Remembering OK Soda

Those of you who were young in the early to mid-1990s may remember OK Soda. I myself remember the pseudo-hipster ads published in the local newspaper my freshman year of college. Certainly, it is a product recalled with fondness by Eylúðr, who went to the trouble to create his own nostalgia page for the product. Back in December of 2007, before this site went on an extended hiatus, he was kind enough to submit to a brief interview on his tribute site. Unfortunately, when Chronological Snobbery returned from its extended vacation, Eylúðr's tribute site, hosted on the now defunct GeoCities, was no longer online. (In fact, all GeoCities sites were apparently wiped from the face of the Internets in 2009). But in the spirit of preserving Eylúðr's effort for posterity, I will run this long lost interview, despite the fact that the website in question is now and forever lost to history. Alas.

1. Why a website on OK Soda?

I was going through old magazines in my basement when I was around 14/15 and I found this article in Time about this line of soda that Coca-Cola tried to market and I just thought it was very interesting. It was the May 1994 issue. I have the article saved in a folder somewhere. Corporations just want to make money off you . . . bottom line. They marketed this soda to the disaffected Gen-Xers of the early 90s.

2. What do you remember about the marketing and release of OK Soda? Were you in one of the test markets?

I was not in a test market. I was 7 when it came out and I don't ever remember seeing it. There used to be empty cans on sale on eBay and empty cardboard cases, stuff like that. I wanted one.

3. What did it taste like?

People who actually had the soda said it tasted like a slightly fruity rendition of Classic Coke with a little spice/kick to it. You might be able to find "recipes" on some other tribute sites. I have made it before at a soda fountain. It's basically like . . . 3/4 cola (some use semi-flat cola), 1/4 orange soda, and a splash of Mr. Pibb/Dr. Pepper. (Fans say this is one of the closer recipes).

(Personally I think about a 1/3 cola, about a 1/3 Mr. Pibb, and about a 1/3 orange soda tastes BETTER OR 1/2 Mr. Pibb and 1/2 orange soda but then its not "OK Soda.")

4. Do you believe OK Soda is something that is quintessentially 1990s? If so, how and why?

I would say it is "90s" but not VERY 90s. Just a huge company trying to manipulate your specific demographic and "zeitgeist" just to make their wallets fatter. You get that every decade.

P.S. I miss Pepsi Blue. And I am crazy about Limited Edition Mountain Dew "Game Fuel."

If you're interested in other OK Soda tribute sites, though, see here and here (the latter of which includes a complete text of the OK Soda Manifesto, not to be missed).

The Stoned Age (1994) (Including New Interview with Director James Melkonian)

What better film to revisit on 4/20 than 1994's The Stoned Age, a comedy set in the 1970's dedicated to the proposition that even routine deadbeats can find a night of misadventure if the stars are properly aligned? Today, Chronological Snobbery is proud to present its review and analysis of that film, as well as an original interview with its director, James Melkonian.

Written by Melkonian and Rich Wilkes, and directed by Melkonian (who would later write and direct 1995's The Jerky Boys flick), the film is a low budget look at high school life in the late 1970s and the social dilemmas confronted by those in that world. Perhaps its most important lesson: Beware of lasers striking you at Blue Oyster Cult rock shows. Released one year after Dazed and Confused, The Stoned Age still has a nice charm to it, in that way that some indie flicks of the early 1990s still do, despite the passage of so many years.

Above: The film's protagonists, Hubbs and Joe.

The plot: Hubbs (Bradford Tatum) and Joe (Michael Kopelow) are two burnouts looking for something to do on a weekend night. They ride around in Hubbs' vehicle, dubbed the "Blue Torpedo," which has a large flying eyeball painted on its side. Armed with only a bag of "skankweed" and a huge bottle of Schnapps ("The Schnappster!"), they scour the town for parties and chicks. An alpha-male burnout bully, Hubbs takes for granted his friendship with Joe, who is often the object of insults by Hubbs. Joe, for his part, is a far more sensitive soul, especially after a bizarre experience he had at a recent Blue Oyster Cult concert. It appears that during the solo of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," a laser shone directly upon him, at which point "everything got kind of weird" when he had a vision of a "huge gnarly eyeball." Yikes.

Above: Joe is hit by a laser at the Blue Oyster Cult show.

