Now, there’s no doubting the authenticity of the inmates’ love of Cash, or his devotion to them. Welcome him after he says, ’Johnny Cash.’ I’ll have my hands up, you just follow me…”Īnd so it goes. I’m Johnny Cash.’ When he says that, then you respond. “When John comes out here, he will say, and which will be recorded, ‘Hi there. ![]() Then, Cherry returns, and – devout believers in the Cash myth might want to look away now – he tells the prisoners exactly what Columbia Records would like them to do: Acting as genial Master of Ceremonies, Hugh Cherry, a writer and radio broadcaster, warms up the crowd, first introducing short support slots from Carl Perkins (reclaiming his “Blue Suede Shoes”) and The Statler Brothers (“This Ole House”). Instead, we hear what actually happened that day, January 13, 1968, in the dining hall at California’s Folsom State Prison. It’s strange, then, not to hear that familiar moment at the start of this new, expanded edition of Cash’s greatest album. ![]() ![]() Drop the needle to the record, hear the vinyl click, and then that voice, coming weirdly up out of the silence with its modest but monumental introduction – setting all hell loose, as 1,000 hardened felons stamp, clap, whistle and howl their appreciation, and Cash and his band go clattering and boom-chika-chiking into the fiercest ever rendition of “Folsom Prison Blues” itself. ![]() All the really great albums have really great openings, but you’d be hard pressed to find a more iconic overture than the first seconds of the original At Folsom Prison LP.
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