3 Minute Record

"We learned more from a three minute record baby than we ever learned in school..." -from No Surrender by Bruce Springsteen

Filtering by Tag: Country

Part of something big: How Uncle Tupelo shaped the musical landscape [Recollection]

By Robin Wheeler 

My name is nothing extra, but the truth to you I tell. I am a coal miner and I'm sure I wish you well - "Coalminers" by Uncle Tupelo

I remember the first time I heard of Uncle Tupelo. Freshman year at the University of Missouri in the autumn of 1991, sitting in my dorm room with an old friend from my tiny hometown, listening to him bitch because the skirt he was chasing was making him go to an Uncle Tupelo show.

"I hate that country shit," he snarled.

Two months earlier, I would have said the same thing. Growing up in rural west-central Missouri, country music's de rigueur, and we had both had our fill. Making a rural escape with Nirvana and Pearl Jam as the soundtrack, there was no excuse to ever hear another word sung about the working class, whiskey bottles, and coal.

Except that's what I wanted.

I blazed out of my hometown as fast as possible, only to return weekly for the first two months to spend time with my dying grandmother. Being in the new environment I'd craved for years, only to be dragged away to experience a lingering, horrific death. Unable to jump into my new life while watching an old life end.

Most days I just wanted to go home, and nothing felt more like home than country music. Through the privacy of my headphones I'd sneak listens to the local country stations in between my public blastings of the Pixies and the Replacements that led to lots of unpleasant visits from my dorm's RA.

Based solely on my friend's ire and my acute craving for country, I started keeping an ear out for Uncle Tupelo. Three guys from a small town in Illinois that seemed a hell of a lot like the town I'd left, playing not country, but country infused with flavors of the punk artists just coming onto my radar - Iggy Pop, The Clash.

These guys were me.

So I sought them out, which wasn't difficult. Columbia, Missouri is only two hours from Belleville, Illinois, so it was well in UT's touring range. They were "local" to me. So imagine my surprise when I started seeing the band in Rolling Stone.

Something big was happening. Something big, and I was a part of it. On the edge, but clinging to it. R.E.M's Peter Buck was recording with them. And just like that, I'm connected to one of the first bands that caught my attention, showed me that there was more to music than what TV and radio stations from Kansas City fed me.

Being a country kid no longer meant tacky flash and sequins. It wasn't oversized cowboy hats and slick production that didn't sound much different from pop music. This was the first time since realizing Bruce Springsteen was singing about my blue-collar, industrial people did I really feel like an artist was articulating my experience. And they did it by taking the music beloved by my dying grandmother and blending it with the music that had started speaking to me.

I can't say I remember buying March 16-20, 1992. I just know it's always been in my record collection in one form or another, along with everything recorded by everyone on the album. It's been a part of my life's fabric since it arrived. It wasn't my favorite Uncle Tupelo album at the time, since it was so country. When they were new, "Anodyne" was the album that spoke to me the most.

I do remember a different day of record-shopping. In mid-October, 1994 - a week before my 23rd birthday - I bought three albums. Wilco's A.M.,Son Volt's Trace, and the Bottle Rockets' The Brooklyn Side. All three were début albums from bands fronted by Uncle Tupelo members who'd been a part of the March 16-20, 1992 sessions. A Sunday afternoon and feeling more comfortable in my skin than I was when I first heard about "that country shit," I sat in my car, ripping the cellophane from the CDs all at once. Enveloped in the new CD smell, I flipped through the liner notes, looking for familiarity. And it was there.

This is my music. It's about me. It's about the same experiences I've had. The same fears I've known. The same place that bore me.

Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, Son Volt and the Bottle Rockets have remained huge parts of my listening life for the past twenty years. In them, I can hear my own evolution as a person. I don't know if the songs mirror me or if I mirror them. I don't care.

Belleville postcard
Belleville postcard

Funny thing: in 2007 my husband and I decided to move to Belleville, Illinois. We'd been in the St. Louis area for eight years and weren't happy with our neighborhood. After a lot of research we decided Belleville offered everything we wanted - excellent schools, easy accessibility to St. Louis, affordable housing, and a sense of independence and quirkiness that suited our weird family.