The cardinal sin in this world is to be a "worm," namely, one who pilfers from another the opportunity to pursue "chicks." You see, information about the existence and location of single females is great currency. Rumor gets out that Crump's Brother (known by no other name in the film), recently released from jail, has located "some chicks." Tack (Clifton Collins, Jr.), an acne-plagued deadbeat, wanders off with this information, but ultimately alerts Hubbs and Joe, who ditch Tack and make their way to the home where the chicks are staying, which happens to be near "the old Frankie Avalon home," a convenient landmark. This irks Tack, who spends the rest of the film attempting to regain possession of the chicks.

Hubbs and Joe find the two chicks: the blonde Lanie (Renee Griffin), who multiple characters comment looks like the girl on a Scorpions album cover, and the dour brunette Jill (China Kantner) who is, at best, unappreciative of the presence of the two deadbeats at her father's home. Madcap hijinks ensue as Hubbs and Joe first attempt to buy liquor for Lanie, who is apparently accustomed to more adventurous suitors than they. Then, the four of them trek across town to a party held at the home of jock Jimmy Muldoon (Jake Busey), who admits Lanie and Jill but bars Hubbs and Joe from the party. When that affair is busted by the cops, the foursome escape back to the girls' home, only to be besieged by Tack and his cadre of beer swilling friends, and later, the very angry Crump's Brother who, it turns out, only claims the chicks because he saw them first and not because he actually knew them.

And then, after all that, Jill's father arrives. Hubbs and Joe can't catch a break.

Above: Lanie (Renee Griffin) opens the door and scowls at Hubbs and Joe.

Hubbs spends much of the film attempting to woo the traditionally hot Lanie, who ultimately accepts his bedroom advances. (Nudity alert!) Joe also spends much of the film pursuing Lanie, who rejects him, but who also causes him to realize that sometimes the girl who doesn't look like she belongs on a heavy metal album cover is the right one. He also owes this epiphany to his being hit by the laser, an experience Joe revisits often during the film. The bookish and demure Jill, initially stand-offish, warms up to Joe, and by the end of the film, they realize their mutual attraction for each other. (Joe scores major points by praising her intelligence when standing up to Jill's angry father, who seems to wish his daughter was more like Lanie.).

Above: Hubbs and Joe.

Located via his Facebook account, Melkonian was kind enough to submit to a brief email interview about the film and his experiences in bringing it to life.

1) Looking back from 2010, what do you think of 1994's The Stoned Age and its place in film history?

It is hard to say what place The Stoned Age has in film history. To me, I like to think it is in league with films like American Graffitti or Dazed And Confused, but since it was made for so small a budget and never really promoted, it is hard to say how many people even know the film. I honestly think it does a good job of capturing and satirizing the attitudes of a certain time period and subculture, and is actually funny, which makes it worthy of some note. The fact that it has a loyal albeit small following even 16 years later makes me think that it does deserve a place along with those other films.

2) What were some of the challenges you faced in making the film?

The tough thing was trying to get it made at all as an R rated teen comedy and with me as a first time director. My writing partner (Rich Wilkes) and I had a lot of interest from studios for the script, but since it was before American Pie or Superbad had cleared the way for R rated teen comedies, the studios wanted to make it a PG. So, we ended up making the film for a tiny budget so that we could do it with all the language, sex and drug references which were important to capture that world authentically.

3) I've read that although the year the film is set is not stated, you had 1978 in mind. Thus, it's been sixteen years since the film was released in 1994, and the film was set sixteen years before that. What do you think became of the characters shown in the film?

Hah! In some ways to me the characters seem so much part of the world of that time and the film, it's hard for me to imagine what they might being doing today. I would assume Joe, Hubbs and Jill would have ended up okay and been productive members of society like many of us who might have been rowdy in our youth. Things may not have gone so well for Tack and Lanie, but I hope they turned out okay. The 70s were an odd time to grow up with all of the drugs and debauchery, but most people I know no matter how off the deep end they were back then turned out okay.

Until a few days ago, when I began preparations for this post, I had not seen this movie since 2000. (Get this: The film can be streamed on Netflix.). It has a some amusing moments and catchphrases, and there is always a charm to a film made at this budgetary level. Much of the humor and fun comes from the characters themselves, their exploits, social etiquette, and slang. (A favorite moment: One character is almost offended when offered a regular sized can of the fictitious beer, Ox 45, because it is not a "tall."). For a low budget flick with a cast of unknowns, it works, and sometimes, even just the characters repeating phrases like "Tack's Chicks," "Crump's Brother's Chicks," or variations of the insult "worm" are enough to provoke a laugh.

