Pitchfork

The Man in Black's vision of the American west is one of a rugged, mournful land, where outlaws carry bibles over their hearts, and where sometimes, the good book even stops a bullet. The Man Comes Around is poised as the next chapter in Cash's darkling fairy tale, the fourth in an ongoing series of mostly-covers albums on which he gives material by some of today's most talented (or alternately, best-selling) artists his own aged slant.

Now, time was, Johnny Cash covering a song like Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage" was a clever novelty made impressive by his ability to infuse these modern-day rockers with overwhelming emotion. Cash's renditions of songs like Nick Cave's "The Mercy Seat" and Leonard Cohen's "Bird on a Wire" weren't so surprising, but far more powerful, as the spirit of those songs was so close to his own. The simple truth, of course, is that Cash's talent is such that he can elevate nearly any song to which he turns his ear. But on this, his fourth go-round on the same theme, it hardly seems necessary anymore; the songs of this record are taken from the most disparate ends of the musical spectrum, to no apparent end but show that he can do it.

The first tragic subject of this case study is, almost predictably, Trent Reznor. (We knew it was just a matter of time, didn't we? I give it one more album before he gets around to Tool's "Schism.") The curriculum: "Hurt". Now, I'm not a big advocator of the NIN sound, but I'll give "Hurt" that it's got a fine melody, and its arrangement here is fantastic. Cash treats the song with such sincerity and honesty that it takes on a power that it never held in Reznor's hands, infusing it with genuine heart to accompany the bitterness. But that's just it-- could Cash really fail to bring something to this desolate ballad? It's like taking target practice at the Empire State Building. There's no challenge here-- it's just driving home a point. (And incidentally, those of you anticipating the line, "I wear this crown of shit," will be sorely disappointed.)

Still, from the slithering blues groove of "Personal Jesus" to a surprisingly subtle duet with Fiona Apple on "Bridge Over Troubled Water", Cash never falters. Gorgeous, minimal arrangements highlight his emotive baritone and distill each track to its finest essentials. However, when an album consists of twelve covers and only three originals, something more than pretty arrangements is necessary, and it's called cohesion. Cash's renditions are often breathtaking in their simplicity, but rarely do they justify their presence among a dozen other similarly afflicted songs.

A few exceptions are able to rise above, of course. "Hung My Head" is, and always has been, more Johnny Cash's than Sting's, and there's no disputing it now. And Cash and his understudy Nick Cave do justice to fellow Country hall-of-famer Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry". In these tracks, Cash finds something more than excellent composition and heartfelt regret-- he taps into the essence of each song and truly makes it his own. If he could have done this more often, and with a better selection of songs, the bulk of this record wouldn't be overshadowed by the cataclysmic magnitude of its original title track.

And the weaknesses of the covers wouldn't be half as apparent if they weren't thrown into such stark contrast with an original that could stand proudly alongside "Folsom Prison Blues" or "I Walk the Line". The Cash-penned "The Man Comes Around" is an epic tale of apocalypse, interpreting Revelations with uplifting exuberance. Restraint, resignation, and a hope of peace pervade the prophetic imagery. Truly, the subdued fury and beauty of this track reduces everything that follows. The immediate question posed is: if this man can still write and perform works of this caliber, why is he resorting to the words and music of others? Ideally, the covers should speak this answer for themselves. Unfortunately, Cash fails to give them voice to do so, and as such, they remain unfortunately silent.