Sony/Legacy marks Cash''s birthday with the re-release of ''60s albums The Fabulous Johnny Cash, Hymns by Johnny Cash, Carryin'' On (a.k.a. Jackson), Orange Blossom Special and Ride This Train. All hit stores in March. Sony/Legacy released Love God Murder, a themed three-disc J.C. anthology, in 2000.

Love

"Love is a burnin'' thing," said Cash. When I was 17, I found out just what he meant. That summer, we drove across a hundred miles every weekend to see the cowboys in the next Colorado town. We danced in parking lots as Johnny Cash and Hank Williams blared out of truck stereos. One of the boys fought forest fires for a living and smelled like ashes; I used to imagine he sucked the fire out of the trees and carried it down to the valley in his mouth like the redneck Prometheus. When he kissed me, flames leapt onto my tongue like a deadly gift.

And so all the romantic misery I''ve ever had is Johnny Cash''s fault--his songs primed us for apocalyptic love, bound for prison or purgatory. "Delia, oh Delia," Cash mourns, "if I hadn''t shot poor Delia, I''da had her for my wife." You listen to enough of that stuff as a girl and you start looking for trainwreck romance. Cash delivers even the sweetest love songs in a voice heavy with fate: "If we''re ever parted/ I will keep the tie that binds us/ and I''ll never let it break/ ''cause I love you."

In that quavering moan, he sings the terrible knowledge that eternal damnation and eternal love are one and the same. And it burns, burns, burns.

--Becky Ohlsen

God

Of all the Mormons, Hare Krishnas and other proselytizers who''ve tried to lure me to their teams, only Cash has come close to succeeding. Of course, he had some help from an ancient ally of Religion--namely, Demon Liquor.

I was at a party hosted by a friend blessed with a rather extensive Cash collection. Before long the Man in Black''s Unchained found its way into the hi-fi. I''d imbibed generously, and was well into a stupor that inspired special appreciation of Cash''s brand of song. Especially "Spiritual," which features the refrain, "Jesus, oh Jesus/ I don''t wanna die alone."

I''ve never been one for spiritual diversions, but as I pondered this sad verse, I began to wonder if perhaps I could use some religion. Of course, the communion rite reminds us that spirits have long played a role in aiding people to the Spirit--but, strange as it sounds, it did feel like I was in the midst of some genuine revelation. Maybe I figured if it was good enough for Johnny, it was good enough for me.

Then someone less Cash-friendly than I changed the music, and any lingering enlightenment vanished from the intoxicated recesses of my mind.

--Dan Engler

Murder

Marijohn Wilkins co-wrote "The Long Black Veil." Johnny Cash sings the murder ballad on 1965''s Orange Blossom Special and 1968''s At Folsom Prison. She tells this story about the song:

"Danny Dill handed me this lyric. He said, ''Oh, here''s this old thing I wrote. If you like it, write some music for it. If not, throw it in the trash.'' I read and I just got goosebumps. I sat down at the piano--50 years in country music and I haven''t learned guitar--and played it. ''Long Black Veil'' just came out.

"The appeal of Johnny''s version is the appeal of a lot of his music--it''s volatile, and he just blasts out at society in a very strange and unexpected manner. A lot of country songs are about cheatin'', but not many take it to the level of people bein'' killed, and people walking over their grave, and all that. Old folk songs were like that--they were all blood and gore. And ''Long Black Veil'' captured that quality.

"When he played that song on Folsom Prison, I think that was the first crossover record that Nashville ever had that felt right. You knew it wasn''t a novelty hit or a fluke. You knew Johnny was gone stay right wherever he wanted to be."

--Marijohn Wilkin (as told to Zach Dundas)

This story originally appeared in Willamette Week.