For a film called The Stoned Age, there isn't much marijuana. Joe has a bag of "skankweed" with which he attempts to seduce Lanie in a hot tub, although she rejects it for its poor quality. Joe ultimately smokes it with Lanie, but despite it's title, the film is not really a pot comedy.

Above: Tack (Clifton Collins, Jr.) tries to find transportation to the chicks.

So, what became of the cast? As the blogger Darsh has noted at the HappyOtter blog, few of the actors and actresses in the film achieved any level of success after 1994; only Clifton Collins, Jr. truly remains active in the profession. For a film set in the 1970s, it's odd that there were no references to Jefferson Airplane, especially since Jill was played by China Kantner, the daughter of singer Grace Slick and vocalist Paul Kantner. (In fact, an infant China Kantner appeared on the cover of the 1971 LP Sunfighter by Slick and Paul Kantner, who were doing a solo effort away from Jefferson Airplane.). Social media alert: Michael Kopelow, who played Joe, has a MySpace Profile and plays in the band, Captain Pants. And finally, behold, the trailer for the film:

High Strung (1994)

High Strung (1994), directed by Roger Nygard, is by no means a great film. But it has its moments. I first saw this comedy, the bizarre tale of Thane Furrows (Steve Oedekerk), as a freshman in college, late at night, at party full of slightly intoxicated film students. Featuring Steve Oedekerk as Furrows, this film has some genuinely amusing moments (even more so if the viewer is aided by alcohol), even if the film's pacing is a bit uneven at times. Oedekerk's Furrows is an angry and bitter fellow with little patience for the compromises we are all forced to make with the world. That type of attitude makes him not the best at his profession as a greeting card writer. Throughout the film, he offers us his views on life and the universe, including this gem:

Relationships? They shouldn't even call them relationships. They should have a more descriptive name: Painland.

Wisdom, indeed. Joining Oedekerk in the cast are Jim Carrey (who plays Death, in a role before he was Jim Carrey, Hollywood megastar), a young Kirsten Dunst, Thomas F. Wilson (Biff from Back to the Future), Denise Crosby (Tasha Yar from Star Trek: TNG), and last, but certainly not least, Jani Lane, the lead singer of Warrant. That's right; the guy who sang "Cherry Pie" in 1990 is in this movie. Despite the fact that it features actors who later became much more famous, the film has never been released on DVD. The original home video release is long out of print. Diehards can find copies on, gasp, videocassette by searching eBay and the like. As far as early 1990s comedies go, it's fun and sometimes clever, certainly something that should be readily available for rental or purchase considering the actors in it who later became famous. But it is apparently not to be. (See here for more on this film from Oedekerk's official site. It appears that he, or his web site administrator, originally had grander, but unfulfilled plans, for the page on his site dedicated to the film.).

Bruce Springsteen - Streets of Philadelphia Single (1994)

This single for Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia," promoted as featuring "Music from the Motion Picture," features the studio version of that song and three live performances from his 1992 appearance on MTV. Although the film Philadelphia was released in late 1993 (as was the official soundtrack), the Springsteen single was not released until February of 1994.

The track list is as follows:

1. Streets of Philadelphia
2. If I Should Fall Behind (Live)
3. Growing Up (Live)
4. Light of Day (Live)

The three live tracks were recorded on September 22, 1992. Of these, only two were made available on his In Concert/MTV Plugged disc, while the absent performance ("Growing Up") was available on the VHS and DVD releases of that concert. The studio version of "Philadelphia" would appear a year later on Springsteen's Greatest Hits album, released on February 27, 1995.

Most of the concert is available on YouTube:

Above: Springsteen performs "Growing Up" in 1992 on MTV.


Above: Springsteen performs "Light of Day" in 1992 on MTV.


Above: Springsteen performs "Streets of Philadelphia" in 1994 at the Oscars.

Adrienne Shelly on Homicide: Life on the Street (January 27, 1994)

"In our little community, word travels fast," - Tanya Quinn (Adrienne Shelly), a proprietor of a leather store catering to bondage enthusiasts, to Baltimore Homicide Detective Tim Bayliss (Kyle Secor), answering his question as to how she learned the case had been closed, in "A Many Splendored Thing," the fourth episode and finale of the second season of Homicide: Life on the Street in early 1994.