It's taken five years for friends to stop accusing me of moving to Belleville because of Uncle Tupelo. It's the school, the cute 1920s brick bungalows, and the art festival. Really! The fact that the streets run with Stag Beer is an added bonus.

I would be lying, though, if I said I don't feel the impact of the history that happened in my backyard. There are Tweedys and Farrars living in my neighborhood, and people who were a part of the same music scene that produced them. We have kids in the same school, buy our milk from the same corner market and have dinner at the same restaurant while we wave to one another from our cars on America's longest Main Street.

Try walking past the fountain in Belleville's town square without singing "New Madrid" under your breath. Go on. I dare you. It can't be done.

We didn't get the house we originally wanted to buy five years ago, and it's just as well. That house is slowly slipping into one of the abandoned coal mines that litter subterranean Belleville from the days when residents would illegally dig into the black veins below the town in hopes of finding a way out of financial ruin.

All those years I'd snickered about Farrar's fixation with coal miners, ignorant to the fact that he knew what he was talking about. Every word true.

I see the relevance daily. Hear it in the stories from my Belleville friends and neighbors who were there, too. In 1992 I had no idea how many of my peers were also touched by the collision of divergent musical worlds brought forth by one little band from a little town. I thought it was just me. But now, we have a tribe. It includes our families and children, our community, and runs like a coal vein through our lives. Rich and deep, the place we mine for what's most important: who we are and where we came from.

How one album can change your life: Remembering March 16-20, 1992 by Uncle Tupelo [Recollection]

Editor's Note: 20 years ago today, the three members of Uncle Tupelo stepped into John Keane Studios in Athens, GA to begin recording their third album with producer Peter Buck, best known as the guitarist for R.E.M. Five days later they had a finished record. Over the next few days the owners of 3 Minute Record will give our thoughts on how that album changed our musical landscape. - Scott

Gimme back that year, good or bad. Gimme back something that I never knew I had. - "That Year" by Uncle Tupelo

I remember the evening vividly. A typical hot, sticky August night in St. Louis. I picked up my longtime friend Steve Kuhlman in my 1968 Chevrolet Camaro and we drove to the Granite City location (R.I.P.) of Vintage Vinyl to look for some new records. Little did I realize that one particular trip would be etched in my brain 20 years later.

In August 1992, I was a recent high school graduate of Collinsville High School just hanging out with friends and counting the days before I moved away to the University of Missouri - Columbia to begin my college education. The act of going to a record store was nothing new. I'd been doing this for years frequenting a store called the Record Company at their locations in Glen Carbon and Granite City as well as the chain stores in the mall. However, during my junior and senior years of high school I started attending shows at clubs on the Landing in St. Louis. Places like Mississippi Nights, Kennedy's and the Bernard Pub opened up a new world of possibilities to me about music. Up until this time I was content to buy records and listen to music in my room or on my Walkman. With a driver's license, a car and a little knowledge, my universe began to expand as rapidly as I was driving that V8 engine.

Now, armed with what felt like secret knowledge, I went out on the weekends to see national touring acts as well as local bands. I dug through the pages of the Riverfront Times, still owned by founder Ray Hartmann, in the constant search of new venues and new artists. Here I learned about the local music scene and started following bands like Pale Divine, Three Merry Widows and The Finn's.

While looking around the store that summer night, I stumbled upon the recently released album, March 16-20, 1992, by Belleville based band, Uncle Tupelo. Excited, I bought the new release ready to hear what it had in store. After leaving the record store that evening we headed back to my parents' house to shoot some pool on my parent's pool table. At the time, I had a new JVC dual CD/dual cassette boom box that I had received as a high school graduation present, which I left downstairs to listen to music. I removed the shrink-wrap to open up the compact disc to play. The first thing I noticed was the stark artwork; a modern twist on those early '60s records. Second, I was excited to see guitarist Peter Buck, of my favorite band R.E.M., had worked with a band as producer.  

At the time I purchased the albumI already owned the band's first two records, No Depression and Still Feel Gone, andI had seen them perform live a few times at Mississippi Nights. Early Uncle Tupelo shows were a dichotomy of power and energy mixed with slow, country balladry. They exuded a punk vibe carried over from their unique blend of the post-punk of Hüsker Dü, Minutemen and Black Flag and country music. However, as I listened to the new record, it became abundantly clear that Jay Farrar, Jeff Tweedy and Mike Heidhorn had intentionally made a drastic change in course. This new batch of songs was completely different from much of their early material.

