The first real test comes when the Carter family -- Mother Maybelle and her daughters June, Helen and Anita -- take the stage. Either producer Bob Johnson deserves some credit for some fine editing, or the boys at San Quentin were told to hold the wolf whistling down to a minimum, or June Carter has a heck of a lot more stage presence than she was ever given credit for or all of the above. The sassiest Carter (and Cash’s newlywed wife) immediately diffuses the awkward silence by saying “If you set back and relax and get your hands out of each other’s pockets we’ll entertain you.” She launches into some self-effacing humor, mocking her frilly getup. “I’ve got an announcement – This is as sexy as I’m gonna get! This is the top part, this is the bottom part, and that’s about it.” When Carter finishes her warm up with an amusing, short-of- risqué poem about a farmer and his cow, the crowd is already in her corner. Good thing, because the Carter Sisters’ two bluegrass numbers, ”The Last Thing on My Mind” and “Wildwood Flower” are boograss, the weakest racks on either of the 2 CDs. Mother Maybelle is waaaay out of tune on “Wildwood Flowers,” but her daughters cover well and she can sure pick a mean acoustic guitar.

When Cash steps on stage, he wastes no time capitalizing on the good will laid down by the previous acts. “Big River” is only 1:43, but is chock full of the ingredients that made him famous, including the freight train rhythm guitar, and his quavering, serious as a heart attack bass-baritone. He slows the pace with “I Still Miss Someone,” a short ballad, before revving up the beat again with “Wreck of the Old ’97,” in which Holland churns his high hat like a farm boy churning butter. Cash shows no let up, issuing a letter-perfect take on “I Walk the Line.” He scores points with the inmates when he makes a nearby camera man filming the concert the butt end of his joke: “You better not bend over with that camera like that!”

Two of Cash’s other signature tunes, “Folsom Prison Blues” and “Orange Blossom Special,” draw well-deserved hoots and hollers from the crowd. When Cash hits the line “I killed a man in Reno, just to watch him die” in “Folsom Prison Blues” he strikes a chord that undoubtedly made the guards clutch their rifles a little tighter. Cash may not have the harmonica chops of Paul Butterfield or Sonny Terry, but his full throttle blowing – while trading two harmonicas at once – fuels the “Orange Blossom Special”’s express train pace.

The Carter Family returns to the stage with June and Johnny piecing together a sloppy, but utterly charming “Jackson.” Proving they’re more than country singers, Johnny and June adapt John Sebastian’s “Darlin’ Companion,” with June continuing to display her sassy personality (check out her cutie pie dance moves in the documentary). The Carter Family rebounds from their initial failed gut-check with “Break My Mind,’ a song popularized by the George Hamilton IV (no relation to the bronzed actor) and the Boxtops, who turned the song into a circus-romp. The Carter’s sound much more relaxed and their harmonies mix like, well, a family. The first CD ends with “Starkville City Jail,” which Cash previews by relating a tale of being arrested (for the seventh time) for picking daisies, an act that cost him $36 and a night in jail. If Cash hadn’t already earned his jailbird wings, his profane swagger and the stark reality of the lyrics certainly scored points.

The second CD starts off a song written for the occasion, the somber “San Quentin,” which rubber stamps Cash’s rapport with the inmates. When he intones, “San Quentin what good do you think you do? Do you think I’ll be any different when you’re through? San Quentin, may you rot and burn in hell, may your walls fall and may I live to tell,” the room rocks, prisoners scale the tables, and the guards fear the worst. Cash is so convincing, so dead-on, had this musical Sampson said the magic word – RIOT – the walls of San Quentin would have indeed been pulled down faster than the walls of Jericho. Cash does the song start to finish a second time and the inmates are so entranced by his performance he gets an equally enthusiastic round of applause. Now that’s crowd control.

Cash’s take on Bob Dylan’s “Wanted Man” is next, and although Cash is reading the lyrics off of the music stand you’d never know it (the stand and lyrics are also present for “A Boy Named Sue” and “San Quentin” and certainly don’t encumber their performances either). Although Wootton’s guitar melody resembles the chirpy “Limbo Rock,” “Wanted Man” is as grave as “San Quentin,” the flip side of his “I’ve Been Everywhere,” the happy travelogue currently used to promote hotels. This is a travelogue of despair with the hellhounds nipping at the narrator’s trail. Cash lets his lascivious side peek out during the supercharged “Blisters,” growling, “She done tore my soul apart, she put blisters on my heart.” Perkins is right by his side, burning up the strings on his guitar.