Today is the first anniversary of the passing of the actress and director, Adrienne Shelly, whose death at age 40 last year gained headlines not just because of her minor fame but because of the macabre circumstances surrounding it. Her death, initially thought a suicide, turned out to be a murder disguised as a self-inflicted death. Most American movie-goers didn't know her name. She appeared in mostly obscure indie movies of the 1990s and was a favorite of director Hal Hartley; in some ways, she was more the "Queen of the Indies" than Parker Posey.

On January 27, 1994, a 27 year old Shelly appeared in "A Many Splendored Thing," the second season finale of Homicide: Life on the Street. Not much has been written about Shelly's cameo on this episode, perhaps because it aired so many years ago before mass Internet usage.

Homicide was a procedural before that term became fashionable to describe such shows, and each week, Baltimore homicide detectives (or "murder police," as they called themselves) would solve, or attempt to solve, several murders over the course of any given episode. In 1994, it was still a powerful and innovative drama in its prime, several years away from its inevitable dilution at the hands of NBC network executives.

Like most episodes of the series, "A Many Splendored Thing" featured several subplots, among them Detectives Meldrick Lewis and Steve Crosetti attempting to solve a murder over a $1.49 pen as well as Detective John Munch confronting his puzzlement at the happiness of his older partner, Detective Stanley Bolander, who is dating 26 year old cellist played by Julianna Marguiles (at that time less than a year from appearing in the first season of ER.). The central plot, though, involves Detectives Frank Pembleton and Tim Bayliss working the murder of one Angela Frandina, who was apparently strangled to death. After some initial interviews with a neighbor, the detectives are led to Frandina's place of employment: the Leather Chain on Broadway, an establishment catering to enthusiasts of leather and bondage. It is there they meet Tanya Quinn (Shelly) who, in addition to maintaing a reserved comfort in her lifestyle choices, directs the detectives to her other job: Eastern Shores Telemarketing Co./Dial-Luv, a phone sex operation. Bayliss is horrified at the sordid employment choices of the victim and goes to great lengths to put his outrage on display for Pembleton, who can only shrug. The two even investigate an underground bondage club, Eve of Destruction, where Angela's last boyfriend worked. Get this: the former boyfriend character's name is Chris Novoselic.

Throughout the episode, Bayliss remains troubled. By 2007 standards, Bayliss's reaction to these underground communities seems almost quaint. But, of course, this episode aired originally in January of 1994, and was written in 1993, well before the Internet enveloped popular culture and made such things easily findable with the click of a mouse.

Upon revisiting Quinn and the Leather Store, the detectives ascertain that Frandina was strangled by something very much like the leather studded belt which comes with a certain leather jacket sold at the store. Such a jacket was purchased by Frandina's neighbor's boyfriend, who has now lost said belt. He ultimately confesses to the killing, which he believes was excusable since she enticed him into some type of seductive bondage game involving strangulation. The case solved, Bayliss returns to his work station, where he is greeted by Quinn, who has come to thank him. Explaining her lifestyle to him, she notes that ""[w]hen I've given myself over completely to the control of someone else, I'm free."

She then presents him with an unexpected reward: a leather jacket of his own. He initially refuses, but Quinn replies, forcefully, that he will indeed take it. He relents. The episode ends with a sequence involving Bayliss wandering the club scene wearing his new leather accessory.

What is it that makes Shelly's performance in an episode in which she appeared no more than a quarter of memorable after thirteen years? It boils down to this: certainty is an attractive quality, especially in someone who looks like Adrienne Shelly. She played the character with a mousy confidence of sorts coupled with a knowing comfort level in her subculture; she didn't give a damn about societal preconceptions, but there was a notable lack of pretension about those would not or could not understand.

Television critic David Bianculli certainly took notice of Shelly's performance. On the date the episode ran, he observed that "[g]uest star Adrienne Shelly, of the 1990 cult movie 'The Unbelievable Truth,' makes a stunning impression as the shopkeeper."¹ A year later, when the episode reran, he noted that "[i]t's a wonderful episode, and Ms. Shelly's Tanya is a wonderful character."² Bianculli was not the only smitten viewer. On February 1, 1994, just days after the episode's first airing, listserv poster Randy Reichardt quipped that Shelly "could put a leather jacket on me anytime." In an email earlier this week, Reichardt, now blogging here, shares that he now has but a "vague recollection" of the episode but notes that "[h]er death was beyond unfortunate, and she deserves to be with us today, still being creative and exciting to watch."