During the previous couple of years I had already begun a fascination with folk music, specifically the work of Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan. However, March 16-20, 1992 marked a distinct turning point in the development of my musical tastes as a listener and a fan. While Nirvana had shaken the apples off the tree in a fit of raw power, Uncle Tupelo, however, took a decidedly different course. In an anti-establishment turn, which now we realize Jay Farrar is wont to do, the band eschewed the current sound for one that had been pushed to the fringe decades before. For many fans, Uncle Tupelo's blend of country, rock, and punk served as the same type of touchstone in indie circles as Nirvana and the Seattle music scene had for mainstream rock. Yet, on March 16-20, 1992, the band focused completely on the country and folk side of their music and helped launch what began to be referred to as "Alternative Country" and eventually "No Depression" after their first album.

My first inclination that something was radically different from their other work - the album is almost entirely acoustic. Yes, they had performed acoustic country music in the past as they had included covers of the Carter Family classic "No Depression" and Leadbelly's "John Hardy." However, the songs included on the latest record were haunting, politically charged ballads that spoke to the state of the working class in the early '90s - a place that Farrar and Tweedy knew all too well from their upbringing.

The album's liner notes revealed that there were 8 original songs flanked by 7 covers. One song I recognized was the traditional song,"Moonshiner," which I knew from the Bob Dylan box set, The Bootleg Series Volumes 1-3 Rare and Unreleased 1961-1991 released just the year before. The other cover songs completely changed my perspective on country and folk music, for example, "The Great Atomic Power" by the Louvin Brothers and "Come All You Coalminers" by Sarah Ogan Gunning.

Furthermore, I was impressed how well the original songs crafted for the album blended perfectly with the older material. Tweedy chipped in with three outstanding originals - the bouncy upbeat folk of "Wait Up" with its heartbreaking lyrics about love going bad, the gorgeous ballad "Black Eye" and the solemn "Fatal Wound," a song with as much, if not more, power as their classic "Whiskey Bottle." It's Farrar's contributions to the record, however, "Grindstone," "Criminals," "Shaky Ground" and "Wipe The Clock," paired with his readings of the covers and traditional material that give the project its depth and authenticity.  In a future foretold, Farrar continued in his post-Tupelo career, with both Son Volt and his solo material, to follow the path set forth on this record. Whereas with Wilco, Tweedy followed a more commercial road that brought him the success, fame and indie credentials he seemed to covet.

That Fall, while at the University of Missouri, I volunteered to work at student-run radio station 88.1 KCOU. I started my training and eventually got on the air for a couple of shifts in the 2-6 a.m. slot. To this day I still have a cassette tape of one of the shows that started with playing the Uncle Tupelo original instrumental, "Sandusky," followed by Woody Guthrie's "Grand Coulee Dam." When the music exemplifies a certain classic quality the new and the old blend seamlessly together and artists become intrinsically linked across generations. For me, classic country and folk music became another genre to dig into with the same ferocity as rock, soul and rhythm and blues. All it took were a trio of musicians from a couple of towns over and just a few years older than I to give me an introduction.

Robbie Fulks at Off Broadway 10-16-11 (Preview)

I first became familiar with Robbie Fulks with his song "She Took A Lot Of Pills (And Died)" on the Bloodshot Records compilation Hell-bent: Insurgent Country Vol. 2. Shortly after hearing him on that comp., I would be introduced to his live show when he opened for Ben Folds Five at the American Theater sometime in 1997. I have done my best to never miss a Robbie Fulks show ever since. The list of venues that I have seen Mr. Fulks play at in the St. Louis area include many that have sadly closed their doors (Hi-Pointe, Lucas School House), some that have been renamed (American Theater), one that I can't remember the name of (the jazz club over by The Fox that had a short-lived series of Americana type acts), and a couple of clubs that are still going strong today (Off Broadway, The Duck Room). It doesn't really matter where Mr. Fulks plays, it doesn't even really matter if he comes through your town with band in tow or as a solo performer, he will always put on an amazing show. On top of Fulks' great songwriting, masterful guitar work, and dynamic voice, his between song banter and anecdotes are not to be missed. Fulks is great at making up songs on the spot about any funny/odd situations that may pop up during a show, his last performance at this year's Twangfest made for quite a few hilarious musical creations. It is always nice to see him take a couple of shots at the local "legend" Beatle Bob when Bob happens to attend Fulks' show. Fulks had also been known to throw in cover songs such as the unexpected covers of Cher's "Believe", ABBA's "Dancing Queen", or any of the many Michael Jackson tunes that Fulks recorded on his MJ tribute album Happy.

