It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a point when Johnny Cash was considered … uncool. Sure, he was always the Man in Black, but there was a long string of disposable albums of children’s music, gospel, Christmas songs and re-released material. Then along came the epically bearded rap and rock producer Rick Rubin (co-founder of label Def Jam), and thus was born one of the more fruitful — and unusual — musical collaborations of the 1990s. With stripped-down production, generally just Cash’s deep voice and a guitar, American Recordings launched the erstwhile country star past his Nashville fans into the mainstream. Covering songs by Danzig and Tom Waits, Cash showed he was as hip as anyone to anything different — as long as it was good. Cash and Rubin recorded four more American albums, the last released after Cash’s death.
He was a rock star of a certain period, so it would have been weird if Meatloaf hadn’t done a fairly serious amount of drugs. But then Meatloaf lost his voice — those glorious, soaring, over-the-top pipes of his; O cruel fate! Years passed, as did several crappy albums. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” would still play in full during holiday classic-rock blocks. But in 1993, 16 years after the original album, came Bat out of Hell II. And that song. Oh, that song — “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That).” What was that? You’ll do anything but love, but you won’t do what? Who cares; heartfelt and campy, with a video directed by Michael Bay of all people — this is what we call a comeback.