In the aftermath of her death, those who knew her established The Adrienne Shelly Foundation. (See here for a recent interview with her husband, Andy Ostroy, about both his and the couple's three year old daughter's efforts to cope over the past year.) Shelly's last film role was in 2007's Waitress, which she also wrote and directed. It was announced this week that Curb Your Enthusiasm's Cheryl Hines, who appeared with her in Waitress, will direct Shelly's last existing screenplay, Serious Moonlight.

"A Many Splendored Thing" can be found on the fourth disc of the DVD set, Homicide: Life on the Street: Seasons 1 & 2. (A transcription of the episode - not a formal script - can be found here.).

UPDATE (11/01/2007 6:13 PM): Jim King forwards the following clip from YouTube which features Shelly's final scene in the episode:


1. David Bianculli, "'Homicide' Faces its own Finale Tonight," The Baltimore Sun, January 27, 1994.
2. David Bianculli, "For a Reality Good Show, Sample 'VR.5'," The Baltimore Sun, March 10, 2005.

Johnny Cash in Austin, TX (December 8, 1994)

Depicted above is a ticket stub for the Johnny Cash concert held on Thursday, December 8, 1994, at the Frank Erwin Center at the University of Texas at Austin. Texas musicians Don Walser and Jimmie Dale Gilmore opened for Cash that night. Note the purchase price: $19.50.

Cash is now a hero to Generation X (or whatever we're now calling that generation). In April of 1994, Cash had released American Recordings, his first collaboration with Rick Rubin, who would serve as Cash's producer until his 2005 death. Under Rubin's stewardship, Cash would reinvent himself for the final time and later cover, among other songs, Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage" (two years later), U2's "One," (three years later), and, of course, Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" (eight years later). But it was not just the novelty covers that cemented Cash's reputation as an icon and hero to a generation of college students born two decades after he first achieved fame. (Let me be clear: Cash's version of "Hurt" is so stark and believable that it is far beyond a mere novelty.). Rather, it was the dark honesty conveyed by Cash's coarse voice and years of hard living accompanied by an ominous sounding acoustic guitar. On March 17, 1994, Cash served as the keynote speaker at South by Southwest and played Emo's, an alternative rock club on Austin's noted Sixth Street, that night. (See here - and scroll down to the "Walking the Line" story - for a neat anecdote about the 1994 Emo's show.).

Pictured above is Cash during his keynote speech to South by Southwest on March 17, 1994.

On December 8, 1994, Cash returned to Austin as part of the American Recordings tour for the aforementioned show at the Erwin Center. Music critic John T. Davis reviewed the show for the Austin American Statesman. In so doing, he cooed:

Anyone who ever questioned the potency of one man and one guitar need only have been at the Erwin Center on Thursday night to lay all doubts to rest.

There onstage sat a 63-year-old great-grandfather, clad entirely in black and holding an ebony acoustic guitar ("It's time for the black guitar!" he said as he traded in his blond Martin and pulled up a stool to take the stage alone). The only illumination in the house was one white spotlight, trained squarely on him; there was no place to hide.

He was singing something about a beast that raged inside him, a wild thing constrained only by the frailest bonds of love and compassion. And he sang a song about shooting his sweetheart; he felt pretty bad about it. And there was a song about a horse. And the house was rapt. Attentive, engrossed, and above all, silent. Thousands of people, all focused on that one man and that one guitar. If you're Johnny Cash, you can conjure up intimacy amidst absolute strangers.¹

But that review could have described any show by Cash at numerous points in his career. It wasn't until later in his review that Davis attempted to recount this show's specifics:

Over the course of his 31-song set at the Erwin Center, he sang his first hit, 1955's Get Rhythm, contemporary songs by Nick Lowe and Leonard Cohen, and evergreens such as Peace in the Valley and Orange Blossom Special. And he made it all of a piece, so that his set flowed seamlessly across the decades in a way that appealed to grunge fans and graybeards alike.

