highlights extend from the pop innocence of "Ballad of a Teenage Queen" by Rodney Crowell (formerly married to Johnny's daughter Rosanne) to the folkier strains and husband-and-wife harmonies of "Pack Up Your Sorrows" by Bruce Robison and Kelly Willis to the honky-tonk majesty of "I Still Miss Someone" by pianist Earl Poole Ball. Some of the more familiar touchstones don't fare quite as well, with Billy Burnette turning in a tepid "Ring of Fire" and Dale Watson singing in a lower than comfortable register on "I Walk the Line," though James Intveld rises to the challenge of "Folsom Prison Blues." The house band and the largely acoustic arrangements give the 18-cut album more unity than many such projects, as the collection shows why one of the most influential and commercially successful artists in country's history remains an icon of alt-country as well. --Don McLeese  (less)

and more.  (less)

to skateboard over the line than to walk it, only that given his mesmerizing voice and his gift for storytelling, he had an enviable way of relating to kids. Thirty years on, parents who pick up this disc will find not a lot has changed: In 15 songs never before released on CD--four of which are bonus tracks not included on the 1975 classic--the Man in Black melds the silly with the sweet, the madcap with the meaningful, and emerges as a country-folk Pied Piper any kid would kill to have for an uncle. "Nasty Dan," the opener, will be familiar not only to those who grew up singing along to the original LP, but also to subsequent generations of "Sesame Street" watchers (Oscar duets on a later version). But for most, the rest will arrive as pure revelation. "Old Shep," a dog song, deserves placement on a disc of classic pet tributes, if such a thing exists; "Tiger Whitehead" treads fearlessly through wild bear territory; "Ah Bos Cee Dah" is nonsensical noodling with the language at its most brilliant; and "I Got a Boy and His Name Is John," a duet with the great June Carter Cash, steers the modern listener to a long-lost place where love of family was enough for a kid to get by on. --Tammy La Gorce  (less)

weren't undertaken until two years later. And though producer Rick Rubin had become a trusted friend, the Man in Black wasn't around to approve or disapprove, let alone guide, the final sessions. However, if the pure power of these recordings doesn't quiet the skeptics, nothing will. With Heartbreakers Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench and slide guitar session pro Smokey Hormel on board (all three of whom appear on earlier Cash albums), along with guitarists Matt Sweeney and Johnny Polansky, the sound is stately and acoustic, but rarely staid, even as the dynamics of earlier recordings in the series are absent. Instead, the songs have a measured, elegiac intensity, the sound of musicians choosing their notes carefully and making just the right choices. The songs Cash sings are, unsurprisingly, confessional and reflective: his mortality and his mistakes, his maker and his salvation, and the loss of his wife June and the end of his career may have weighed on his mind, but in these songs he both embodies and transcends his personal history. On "God's Gonna Cut You Down," as the musicians clap and stomp behind him, his voice cuts through the air like that same avenging hand. On the new original "Like the 309"--the last song Cash ever wrote--he cops to being short of breath, and that voice becomes a metaphor for what each of us will one day face. On Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Read My Mind," Rubin flirts with overwhelming the damp bittersweetness of Cash's phrasing in tasteful atmospherics, but the voice is implacable, hitting and finding notes one never expected he'd have the will to find. Likewise, it's hard to believe this is his first recording of Ian Tyson's "Four Strong Winds"; the elemental narrative seems to have been written for him. Two songs, however, Cash has recorded before: the born-again hymn "I Came to Believe" and the final spiritual, "I'm Free from the Chain Gang Now." The latter especially is a definitive testament, as is his version of Bruce Springsteen's "Further On (Up the Road)." "One sunny morning we'll rise, I know / And I'll meet you further on up the road," he sings. If only, John, if only. --Roy Kasten More Cash At Folsom Prison American Recordings   (less)

God, Murder trilogy. Cash's final act as an artist gathers 18 tracks from his incomparable, four-decade-deep Columbia catalog, reflecting a life as deeply conflicted by the ways of the flesh ("I Can't Go On That Way," "Wanted Man," "I Wish I Was Crazy Again," his duet with Waylon Jennings) as it was rooted in love of God ("I Talk to Jesus Everyday"), family ("Suppertime"), his country ("Ragged Old Flag"), and its music ("The Night Hank Williams Came to Town"). But Cash's deeply patriotic conscience was the kind that also demanded better of his nation and its leaders ("Ballad of Ira Hayes," "Man in Black") while his love for his late wife June illuminates "You're the Nearest Thing to Heaven" and their bittersweet duet, "Where Did We Go Right." There are Cash compilations galore, but none with the touching personal insights offered here. --Jerry McCulley  (less)

To Know Me, Track: 1: It Ain't Me Babe, Track: 2: Jackson, Track: 3: Long Legged Guitar Pickin' Man, Track: 4: Oh What A Good Thing We Had, Track: 5: Darlin' Companion, Track: 6: If I Were A Carpenter, Track: 7: Cause I Love You, Track: 8: Loving Gift, Track: 9: Help Me Make It Through The Night Media Type: CD Artist: CASH,JOHNNY & JUNE CARTER CASH Title: DUETS Street Release Date: 01/31/2006 Import Genre: COUNTRY  (less)

in his inn, the Man in Black is self-described as "somewhere between an A and D Christian." That very dichotomy is borne out in Just as I Am , a 20-song collection culled from Cash's immense body of work inspired by his Southern Christian heritage and deep devotion to God. All previously recorded during some of his most prolific and inspired years (1959-74), the selections here range from sparkling gems of faith to pale, phoned-in shadows lacking the brilliance of both Cash and Christ. --Paige La Grone  (less)