Johnny Cash
has called
June Carter-Cash
one of the most neglected artists in country music, whose contributions will always be overlooked in the shadow of her husband's own success -- his only regret, he says, in having married her. On the couple's 1967 release
Carryin' On With Johnny Cash and June Carter
-- recorded a year before their marriage and while
Cash
was still officially, unhappily wed to his first wife
Vivian
--
June
emerges briefly not merely as a longtime backup singer or opening act, but as an equal and able performer and partner. Indeed, her gritty
country
voice is one of the album's greatest strengths, providing a nice complement and counter to
's famous, unadorned bass.
Carryin' On
contains the hit single
"Jackson,"
along with
"Long-Legged Guitar Pickin' Man,"
a boisterous, rocking and rolling minor hit featuring
Johnny
in the lead role and
as his lovably nagging
"Big-Mouthed Woman."
Other performances include less effective detours into
folk-rockish
and pseudo-soulful realms: They cut a fine cover of
Richard & Mimi Farina
's then-popular
"Pack Up Your Sorrows"
and wade a little awkwardly through
Bob Dylan
's
"It Ain't Me, Babe,"
gracelessly spitting out the "babe" of the title against
"Ring of Fire"
mariachi
horns. Both sides of the record end with versions of
Ray Charles
classics,
"I Got a Woman"
and an especially shaky
"What'd I Say,"
which, like
"Babe,"
may prove as endearing to
fans as irritating to less-dedicated listeners. While
seems a little uncomfortable, or at least out of place, on the
Charles
numbers,
sounds surprisingly at home and rescues the performances with her soulful, growling vocals. The album's lowest moment, meanwhile, is its second track,
"Shantytown,"
in which syrupy female voices provide sentimental,
Hee Haw
routine choruses of "I live down in Shantytown/Where the chicken's 20 cents a pound." Despite such moments, though, the album manages to overcome its weaknesses by the strength of the couple's collaboration;
and
, eternally genuine and altogether unembarrassed even in the midst of their worst or most ridiculous arrangements, can perform corny or ill-fitted material with such honesty and conviction that you have almost no choice but to believe and enjoy it. Along with the duo's unforgettable voices, the record's mix of harmonicas, banjo, dobro, and hot electric guitar licks lends a down-home, carefree spirit to the entire effort. This, on some level, is
at home, or -- as on the cover -- kicked back in a grassy field,
, and the world is better off for having witnessed the whole thing. ~ Burgin Mathews