Reviews
What people had to say about Tim O'Connell's "A Singer of Songs" on the Johnny Cash Unearthed Box Set
I think that this is one of the most touching and emotional of all of the songs. I have no idea where it came from. I don't even remember when we recorded it. We did it once, I think, and it just disappeared and we never thought about it again until we found it when we were working on the box. It was like, 'Wow, how did we miss this?' . . . But it's so passionate and beautiful and powerful and it sums up perfectly Johnny's whole thing about how artists get put on a pedestal. Basically it says, "I don't claim to be the man with the answers, I'm just a singer of songs, someone who tells my stories through music, so don't look to me for more than that." It's a very poignant statement from Johnny - it's him alone; there may be a couple of other little instruments in there but basically it's just him.
A personal favorite is "Singer of Songs." At first this seems too modest an inscription for so great a man, until you understand the power Cash recognized in music. "I can take you for a walk along a little country stream / I can make you see through lovers' eyes and understand their dreams," he sings, "I can help you hear a baby's laugh, and understand the joy it brings / Yes, I do it with the songs that I sing." By this more ambitious definition, he was a singer of songs indeed.
You can't find the tracks in this set anywhere else. There are real gems like Cash and The Clash's Joe Strummer's duet of Bob Marley's "Redemption Song," a nice cover of "Wichita Lineman," and the best track on the discs "Singer of Songs." Cash singing "Singer of Songs" is one of the most moving and inspiring things I have ever heard committed to tape.
If my sources are correct, there's a new biopic out about the Man In Black. Forgive my skepticism, but I can't imagine it sears with any more autobiography than this three-minute self-assessment. "I'm just a singer of songs," he croaks in that craggy life-ripped voice, but anyone with ears knows that the "just" isn't justified. As for the soundtrack, why anyone would choose a Hollywood star singing "Ring Of Fire" when this gem from Unearthed is a double-click away is beyond me.
The most poignant song on the collection, Singer of Songs could stand as his (Cash's) epitaph. Although it plays down his genius, it sure sums up the man.
I'm not a great man, I don't claim to be
But when I meet my maker, and he questions me
I won't hang my head, I will stand proud and strong
And say I was a singer, Lord I was a singer of songs.
A cracking release and a fitting testament to the final chapter in the Johnny Cash story. God bless you Johnny, you'll be sorely missed.
Cash’s styling of this song is breath-taking. With a solo guitar and piano joining in on the second verse we hear the power of this kind of song-singing. There can be no truer word spoken of John R. Cash than that until the day he died he loved song.
The Johnny Cash box set Unearthed is glorious, both in music and presentation. One of the standouts is "A Singer of Songs," which was recorded during the Solitary Man sessions. How it made its way to Cash is one of those round about good luck stories songwriters must dream about.
Quieter, more introspective moments dominate disc three, "Redemption Songs," including Jimmy Webb's classic "Wichita Lineman" and the lesser-known beauty "A Singer of Songs," written by Tim O'Connell.
The material is arranged in roughly chronological order and by CD 3 Cash's voice starts to deteriorate. But this just means that the likes of "A Singer of Songs" and "Hard Times" become almost unbearably poignant. When he sings about meeting his maker you feel he knows that time is coming soon.
When Cash stepped up to a song, he took command -- whether the shopworn Glen Campbell oldie "Wichita Lineman" or . . . the brilliant "Singer of Songs."
The solo material ranges from bittersweet new tracks like "A Singer of Songs" to stripped-down classic gospel and country . . .
Listening to the spare, moving reflections on life and mortality here - particularly "Singer of Songs," "The Caretaker" and duets with Joe Strummer, Nick Cave and Fiona Apple - one wishes that the label had pulled a Tupac and let the material trickle out one CD at a time.
Cash summons up murder ballads and train songs, takes a crack at sturdy new tunes that seem to have been written for him ("A Singer of Songs"), and tests out spry new material of his own . . .
I enjoy listening to the all gospel collection on disc four, My Mother's Hymn Book, but it just doesn't move me as much as, say, "A Singer of Songs" from disc three.
In a clip played at his (Cash's) funeral, there was an excerpt of "A Singer of Songs" which I had never heard before and thought was so fitting. It is in this set and I would have purchased the set for this song alone.
"No Earthly Good" and "A Singer of Songs" express Cash's personal philosophy about putting religion to work in the world.
Disc three finds Cash in clearly failing health, but his subtle phrasing rescues whatever his strength can't, including wind-swept, plainly autobiographical takes on "A Singer of Songs" and "You'll Never Walk Alone."
For those familiar with the Cash/Rubin collaboration for the American label, that is a part of the fun of Unearthed -- measuring its songs against the ones that made the cut. Inevitably this is a subjective enterprise, but how could songs like "If I Give My Soul," "No Earthly Good," "Big Iron," and "Singer of Songs" be left out in the cold? . . . The irony is that there are fewer clunkers on the whole of Unearthed than on the official albums.
Marley's "Redemption Song" with the late Joe Strummer, the simple and honest "Singer of Songs," the haunting duet "As Long As the Grass Shall Grow" with his wife June, the rocking "Everybody Wants to Be My Baby" or the stunning reinterpretation of "You'll Never Walk Alone": These are only a few highlights of this amazing set that contains not a single filler.
By this point in the box set, the recordings are from the time period when Cash's voice has noticeably deteriorated. But the aging, faltering voice adds character to the performances, making the songs heartbreakingly poignant. This is especially true in the beautiful "Singer of Songs," as the weakened Cash says that through singing he "can help proclaim the glory of the mighty King of Kings."
Together, the five discs play like an aural autobiography, making it difficult to discern where the singer ends and the song begins. "I wouldn't tell you what's right or what's wrong," Cash declares at the outset of volume three, "I'm just a singer of songs." To the end, he stayed true to that simple self-definition.
By the end, singing was all he did. The force of his baritone had dwindled, but such was the richness of the Cash persona that his frailty seemed profound. Everything became Biblical, whether it was pop, rock or bubble gum. He was reaching for humility and scenting decay.
On last year's Unearthed boxed set, he delivers many epitaphs. To take just one: "I'm not a saviour, and I'm not a saint/The man with the answers I certainly ain't/I wouldn't tell you what's right and what's wrong/I'm just a singer of songs."
That, I think, is Johnny Cash. Modest and boastful, humbly proud.
Tim,
That song is incredible. If I didn't know better, I'd think Dad did write it.
You nailed it. His humility, his entire being.
Congrats on the song . . . it's PERFECT.
Good song, but I don't know whose song it is.