The Tennessee Three, Cash's accompanists since the Rockies were knee-high, proved themselves a surprisingly supple ensemble, considering how many times their fingers have caressed these licks. They brought a sassy, cantering edge to Big River, I Still Miss Someone and Folsom Prison Blues.

And June Carter Cash infused the show with her own thoroughbred elan and dash, in a miniset that found her crooning and growling in counterpoint to her spouse on Tim Hardin's If I Were a Carpenter, Bob Dylan's It Ain't Me Babe, and the couple's own hit, Jackson.

But it was that time alone in the spotlight that lingers in the memory. Johnny Cash has always wanted to be taken on his own terms, as both a man and an artist. On Thursday night, he got his chance, and it made for a splendid evening.²

It was a good show. In fact, I have created below an annotated set list including the banter and stage dialogue of Cash and his wife, June Carter Cash (conveniently transcribed from a bootleg of the concert and including some interesting career anecdotes and history).

1. Folsom Prison Blues
2. Get Rhythm
3. Sunday Morning Coming Down
4. Ghost Riders in the Sky

JOHNNY CASH: Thank you very much. I'm so glad to be back to Austin. You've already seen a - you've already seen a great show before I came on. Don Walser and Jimmie Dale Gilmore; they're wonderful. They're wonderful. I got a new album out this year that I got some requests to do songs for it. And, uh, first I'd like to do one of my favorites, theirs only me and the guitar on this album. I wanted to call the album Scary. Painfully Honest. Some of the songs I wrote, some were written for me, and some I always wanted to record, some of the old ones, like this one that I've known since I was a little boy, called "Cowboy's Prayer."

5. A Cowboy's Prayer/Oh, Bury Me Not
6. Big River

CASH: Thank you, thank you very much. [Audience yells requests.]. Hey. Right. All right. Yes. All right. I'm gonna do 'em for you. Sure am. I'm gonna try and do 'em all for you. [Applause.]. Wow. We started in 1955, there weren't any drums on country music records, well maybe, and I liked the snare drum. W.S. Holland played drums with Carl Perkins when I met him in 1955. I liked the sound of his snare drum but they wouldn't let me take the drums in the studio so, uh, let me see that. So I did my own little snare drum sound. I don't know where I got this, I may have stolen it, I may have dreamed it up myself, I'm not sure. Been a lifetime ago. That's uh, on the drums W.S. Holland has been with me now 35 years. Yeah, he's -- he's the right one. But we're gonna do this song without him. On the upright bass is Mr. Dave Roe and Bob Wooten on lead guitar. Here's us in 1955.

7. I Walk the Line

CASH: Here's a song I wrote in '59.

8. I Still Miss Someone
9. Man in Black

CASH: Thank you. Here's a patriotic song.

10. Remember the Alamo.
11. Orange Blossom Special

CASH: Thank you. Well, it's time for the black guitar. I'm want to thank - thank you - I want to thank Willie Nelson for letting me come to Austin. (Cheers.). Old Willie. Love Willie Nelson. Willie and Waylon and Kris and I just did a new album - a Highwaymen album - new Highwaymen album that will be out March the 9th. And we all did a solo on the album as well as doing eight songs together. And I'd like to sing one that's my contribution. My son John Carter and I wrote this, and it's called "Death and Hell," subtitled "Pigs Can See The Wind."

12. Death and Hell

CASH: Willie said how can you prove pigs can see the wind and I said you can't but you can't prove they can't.

13. Delia’s Gone
14. Bird On a Wire (Written by Leonard Cohen)

CASH: [Coughs.] Well, I wanted to call the album also - well the theme of it, really, is sin and redemption. And there's two dogs on the cover and one of them is black with a white stripe and one of them is white with a black stripe. Neither one of them is quite all the way kinda like me I guess. Got redemption coming; redemption is coming. Uh, but right now.

15. The Beast in Me
16. Tennessee Stud

CASH: Thank you. Among the writers who contributed to this album were, was, uh, was a fellow named Tom Waits.

17. Down There By the Train

CASH: Here's my song, my Vietnam song. They had an expression that when a situation looked hopeless, couldn't walk through it, no way to get through it, but you had to go through it, the only attitude to take was drive on, don't mean nothing.

18. Drive On

CASH: Thank you. Thank you . Thank you very much. Got a special guest for just - right after this song.

19. Ring of Fire

CASH: Yes, alright. I love you! Thank you. I love you people. I love you people! Here's my favorite entertainer, here's June Carter Cash.

