aware that my presuppositions inform my opinion on this song), I loved the book and it only helped me love this beautiful album even more.
January 5, 2024
More like 3.5 stars, so I'm gonna round up.
There was one particular story that almost killed me in this book. Johnny Cash, at a low point, crawled into a cave to die. His goal was to get lost in the winding trails when the batteries of his flashlight died, and just lay there so no one would find his bones. At some point, in the total dark, he changed his mind and started moving blindly until he felt a breeze that led him to a light and a way out. That's the sort of stuff you do when you really want to punish yourself. And even reading that scared the shit out of me... keep me away from caves and darkness unless you want me kicking like a mule and screaming like a banshee. Johnny Cash was one unique dude.
There was one particular story that almost killed me in this book. Johnny Cash, at a low point, crawled into a cave to die. His goal was to get lost in the winding trails when the batteries of his flashlight died, and just lay there so no one would find his bones. At some point, in the total dark, he changed his mind and started moving blindly until he felt a breeze that led him to a light and a way out. That's the sort of stuff you do when you really want to punish yourself. And even reading that scared the shit out of me... keep me away from caves and darkness unless you want me kicking like a mule and screaming like a banshee. Johnny Cash was one unique dude.
January 15, 2024
The most punishingly self-indulgent one of the series yet, IMO. There’s a couple interesting bits about how the mythic persona of Johnny Cash is tied to the American Myth, etc. and how this record is so deeply concerned with the American Myth itself, but it’s lost for me in a sea of that specific flavor of “see how much I can reference” academic writing. Also loses a point for a shockingly bad take on Keb Mo’s cover of Folsom prison blues that manages both to imply that Mo was not a significant enough artist to warrant being involved in a covers album, and to suggest that Keb Mo must have been unfamiliar with the music of Johnny Cash prior to the recording of said album in 2002, which is Wild.
January 27, 2023
This is not a very good book. The author seems to have contempt for Cash and all the music he recorded, save a select few albums/songs and the titular album. I was expecting some behind the scenes information about how the songs were selected etc, but this book is mostly a longform review of "American Recordings." There wasn't much research done for it, and no one involved with the album was interviewed. A very avoidable book.
July 5, 2025
Disappointing that only 1/3 of the book is about the “American recordings”. While the other info was quite interesting, I would have liked to learn more technical aspects of the process. Some insights from Rubin would have helped.
August 27, 2019
An engaging and thought-provoking read if not always an entirely pleasant one.
September 7, 2025
Great write up about Cash's superb comeback album. Along the way it delves into Cash's backstory and the themes and history of the songs... Great read.
May 5, 2020
One of the heavier going 33 1/3 books, which nonetheless explains the renaissance of the Man in Black.
July 1, 2016
Books in the 33 1/3 series are often short - being part of the appeal. American Recordings is one of the longer entries in the series, but by no means a "long book" in the larger context of literature and criticism. However, it does feel like it drags on. This is not to say that it's "bad" by any means. It feels like it should be read in short bursts instead of in one sitting. It plays out like a collection of essays delving into/building up the myth of Johnny Cash.
Author Tony Tost makes it clear upfront that this isn't a biography delving into the Rubin sessions, though some observations do come up. This is not particularly unheard of for 33 1/3, so coming in with that context will greatly enhance the experience for the reader. It's also important to remember that Tost's background is in poetry, giving him more of an emotional investment in Cash's work than logistical. At times, this works brilliantly and at others it feels a bit like a stretch. His insights on Cash's symbolic Americanisms are truly captivating. Bits like comparing "Birds On A Wire" to Cash's conspicuous like of mention of sex in his work fall a little flat and seem a bit out of range. Don't let the 3 stars fool you. This is a great read for Cash fans looking for more pathos than ethos. The sections that hit that mark are exciting and worth the read. I appreciate that he didn't try to destroy the myth and instead leaned into Cash's larger than life persona. Reading it will make you want to dive right back into those American sessions and explore the beauty of his late career.
Author Tony Tost makes it clear upfront that this isn't a biography delving into the Rubin sessions, though some observations do come up. This is not particularly unheard of for 33 1/3, so coming in with that context will greatly enhance the experience for the reader. It's also important to remember that Tost's background is in poetry, giving him more of an emotional investment in Cash's work than logistical. At times, this works brilliantly and at others it feels a bit like a stretch. His insights on Cash's symbolic Americanisms are truly captivating. Bits like comparing "Birds On A Wire" to Cash's conspicuous like of mention of sex in his work fall a little flat and seem a bit out of range. Don't let the 3 stars fool you. This is a great read for Cash fans looking for more pathos than ethos. The sections that hit that mark are exciting and worth the read. I appreciate that he didn't try to destroy the myth and instead leaned into Cash's larger than life persona. Reading it will make you want to dive right back into those American sessions and explore the beauty of his late career.