To simply say that Fulks' shows are entertaining only for the comical interactions with the crowd or the chance of an odd-ball cover, would be a great disservice. Yes, Fulks has penned his fair share of funny songs ("Fuck This Town", "Dirty Mouth Flo ", "Godfrey"), but to overlook the rest of his catalog that might deal with "serious" topics is just down right criminal. (And I do not mean to degrade any of the "funny" songs, a great song is a great song no matter what the level of "seriousness" is perceived to be.) On Fulks' 1998 release Let's Kill Saturday Night (still one of my favorite albums not only by Fulks, but by anyone), the wit and humor prevalent in earlier material seemed to be pushed into the backseat and the songs took a little bit heavier feel. Fulks' next release, Couples In Trouble, took on an even heavier feel, though it contains one of my favorite pop songs in "Mad At A Girl". To me, Fulks' 2005 release Georgia Hard is really a great combination of the humor found in earlier material and the more mature songwriting found on Let's Kill... and Couples In Trouble.

So, if you want to see one of the most entertaining shows by one of the best songwriters going right now, do yourself a favor and get on over to Off Broadway on Sunday, October 16 and witness the greatness that is Robbie Fulks. Doors are at 7:30PM, show is at 8PM. 12 bucks get ya in the door. I am personally hoping he will play "Little King".

Here's a taste of the awesome song "Let's Kill Saturday Night".

Library of Congress debuts The National Jukebox

title of the race-records-catalogue of victor ...

Put away your handful of quarters, nickels and dimes. This month the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. launched a new ambitious project called The National Jukebox.

I first heard about this project earlier this month on NPR. The site is a free archive of sound recordings that documents sounds (music and speeches) recorded at the dawn of the 20th century and allows the listener to stream (but not download) each song via their computer. Still the site garnered interest from the public with over 250,000 visits already.

The Library of Congress spent the majority of 2010 digitizing over 10,000 sides (78 RPM records have one song on each side) from the Victor Talking Machine Company (now under the arm of Sony Music Entertainment) originally produced between 1900 and 1925. The website states that, "The National Jukebox includes recordings from the extraordinary collections of the Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation and other contributing libraries and archives." As a mission this ambitious project has 

The goal of the Jukebox is to present to the widest audience possible early commercial sound recordings, offering a broad range of historical and cultural documents as a contribution to education and lifelong learning.

Further, this collection will not remain static and stodgy lending credibility continued. The website continues by stating, "New recordings are added to the Jukebox every month. Later this year, we will begin digitizing recordings from additional record labels, including Columbia and Okeh, along with selected master recordings from the Library of Congress Universal Music Group Collection."

First, I clicked on genre and found the Traditional/Country section and near the top was a favorite country standard of mine.

Wreck Of The Old 97 - Vernon Dalhart - 1924 http://media.loc.gov/player/flowplayer.commercial.swf?0.8696789029376122

Next used a search term "St. Louis" and found some interesting hits from an even earlier era. The first song is a classic from the 1904 World's Fair hosted in Forest Park in St. Louis performed here by Billy Murray. A strong tenor voice helped Murray become one of the most popular singers of the first quarter of the 20th century singing into as acoustic recording horn. Murray started out in vaudeville as a teenager and by 1903 he was in the New York area making studio recordings. By the mid-1920s when the electronic microphone came into use, the new sound of crooners eclipsed Murray's sound forever.  

Meet Me in St. Louie, Louie - Billy Murray - 1904 http://media.loc.gov/player/flowplayer.commercial.swf?0.8545572064060243

St. Louis Tickle - Ossman-Dudley Trio - 1906 (Instrumental) http://media.loc.gov/player/flowplayer.commercial.swf?0.4831903982451466

St. Louis Blues - Original Dixieland Jazz Band - 1921 http://media.loc.gov/player/flowplayer.commercial.swf?0.18645644567922426

That Baseball Rag - Arthur Collins - 1913 http://media.loc.gov/player/flowplayer.commercial.swf?0.4422833037025974

As an owner of both a vintage jukebox and my great-grandfather's Victrola, this project intrigues me to no end. The website allows you to make playlists to back and listen to these songs again and again; just like pulling out your old records over and over.

