‘Johnny Cash Sings Ballads of the American Indian’: a considered representation of the Native American experience, or a product of cultural appropriation?
Released in 1964, Johnny Cash’s concept album Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash Sings Ballads of the American Indian explores the stories of the Native American experience in relation to the conquest and colonisation of the American west.[1] The album consists of eight songs written by Cash himself and singer-songwriter Peter LaFarge. Both artists held a deep commitment to understanding the complexities of Native life in America, an attitude that was developed from a young age. However, at times in their careers both artists also wrongfully claimed to have Native ancestry, Cash in particular claiming he had ‘Cherokee blood’ that justified him singing from ‘the Indian’s viewpoint’.[2] This led to questions of cultural appropriation and exploitation. However, I will argue that the Bitter Tears album was a deeply considerate representation of the Native American experience that allowed for attention to be brought to underdiscussed social issues.[3] Not only was it largely embraced and accepted by the Native community upon its original release, but it retains that acceptance and respect up until the current day. The album received significant backlash from Columbia Records, radio stations, and music publications for its honesty and integrity, with Cash responding in an angered way that only further reinforced his commitment to the cause. This album went beyond a calculated career move into the world of 60s folk music, and instead was a product of necessity and empathy. As Antonino D’Ambrosio comments in ‘A Heartbeat and a Guitar’, Cash was the ‘eternal seeker motivated by innate instincts, rather than the predictable opportunism of celebrity’.[4]
Debates around the idea of cultural appropriation have long been present in the conversation around art and social politics, including the question of who gets to tell stories. However, the complexity of shared emotion must be recognised within this particular example. Cash grew up in Arkansas in an area of severe poverty, his family living in a community with many Native families. When the 1930s brought the Great Depression, New Deal resettlement programmes were introduced in the hopes of helping those suffering most, primarily agriculture families. In 1934, the Cash family heard about ‘a new program run by the Federal Emergency Relief Administration in which farmers…were to be resettled on land the government had bought’.[5] This took them to Dyess, an Arkansas community where they were provided with land and a house. As Cash recalled in a reference to the ‘first song [he] remembers singing’, to him this was ‘the Promised Land’.[6] Throughout Cash’s career, he clashed with dominant political narratives and made it known through his music, but Tom Smucker suggests that the lasting appreciation for the government assistance received in his early life is threaded throughout his music. In Cash’s work there are ‘all the country virtues of family and hard work and religion, and the post-war energies of upward mobility and modernization’ but there is also a strong presence of the ‘New Deal feeling for social justice, national unity, tolerance, and progress’.[7]
Despite the gratitude that Cash felt to the New Deal resettlement program, it was a significant moment in his political awakening towards the disparities faced by Indigenous communities.[8] In the post-Depression years, treaties were broken and Indigenous families were not supported equally by the federal government. The allotment of land for white resettlement had resulted in 60% loss of Native lands since the 1887 Dawes Allotment Act, the New Deal exacerbated this inequality and 100,000 landless Native peoples were struggling to live self-sustainably.[9] As Cash witnessed this, an empathy and genuine concern for the welfare of Native Americans was instilled. Music gave him the opportunity to express this and during the 1960s, he understood that he could ‘use his celebrity and success to make a point.’[10]
In contrast to Cash, Peter LaFarge grew up in a level of privilege as the son of successful writer and anthropologist Oliver LaFarge, who was committed to speaking on and researching Indigenous culture. Like Cash, Peter LaFarge had no Native ancestry but held a lifelong genuine concern for the treatment of Native Americans. LaFarge had found that he could continue his father’s activist work through songwriting. At a benefit concert for the Oliver LaFarge American Indian Fund, the New York Times reported that Peter’s performance was a testament to LaFarge’s ‘inexorable belief in justice for the American Indian and to his equally inexorable faith in his own creative abilities’.[11]
Some may suggest that these artists were culturally appropriating Native struggles that neither had personally experienced, but there is a degree of wholehearted commitment that is difficult to deny. Particularly during the 1960s, folk music was rapidly rising in popularity, often successfully bringing awareness to contemporary social issues, however, as a genre it has also been scrutinised for its ease of slipping into a romanticisation of identity issues. As William G. Roy suggests, ‘Folk music is always the culture of some “other,” either racial, regional, class, or national,’ and so the very roots of folk music involve telling stories that may not necessarily be from personal experience.[12] Following this understanding, Bitter Tears could be seen as an attempt to profit on the stories of others, however, Cash’s status gave these stories a much larger audience, and the Indigenous community seemed to understand and embrace this. As Native activist Dennis Banks reflected, ‘Thanks to Cash, now we knew that a lot more people were actively involved in raising the consciousness of America on behalf of Native people.’[13]