May 18, 2013
This is another in the 33 1/3 series, this time covering Johnny Cash's American Recordings, the album that sparked his resurgence at the end of his career and life. A mix of new original material and covers of songs both traditional and written by others, American Recordings is an amazing album, and Tost does a great job of delving into its mysteries.
Tost centers his book on the myth of Johnny Cash, which Cash himself created, and looks at how each song on the album (as well as some that appear on the albums that followed) fits into or against that myth. Tost's writing about "Delia" and Cash's criminal and outlaw personas is particularly illuminating. Another highlight is the examination of Cash's take faith and redemption as seen in songs like "Down By the Train", "Redemption", and "Bird on a Wire". I especially liked the parts that compared Cash and Tom Waits as explorers of Americana and as mythmakers.
Tost has very strong opinions about Cash and his oeuvre, and that is both the biggest advantage of this book, and a small disadvantage. Tost has no qualms about making it really clear when he thinks that a song choice or rendition of a song did not work, and I didn't always agree with him (i.e., his assessment of "Bird on a Wire"). But Tost does explain his reasoning and make his case very well, for both the things he praises and the things he pans. I really liked his level of investment and thought about his subject matter.
Tost centers his book on the myth of Johnny Cash, which Cash himself created, and looks at how each song on the album (as well as some that appear on the albums that followed) fits into or against that myth. Tost's writing about "Delia" and Cash's criminal and outlaw personas is particularly illuminating. Another highlight is the examination of Cash's take faith and redemption as seen in songs like "Down By the Train", "Redemption", and "Bird on a Wire". I especially liked the parts that compared Cash and Tom Waits as explorers of Americana and as mythmakers.
Tost has very strong opinions about Cash and his oeuvre, and that is both the biggest advantage of this book, and a small disadvantage. Tost has no qualms about making it really clear when he thinks that a song choice or rendition of a song did not work, and I didn't always agree with him (i.e., his assessment of "Bird on a Wire"). But Tost does explain his reasoning and make his case very well, for both the things he praises and the things he pans. I really liked his level of investment and thought about his subject matter.
May 20, 2012
When I first started reading this, I thought to myself "This is the most overblown, self-possessed, conceited, smug, overwrought, pretentious piece of literary crap I have ever read." Now that I have finished it, I KNOW it is the most overblown, self-possessed, conceited, smug, overwrought, pretentious piece of literary crap I have ever read.
To wit:
In reference to the song "Let the Train Blow the Whistle", Tost wrote
"Perhaps the song even reveals where Cash believed the reckoning between God and America finally takes place; within the emotional, psychological and spiritual interiors of the republic's citizens, the truly apocalyptic battleground." (Loc. 812)
About the track "Thirteen" he wrote: "On the page, 'Thirteen' is a competent lyrical exercise in dramatic self-pity and generalized menace, nearly a caricature of Cash's persona; it embraces the Man in Black's outlaw mythology without including either the spiritual ache or the knowing wit that were also in his possession."(Loc. 1072)
And I'm still trying to figure out just what the hell Tost was doing with Chapter 21--Permanence (3)...
This series, 33 1/3, has a reputation for unevenness, and I would have to say I hope so. As this is the first I have read, I do hope they can't all be this bad. I don't think Johnny would recognize his work or himself in this book. It gets one star only because I can't give it zero.
To wit:
In reference to the song "Let the Train Blow the Whistle", Tost wrote
"Perhaps the song even reveals where Cash believed the reckoning between God and America finally takes place; within the emotional, psychological and spiritual interiors of the republic's citizens, the truly apocalyptic battleground." (Loc. 812)
About the track "Thirteen" he wrote: "On the page, 'Thirteen' is a competent lyrical exercise in dramatic self-pity and generalized menace, nearly a caricature of Cash's persona; it embraces the Man in Black's outlaw mythology without including either the spiritual ache or the knowing wit that were also in his possession."(Loc. 1072)
And I'm still trying to figure out just what the hell Tost was doing with Chapter 21--Permanence (3)...
This series, 33 1/3, has a reputation for unevenness, and I would have to say I hope so. As this is the first I have read, I do hope they can't all be this bad. I don't think Johnny would recognize his work or himself in this book. It gets one star only because I can't give it zero.