Following the release of the album, Shel Silberstein’s sarcastic “A Boy Named Sue,” became the crossover song that catapulted Johnny Cash into superstardom, cracking the play lists of many FM rock stations. Judging by the applause, the tongue in cheek saga of a man determined to kill his father for giving him a woman’s name gives the inmates a few minutes to live vicariously through the song’s character. Perkins, the show’s MVP, manages to fit in snappy bursts of guitar throughout the performance.

Perkins whips the musicians and the crowd into a full boil with his raunchy rockabilly workout “Restless.” He later follows it up with “Outside Looking In,” a manic surf meets country instrumental. As a songwriter, the two story-toupeed guitar-picker provided Cash with another of his most memorable numbers, the sanctified spiritual “Daddy Sang Bass.” Perkins, the Carters, the Statler Brothers, and Cash all join together on stage and you can almost see the preacher man’s tent and his minions passing the hat. “Bass” is part of a four song full Holy Roller revival that includes “Ring of Fire,” “He Turned the Water Into Wine,” and “The Old Account Was Settled Long Ago.” These four songs alone are worth the price of the CDs (and look how much more you get!). Cash and his revue don’t preach per se – they know the concept of getting saved is a hard sell on rapists, robbers and killers. That doesn’t deter them from taking potentially heavy-handed material and making it doggone entertaining. Cash shares the vocal for “The Old Account Was Settled Long Ago,” with the still rockin’ Perkins and buoyant June Carter Cash, with Perkins’ vocal passage transforming it into foot stomping rockabilly. “He Turned the Water Into Wine,” a new tune, is more personal, written by Cash after a religious epiphany in Israel.

It’s hard to top off a near-perfect show, but Cash and his country cohorts end on a high note, blasting through a medley of a revamped “Folsom Prison Blues,” “I Walk the Line,” “Ring of Fire,” and “The Rebel, Johnny Yuma.” Each act gets a moment to shine: June Carter Cash tackles a verse of “Folsom Prison Blues,” the Carter Family warble triumphantly through a verse of “I Walk the Line,” The Tennessee Three kick out an instrumental interlude, with drummer Holland administering a beat down on his drum kit, and the Statler Brothers yippy yi oh cay ay through “Ring of Fire,” before Perkins takes a verse of “Folsom Prison” and Cash finishes with “Johnny Yuma” and another round of “Folsom.”

Cash and his revue are actually not the focal point of the documentary. Cash, sweating in earnest, is more glib and animated than usual; June Carter Cash is the comic cutup and eye candy, but her mother and sisters look so petrified bullet proof riot gear wouldn’t help. Carl Perkins is reduced to a few cameos and some wicked solos, and the Statler Brothers are disembodied voices. The real “stars” are the San Quentin inmates and a watch-weary prison guard, who’s spent 20 years on the job and seems to know the prisoners better than they know themselves.

There are many compelling moments, such as the shots of visitors being patted down at the gate and candid shots of the inmates at the concert, who seem skeptical of Cash at first, but warm to his tale of spending the night in jail for picking flowers. The inmates who are interviewed seem handpicked. All are well spoken, yet appropriately hardened – such as the former boxer who has realized his anger controls him and his fate, or the innocent young man who looks like he stepped off of the set of “Happy Days,” who details the surreal, almost detached way he feels when his wife visits. The interviews with two other juxtaposed inmates are chilling for different reasons. One, balding, seemingly well-manned prisoner is on death row for strangling a woman and her 12 year-old son after the boy walked in on their tryst. He’s repentant, willing to die for his moment of temporary insanity. “I blew it,’ he says quietly. “I don’t know why I done it.” The second inmate, a baby-faced charmer with a ready grin, brags bout being a segregationalist, displaying the type of jailhouse swagger you’d expect from a punk. The scary part is this cretin may have gotten paroled and could be living next door.

“Johnny Cash at San Quentin: The Legacy Edition” is a magnum opus, a nearly flawless performance by the Johnny Cash revue, with the man in black at his rollicking best, aided by flamboyant axe magician Carl Perkins. The first-rate performances, the DVD documentary and the accompanying 38-page booklet with essays by Sylvie Simmons, Marty Stuart, June Carter Cash and then inmate Merle Haggard, make it a must for Cash fans. As the guys at San Quentin might say – nice package. It’ll leave you blistered.

Posted November 20, 2006 Permalink