20. Jackson (with June Carter Cash)

JUNE CARTER CASH: Thank you very much.

21. If I Were a Carpenter (with June Carter Cash)

JUNE CARTER CASH: Okay, okay, thank you very much. I - I enjoy doing those two songs with John, uh, they're the easiest ones to sing because they're the only two that I ever won a Grammy for. And I still enjoy doing those with him, and the first song I ever recorded with him was written for us by a friend of ours, and this was way back a long time ago, Bob Dylan wrote this song, we first recorded it and we'll just do it again for you. Maybe you'll remember the song whether you remember us singing it or not.

22. It Ain't Me Babe (with June Carter Cash)

JUNE CARTER CASH: Okay, thank you. I'm not too sure how well we know this one, but we love this song.

CASH: Oh, I love it. Billy Joe Shaver song, new Highwaymen, for the new Highwaymen album.

JUNE CARTER CASH: Well, just press on.

CASH: I'm going to live forever.

23. Live Forever (with June Carter Cash)

Thank you. Thank you very much. It's an exciting time for me to be back in Austin, Texas. I - I started many, many years ago from the old Texas border stations when I was a tiny little girl. My mother was Mother Maybelle Carter, and my uncle A.P. and Aunt Sara Carter -- that was the old original Carter Family. And I sung for many, many years with my sisters and Mother Maybelle on the Grand Ole Opry. And then I've been a part of Johnny Cash's life and been doing what he's been doing, for the past, almost, well, and I've been working with him for about thirty two or three years. But, it's like, we've been married almost 27 years now. So, I'm gonna stay with him if he doesn't really mess up. But sometimes I feel real good singing in family situation because I have sung with my family for so long. And, uh, I love to sing the songs of the Carter Family. They had some 350 to 400 old classic songs. And I'm still singing today most of the time as a -- with John on our shows that we do and I'm just glad to be hear tonight. But I'm lucky, too, because one of our daughters that is my youngest daughter, uh, that, uh, has been singing as a part of the Carter Family now has her own recording contract. And she's going to be recording for a new label that's out by the House of Blues. they also own these Hard Rock Cafes. So, they're going into the recording business. But she's sings a mighty kind of a blues song, and she's here tonight and I'm going to ask her to sing my favorite of the old Carter Family songs with me

CASH: Hey, Rosie!

JUNE CARTER CASH: This is Rosie Carter, ladies and gentlemen! She's right here, Rose, if you will! Okay! I want to ask you to sing this song with us if you know it. It's that kind of a song. Mother Maybelle would be glad if you remembered it. Rosie, will you give me a hand? You too, John.

24. Will the Circle Be Unbroken (with June Carter Cash and Rosie Carter)
25. The Next Time I’m in Town
26. Guess Things Happen That Way
27. Ballad of Ira Hayes
28. Home of the Blues
29. Long Black Veil
30. A Boy Named Sue
31. Peace in the Valley
32. Instrumental Outro

(You can find the set list and other information about this gig here, here, and here.).

Commentary: Cash played a surprising number of tunes from American Recordings that night (although he chose not to play Loudon Wainright's "The Man Who Couldn't Cry" or Glenn Danzig's "Thirteen"). Cash and his wife appeared to enjoy themselves. June Carter Cash couldn't seem to contain her giggles as she sang her way through "If Were A Carpenter."

The soon to be released Highwaymen album to which Cash referred during the show was The Road Goes On Forever, the last that group would release:

Cash himself would give his last full concert in Flint, Michigan, in October of 1997. He and his wife passed away in 2003. Rosie, June Carter's daughter (a/k/a Rosie Nix Adams) who toured with Cash, would die of carbon monoxide poisoning in an apparent accident involving lanterns on a bus in October of 2003 (just a month after Cash's death and five months after her mother's death). Rosie Carter is not to be confused, though, with Roseanne Cash, Cash's daughter with Vivian Liberto and a musician in her own right.

Recently, I re-watched Walk The Line, the 2005 biopic of Johnny Cash featuring Joaquin Phoenix as Cash and Reese Witherspoon as his love interest and future wife, June Carter. Phoenix at times seemed to eerily channel Cash, but at others, merely engage in an awkward impression. Witherspoon, as Carter, was a joy to watch and made it easy to overcome any dislike for actresses known for their prickly personalities and sugary sweet vapid film roles.

Troubling, though, was the film's attempt to justify Cash's affair with June and his accompanying neglect of his then-wife Liberto (played in the film by Ginnifer Goodwin, now of HBO's "Big Love"). Modern viewers know that Cash ends up with June Carter, so the director apparently found it acceptable to portray Liberto as a hysterical stereotype - collateral damage of the truer love of Cash and June Carter. A film with more depth would have probed Liberto's anguish and rejection in more detail rather than giving Goodwin a few token scenes to act the jilted spouse.

Unfortunately, director James Mangold offered nothing unusual with the film. The script, written by Gil Dennis and Mangold, offered the traditional musician biopic formula with the tired ups and downs found on any episode of VH1's "Behind the Music." Certainly, a film depicting the life of someone bold and innovative should be equally bold and innovative. Alas, there was nothing as daring in the film as there was in Cash's own creative work.

Comparisons to the previous year's equally formulaic Ray Charles biopic, Ray, were inevitable. Both films featured musicians who initially subscribe to musical conventions but find that by remaining true to their own instincts and talents, find that they are trailblazers. Both films feature protagonists who were traumatized in their youths by the deaths of their brothers. Both films depict artists who turn to womanizing and drugs to cope with the perils and rigors of the road and success. Both films illustrate that a rigid adherence to formula in biopic film-making does not adequately depict those who made a name for themselves refusing to rigidly adhere to formula. We've seen it all before, and although such tales might and could be compelling when reduced to a two hour cinematic experience, the directors of Walk the Line and Ray chose to present viewers with a typical portrayal of the tortured genius musician.

Cash deserved more; as did Charles. What to do? These directors, as well as those who plan to helm pictures purporting to depict the lives of famous musicians (or artists of any kind, really) should adopt the following guidelines and restraints to avoid the perils of movie cliches:

1. Limit yourself to a two to five year period in the subject's life.

The viewer is bringing with him or her a working knowledge of the subject's life; we don't need to explore every nook and cranny of a career that spans decade. Rather, it would be far more intriguing to see a shorter dramatic episode in the subject's life rather than spread the narrative to thin by exploring too long a period of time. For example, would it not have been more interesting to see a week in the life of Johnny Cash than a two decade period? How about the weak that June Carter takes care of him as he fights the symptoms of withdrawal? How about the week where he finally wears down June's emotional defenses and the two succumb to desire for the first time in that hotel room? Having the narrative cover more than a few years forces the film-maker to cut corners and skimp on true drama.

2. Resist the temptation to depict the traumatic childhood of the subject.

Forcing the adult actor portray the subject's attempts to cope with his childhood is far more dramatic and, for that matter, serves narrative economy by cutting scenes with child actors, who usually offer rather weak portrayals of childhood trauma, anyway.

3. Do not feel compelled restage every famous or iconic moment in the subject's life.

Just because there exists an image from a moment of the subject's life that lived in the public imagination before your biopic, that is not a reason to reenact it. In fact, that is a reason not to reenact it. Your recreation of that moment everyone knows and recognizes will inevitably pale in comparison to the original. That's not drama; it's karaoke.

But no biopic can really do justice to a performer. I myself was fortunate enough to see Cash in concert on one other occasion, almost exactly a year later at a private party in Houston, Texas on December 10, 1995. He was scheduled to play in Austin (again at the Erwin Center) on December 4, 1996 (and I had already purchased my tickets) but he canceled because of an illness, specifically, the flu.³ Plans to reschedule the show the following spring during South by Southwest 1997 did not materialize. I do not believe he played in Austin again.



Above: Johnny Cash, performing "Delia's Gone," live in 1994 at Manhattan Center.



Above: Johnny Cash's video for "Rusty Cage," from his 1996 album, Unchained.



Above: Johnny Cash's video for "Hurt," from his 2002 album, American IV: The Man Comes Around. It is fascinating that Trent Reznor essentially conceded that the song is no longer his and that Cash became its new author.



Above: Johny Cash performs "I Walk The Line" from 1959 (at least according to this YouTube entry's description).

1. John T. Davis, "One man, one guitar is enough," Austin American Statesman, December 10, 1994.
2. Ibid.
3. Michael Corcoran and Chris Riemenschneider, "Street Soundz," Austin American Statesman, December 12, 1996.