October 13, 2013
The 33 1/3 series of books each analyze an album in its entirety and comment on its cultural and artistic significance - in this case, Washington poet Tony Tost plumbs the depths of Johnny Cash's 1994 American Recordings in regard to the place that Cash's late career resurgence has within establishing the legacy of the Cash mythos. Tost thoroughly examines each track, its history, and many of the themes and images that Cash developed throughout his career. Tost's essays are thoughtful, well-researched, and well-argued, and his understanding of the Cash canon and mythos are impressive, leaving the reader with meaningful insight into various aspects of the album and how it both encompasses and defies who Cash is. Tost is occasionally a little abstruse and abstract, and his points occasionally get lost in deviations that seem more poetic than expository in nature, but I suppose that is part of the appeal of having a poet write a book like this. As a fan of Cash, particularly of the American series, I felt as though Tost mostly nailed the spirit and letter of the album and of how it fits into Cash's career, even though I would have liked to have had more of a deliberate thesis and conclusion to his discussion. It's still a worthwhile read for fans of Cash and particularly of this album and the American series, and I look forward to reading more books from this series.
June 4, 2013
The mythos of Johnny Cash and how it was restored/perverted by his late-in-life work with Rick Rubin is the central theme here. But poet Tony Tost also gets into the nitty-gritty of how we selectively perceive an artist's work and what that can tell us about ourself and our culture.
Typically people only remember two phases of Cash's career: the early-but-not-that-early prison recordings era and the Rubin-driven late-career stunt cover resurrection of the "American Recordings" series. Tost cuts through the haze that renders his less-likeable middle period all but invisible while honouring the effectiveness of "American I." But he also breaks down why the record was so effective and, perhaps more importantly, why America was so important to Cash (and vice versa).
It's actually a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of pages but Tost handles it with terrific style, citing Cash's contemporaries from almost every decade along the way and giving the proceedings a very mystical, poetic tenor. I'd recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in the man in black.
Typically people only remember two phases of Cash's career: the early-but-not-that-early prison recordings era and the Rubin-driven late-career stunt cover resurrection of the "American Recordings" series. Tost cuts through the haze that renders his less-likeable middle period all but invisible while honouring the effectiveness of "American I." But he also breaks down why the record was so effective and, perhaps more importantly, why America was so important to Cash (and vice versa).
It's actually a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of pages but Tost handles it with terrific style, citing Cash's contemporaries from almost every decade along the way and giving the proceedings a very mystical, poetic tenor. I'd recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in the man in black.
June 27, 2012
An excellent book that is more than willing to be hagiographic about Cash, but also quick to tear into hagiography he cannot abide. Tost readily concedes that Cash made some weak albums in his long career and even the American series of albums has some poor choices in it. Still, he examines with rigor and poetry the songs on American Recordings and notes connections to songs picked for subsequent albums. He is respectful of Cash's efforts to mythologize himself and lends a hand where he can, but he is quick to call shenanigans where he sees exploitation or a cop-out.
October 21, 2013
Saying that the first few chapters are overblown might be saying something too kind. Once the book settles down and stops trying so hard, focusing on the individual songs instead of on the myth of Cash and by extension America, things improve. There are some interesting insights hidden in the middle, as well as a lot of context, but there is also a tendency to reach for questionable metaphors. Worth reading if you're a fan of the album though.
June 29, 2011
Hmm...I liked the concept of the book, the idea of searching out the myth that is Johnny Cash. But, the approach took too much of a detailed look at the various allusions, which, although focusing through a microscope left the book to look a little scattered instead. However, I definitely appreciate the idea that the absence of Cash has left a void in the American folk landscape.
July 14, 2012
Yes, this book reads as if it is a research paper and the author comes off highly pretentious as mentioned in earlier reviews. However, Tost did embed many jewels of information within the book mostly about the songs (their origins and histories) to make the book a worthwhile read - especially if your a fan of Cash's American Recordings projects.
July 27, 2011
Great insight into Cashs history
April 21, 2012
Provided a portal deep inside a record I have long admired, but now know how to hear more deeply (and maybe love a little).
May 2, 2012
Not great, the author seemed more interested in showing off his writing skills as oppossed to looking clearly at the subject. Reminded me of an undergraduate research paper...
July 5, 2012
Great perspective on Johnny Cash in general using his first record done with Rick Rubin as the center of the book.
August 19, 2014
An interesting conceit: the album as a mythic biography (autobiography?) of the artist. Sometimes full of sound and fury, signifying nothing - but it's a very well-written sound and fury.
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews