Johnny Cash's private Armageddon By Warren Bluhm News-Chronicle I have nothing to add to the pile of eulogies that accompanied the death of Johnny Cash. I never met the man, never saw him in concert; I was just one of the millions of people his music touched deeply. All I can offer are a personal anecdote and an odd reflection. The anecdote: At a low point in my life, feeling alone, I wandered to the record store with an aching in my heart for, of all things, a Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers album. In my previous visit I had discovered, with some glee, that the vinyl LP was not dead and had purchased "Wildflowers," at that time the latest Tom Petty album, in its incarnation as a double-record set. Alas, no Petty records I didn't already own were available. But under "C," a picture of the aging Johnny Cash stared out at me from the cover of an album called "Unchained." Something about that puffy-jowled, sad-eyed man, barely recognizable as the country music legend he was, compelled me to take the album home, the first Johnny Cash record I'd ever purchased. That was my introduction to the series of four astonishing albums that, it turned out, closed Cash's career - "American Recordings," "Unchained," "American III: Solitary Man" and "American IV: The Man Comes Around." Produced by Rick Rubin over eight years, the albums are an eclectic blend of old standards, Cash's compositions and modern, cutting-edge songs written by folks like Beck, Sting, Flea and Nine-Inch Nails. Knowing modern country radio wasn't going to play his stuff anyway - the fools! - Cash and Rubin decided just to record great songs that went well with his unique voice. By the third song on the album, "Rusty Cage," I was hooked. It was like nothing I'd ever heard before, and yet there was something familiar about it. I picked up the liner notes and could have been blown over with a feather: "Tom Petty, vocals, electric and acoustic guitars ... Mike Campbell, electric and acoustic guitars ... Benmont Tench, piano ... Howie Epstein, bass ... Steve Ferrone, drums and percussion ..." I had sort of prayed for a Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers album, and somehow I was compelled to buy a Johnny Cash album for the first time in my life, an album that happened to have the Heartbreakers as the backing band. God, I believe, not only has a sense of humor but loves to perform small miracles when you least expect it. The odd reflection: Cash shared an authentic love of God even though - or maybe because - he had a dark side that made much of his life resemble an impending train wreck. Especially after he met and married June Carter, his songs of killers and rebels blended with gospel tunes in a mix that made no obvious sense but sounded perfect, anyway. "I believe what I say, but that don't necessarily make me right," was the quote this weekend from a 2000 Rolling Stone interview. "There is a spiritual side to me that goes real deep, but I confess right up front that I'm the biggest sinner of them all." That dichotomy in Cash hit home with me, because I think we all struggle that way with darkness and light. No, I never "shot a man in Reno just to watch him die," but like most people I've made enough missteps in life that I am uncomfortable talking about faith because I know for certain I am not holier than thou. I think that's what Cash meant in that interview. As time goes on, I think that while it's interesting to speculate about Armageddon - that final struggle between good and evil that's described in mysterious terms in the book of Revelation - we each spend our lives in kind of a private Armageddon. Every day we can decide whether we're going to seek the truth or chase after the beast. Sometimes it's an easy choice, and sometimes it's like walking a tightrope over a ring of fire. No one knows the day and hour of the "real" apocalypse; no one knows the day and hour of his own death, but the choices are the same, just on a different scale. In those last four albums, I believe his impending death was always close to Johnny Cash's thoughts, and the choice of songs reflected his personal Armageddon. I also have a strong feeling that he won the war and is now at peace. Warren Bluhm is editor of the Door County Advocate. Contact him at 743-3321 or [email protected]