Before reading any articles or news reports, the first thing I thought about when I heard about this project was Joe Bussard's collection of 78 RPM records. Wouldn't it be great to have his collection as part of this rich history of recorded American music?

If you've never heard of Joe Bussard then you're in for a treat. Bussard, the self-professed "King of Record Collectors," is a record collector who started collecting 78 RPM records in the 1950s and 1960s - mostly blues, Cajun, country, folk, gospel, and jazz. He took trips into remote Mid-Atlantic towns near his Maryland home to seek out people who would sell their rare records. Presently, Bussard is an opinionated, cigar smoking old man with a record collection of 78 RPM sides that has few rivals. There is a well done documentary about Bussard called Desperate Man Blues: Discovering the Roots of American Music that gives a nice synopsis of the man and the collection.

Old Hat Records released a compilation of some of Bussard's 78 RPM sides a few years ago on Down In The Basement: Joe Bussard's Treasure Trove of Vintage 78's.

But these will remind others of the collection Harry Smith put together in the 1950s for Moe Asch's Folkways Records called the Anthology Of American Folk Music. Cited by countless musicians as a heavy influence on their work, this collection effectively re-started the entire Folk music revival of the late 1950s and early 1960s.

Kudos to the Library of Congress for taking on such an ambitious project. America's musical heritage is a treasure and worth preserving for future generations to hear.

Footnote: For some reason the ability to embed these songs into the post did not work correctly and I'm not sure why. If you can speak to that issue please let me know.

R.I.P. Ferlin Husky

The end came last Thursday for a performer with one of the more perfect names for country music, as word from Nashville came on Friday that country music pioneer Ferlin Husky died. He was 85. Born in Cantwell, MO on December 3, 1925 and reared on a farm near Flat River, MO, Husky grew up as a typical Midwesterner with a hard scrabble existence during the Great Depression and an eighth grade education.

Learning the basics of guitar as a boy from an uncle, Husky performed in honky tonks around St. Louis after dropping out of high school in the early 1940s. He worked blue-collar jobs as a truck driver and at a steel mill before enlisting in the U.S. Merchant Marine during World War II. Here he further honed his performing skills while entertaining other troops and adopting a stage persona of Simon Crum, an outspoken hayseed comic character based on a neighbor from back home.

After the war, Husky took a job as a disc jockey and performed from 1948 to 1953 under the stage name Terry Preston before reverting back to his real name. On the radio he continued to work on his Simon Crum character drawing an audience and sponsors. With the help of Tennessee Ernie Ford's manager, Cliffie Stone, Husky signed to Capitol Records in 1953 and recorded for the label until 1972.

Husky entertained country music fans in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s with hits like "Wings of a Dove" and "Gone."

His first number one hit on the country charts came during his first year at Capitol - "A Dear John Letter," a duet with Jean Shepard. The song also crossed over to the pop charts reaching number four.

In 1957, Husky reached the top spot on the country charts again with "Gone."


In 1960, Husky returned to the top of the country charts with "Wings of a Dove," a song written by Bob Ferguson, that stayed at number 1 for ten weeks and rose to number 12 on the pop charts.

Although Husky never reached the top of the charts again his music remained popular with country music fans. He reached number 4 twice with "Once" (1967) and "Just for You" (1968).

Husky semi retired in the late 1970s after heart issues. Though he returned to touring and performances, he ceased recording. In February 2010, the Country Music Association announce that Husky would be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville.

Over his career Husky charted 11 top ten country hits, 23 top twenty hits, and 41 top forty hits.

