The Faithful Are Rewarded

As fodder for art, unanswered prayers are the best kind.

Johnny Cash, a man of deep religious faith, is artist enough to know that. His richly satisfying concert Saturday night at the Freedman Forum was built around prayers--some delivered with bright confidence because they envisioned answers to be granted only in the hereafter, and others fraught with doubt because they sprang from souls in cruel circumstances, needing answers in the here and now.

Hence it was that Cash recited “Cowboy’s Prayer,” asking for divine guidance through the here and now and into the hereafter, and followed it with the cowboy song, “O Bury Me Not,” in which a young cowpoke’s dying prayer goes unheeded by the comrades who, contrary to his last wish, find it expedient to plant him on the lone prairie rather than return his remains to the bosom of his fathers.

“That’s the way folk songs are--they tell the truth sometimes,” Cash mused after finishing the tune. That’s the way his own songs are, too, as they explore the gaps between what’s prayed for and what’s lived.

Cash’s concert was familiar in its generous, two-hour family-affair format and in much of its content. But it also looked forward to what’s next, with two unreleased songs that suggest his album-in-progress may be a worthy successor to “American Recordings,” the 1994 masterpiece that gave him new stature with a new set of fans.

In fact, most of us would take it as an answered prayer if we, too, could arrive at the age of 64 with the creative vigor, undiminished capability and apparent zest for our work that has been granted to Cash.

The Man in Black was a man of many smiles as he faced a warmly admiring audience and interacted with his sharp but understated crew of veteran musicians.

His baritone rumble, a voice as readily identifiable as any in recording history, was in fine condition. And his enthusiasm for his songs was unflagging, even the ones from the dawn of a career that sprang from the legendary Sun Studio in 1955.

Cash sang “Ring of Fire” as if it were a new find just recorded for that next album, not a song that has been in his shows since the Kennedy administration. The same could be said of even older material including “Folsom Prison Blues,” “I Walk the Line,” “Get Rhythm” and “Big River.” Stockpiled early in the set, those signature songs couldn’t have been rendered with more care and engagement.

A two-song glimpse of Cash’s next album--which, unlike the solo-acoustic “American Recordings” will feature backup from such stars as Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers--offered both darkness and light.

“Unchained,” by Jude Johnstone, was a prayer of repentance with no certainty of an answer, and Cash inhabited it with stricken realism: “Have I seen an angel, or have I seen a ghost? / Where’s that rock of ages when I need it most? . . . Take this weight from me, let my spirit be unchained.”

“I Never Picked Cotton” skipped along merrily, its protagonist--a career crook--pleased to inform listeners that he didn’t have to endure the same life of drudge labor as all his near relations.

*

As always, Cash was surrounded by his own nearest relations. Son John Carter Cash, at 26, may be coming into his own. The first of his two featured songs was an intense, urgent and poetic number about seeking an escape from dark times to a “laughing place” he has lost. His voice was rough and burry, but more like an interesting mixture of Bob Dylan and Tom Waits than a copy of his father.

June Carter Cash, more notable for her trouper’s personality than her plain, homespun voice, did comic shtick, poking gentle fun at Nashville’s current hit crop, so faceless that one cowboy-hatted hero is interchangeable with the next.

With her bluesy-voiced daughter, Rosey Carter, she sang nuggets from the Carter Family songbook. An original song, “My Rock and Roll Years,” provided a serious counterpoint to her lighthearted persona, lamenting lost youth and, in the refrain, “I used to be somebody. . . . I’d like to be somebody again” wistfully toting up the cost of having been both the daughter and the wife of country-music icons.

Rosey Carter’s take on “Angel From Montgomery,” the John Prine gem that is still the best vehicle Bonnie Raitt ever rode, was risky given Raitt’s ownership of the song. But Rosey’s limited but tough voice put its own gritty stamp on the song, bringing a combination of steel and brittleness to the character--a believable hint of hysteria that contrasts with the stoicism of Raitt’s rendition.

As all hands gathered near the end, the mood soared heavenward with upbeat gospel songs. But Cash brought the concert back to the nettlesome earth with a closing series of songs underscoring the unavoidable losses life brings.

Stoic bearing-up was the response in “I Guess Things Happen That Way,” and dignified sorrow was the tenor of the glowing “I Still Miss Someone.” Both songs featured Earl Ball’s sympathetic piano solos--nothing ostentatious, but clean, simple, lovely decorations.

Cash may be famous for his monochrome presence, his stripped-down sound and that unflaggingly deep voice, but they serve an artistry that is anything but one-dimensional.

*

Big Sandy and His Fly-Rite Boys sounded sharper than ever as they opened for Cash: All that touring has served the up-and-coming, ‘50s-rooted Anaheim band well.

The smooth voice of Robert “Big Sandy” Williams was like an enlivening breeze, and his between-songs good humor was winning too.

With just 25 minutes allotted, and the sound system kept at low volume, Big Sandy and crew didn’t have ideal circumstances for a big homecoming show, but the band’s swinging country music and fresh songwriting won the crowd. (A fuller appreciation will be possible as Big Sandy headlines Saturday at the Foothill Club in Signal Hill, and May 3 at Linda’s Doll Hut in Anaheim.)

Mass acceptance for deep-roots music is a rarity, but it isn’t completely outrageous to suppose that this band might one day be, if not the Alison Krauss of jumping rockabilly and country swing, then perhaps the Los Lobos.

As ever, the rotating stage and in-the-round set-up of the Freedman Forum (formerly the Celebrity Theatre) made for an evening of frustrating trade-offs: Everyone gets to see the stars up-close, but half the time it’s their backs, or just the backs of their equipment cases, that are presented for up-close viewing.

What this county still needs--the newly pop-tolerant Orange County Performing Arts Center has severe scheduling limits--is a good, practical proscenium concert theater with 2,000 seats.