Johnny Cash - From Memphis To Hollywood: Bootleg Vol. II [Album Review]

When Johnny Cash returned to the United States from Germany and his stint in the U.S. Air Force in Summer 1954 he could not have realized the changes that would happen in his life less than a year later. Within the next year he had married, started making records and had his first child. A life changing few months indeed. Before the decade was complete Cash had signed to Columbia Records in 1958 leaving his original label, Sun Records; he was only 26 years old. His career still in its developmental stage, Cash already had several hits on the Country charts including #1 singles with "I Walk The Line", "There You Go", "Ballad Of A Teenage Queen" and "Guess Things Happen That Way." However, he wasn't a legend nor the "Man in Black" yet. A new compilation reveals part of the back story of the songs Cash wrote during this early stage and subsequent recordings made around the same time those hits were on radio.

Johnny Cash - From Memphis To Hollywood: Bootleg Vol. 2
Johnny Cash - From Memphis To Hollywood: Bootleg Vol. 2

Released by Columbia on February 22, just in time for what would have been Cash's seventy-ninth birthday today, From Memphis To Hollywood: Bootleg Vol. II documents Cash from local country artist with a 15 minute show on Memphis radio station KWEM to country star recording for Columbia Records with his band, The Tennessee Two, plus soon to be wife June Carter and the Carter Family on backing vocals. Honorably discharged from the U.S. Air Force in 1954, Cash started his recording career in 1955 and by 1969 he was a major recording star; a legend.

From Memphis To Hollywood:Bootleg Vol. II doesn't focus on the hits although it does include some demos of some of his greatest songs including "I Walk The Line", "Get Rhythm" and "Big River". This compilation, however, unearths demos, rarities, singles, outtakes and B-sides. These intimate recordings look closely at Cash the songwriter and musician. Much like the previous Bootleg release, Personal File, many of these tracks are solo recordings of just Cash and his guitar.

On disc one Cash is a local artist in Memphis in the 1950s, playing radio shows, recording demos as reference for studio recordings and recording studio tracks for local independent label, Sun Records. First, Cash and the Tennessee Two (Luther Perkins on guitar and Marshall Grant on bass) play a 15 minute radio show for KWEM 990 at 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, May 21, 1955. The recording, their first radio show for the station, is raw as the AM radio it played through over 50 years ago. Cash and the Tennessee Two play 4 songs while Cash hawks commercials for his employer, Home Equipment Company, between songs. As perspective, three days later Cash became a father as his oldest daughter, Rosanne, was born.

Less raw, yet still containing a strong analog tape hiss, the compilation presents a group of 12 demos of Cash recording his own songs with just voice and guitar next. Though unknown when and where these demo recordings were made,  the songs feature a feel of Cash making home recordings as demos for his band, publishing or for Sun Records owner/producer Sam Phillips. Cash's voice is gentle and introspective. The artist at his most vulnerable.

While the radio show and demos provide the listener a glimpse into Cash's working life as a musician the first disc offers other highlights. One highlight from the first disc is "Wide Open Road," a song featured here twice, one a radio recording from the KWEM show and the other a solo Sun Studios recording from late 1954.  Reminiscent of Bruce Springsteen's "Open All Night" from his acoustic album, Nebraska, but in reverse.  The narrator of Cash's song is upset and urging his girl to get out-of-town and hit the wide open road leaving him behind for good, while Springsteen's protagonist is pining for his girl and driving all night to see her. In a second highlight Cash gives a dark reading of the classic Leadbelly song "Goodnight Irene".

By the start of disc two, Cash is in Nashville recording for Columbia Records with producers Don Law and Bob Johnston. Cash had moved his family from Memphis to Hollywood in 1958 after signing the deal with Columbia Records. The sound of Cash's 1960s material is more polished, but still contains the stark qualities of his Sun Sessions. However, the music is recorded with better equipment in buildings built specifically as recording studios. With these songs, broad in scope and rich in imagery, Cash carries a heavier weight of the people on his shoulders. The lyrics offer less about Cash's personal experiences and more about overarching themes of the working man and issues for which he deeply cared.

Highlights from the second disc include the prisoner's last moments "Five Minutes To Live", the hard luck lament "The Losing Kind" and the "Locomotive Man". Cash gives his country take on Bob Dylan's "One Too Many Mornings" and provides his negative thoughts on the general public's acceptance of the 1960s folk revival with "The Folk Singer".

Though now an American music legend with a large catalog of recorded work, Johnny Cash's stature continues to grow even after his death in 2003. In this compilation we meet Cash more as a man instead of legendary recording artist. A great way to reacquaint yourself with an artist you think you already know. Long live Johnny Cash!