Throughout the writing, production, release and response to Bitter Tears, it is evident that the genuine consideration for accurately representing the Native experience goes beyond surface-level storytelling or appropriation. In Cash’s autobiography, he reflected on the lead up to the album, stating that ‘I dove into primary and secondary sources… I carried a heavy load of sadness and outrage; I felt every word of those songs.’[14] By releasing this album in the 1960s, Cash was reminding the public of the existence of Native Americans at a time when political conversations were heavily focused on matters of civil rights and anti-violence. ‘Instead of relegating American Indians to history, the album keeps them in the present,’ Leigh H. Edwards writes. In doing this, Cash is actively opposing the idea of the “Vanishing Indian” and is instead using his public power to bring the discussion back into the contemporary political moment.[15] Although some believe that his ‘songs and images are ambivalent and conflicted’, the fundamental themes of the album illustrate how Cash’s work can ‘shed light on deep American ideological issues and hold them in dynamic tension.’[16] Ultimately, Bitter Tears was accepted by the people the stories are about, with Banks calling it ‘one of the earliest and most significant statements on behalf of Native people and our issues’ and an approval like this reiterates its value.[17]
Before partnering with Cash on the Bitter Tears album, LaFarge had already penned several songs telling Indigenous stories. His narrative-focused songwriting often took place within significant moments in Native history. Made by white artists but telling the Native community’s stories, Bitter Tears can be understood through Edward Soja’s theory of third-space. It combines ‘the real and the imagined, the knowable and the unimaginable’ to create a deeper understanding of a place.[18] Developing out of a third-space allowed for the dominant stereotypical narrative, especially that of the “Vanishing Indian”, to be undermined and replaced with something that counteracted those dynamics of oppression. Cash and LaFarge were using ‘real’ stories in combination with their somewhat ‘imagined’ songwriter identities to create an accessible space for internal Native storytelling, one that moved Bitter Tears further away from a trivial example of cultural appropriation.
‘Drums’ is a first-person recollection from the perspective of a young Native boy who was sent to an Indian boarding school in an attempt to ‘civilise’ Native youth; the first track on the album is titled ‘As Long As The Grass Shall Grow’, a phrase taken directly from one of the many broken treaties between the US and the Native people; ‘Custer’ contains feelings of satisfaction at the death of General George A. Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn. The narrative-based ballads example how ‘La Farge’s songs didn’t whitewash history’.[19] His songs were controversially honest, with ‘The Ballad of Ira Hayes’ recalling the story of the Pima Indian marine. Hayes went from being a victim of ‘white man’s greed’ as the ‘white man stole the water rights’, to being ‘celebrated through the land’ after an historic war victory, to returning home where he ‘died drunk early one mornin’, alone in the land he fought to save.’[20] Hayes’ story demonstrates the difficulties that Indigenous individuals faced in developing a Native American identity that would be accepted in wider society, particularly during events such as World War II, that required a sense of internal unity within nations. Hayes went from being a celebrated exmaple of American pride and victory, back to his Native community in which people could not understand why he would fight for a country that refused to fight for them, to a slow and forgotten death through alcoholism. Through the story of Hayes’ life, we see the tension present in the white-Indigenous relationship; Cash’s recording of this song reminded America to see Indigenous people in the present tense, not only in the past.
It was perhaps the fact that Cash was trying to make Bitter Tears so relevant that caused issues for his label. The content was projecting questions around Native rights rather than adhering to the “Vanishing Indian” narrative, it was not a sonic continuation of Cash’s earlier big-hit releases, and there was a concern that it would not appeal to Cash’s already-established country audience. Columbia Records did not only lack encouragement for the album but made it adamantly clear to Cash that a politically motivated concept album was not what they wanted. ‘I got a lot of flak from the Columbia Records bosses while I was recording it,’ Cash recalled in his autobiography, ‘and when it was released, many radio stations wouldn’t play it.’[21] Although artists like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Pete Seeger were finding great success in their folk work, Columbia Records executives wanted Cash to ‘entertain not educate’, for Cash, his work was about honesty not success.[22] ‘None of what Cash did… was done without record executives threatening to fire us, sue, or ruin our careers,’ Bob Johnston, one of Cash’s producers, recalled.[23]
Due to Columbia’s “soft-censorship”, the album peaked at number 47 on the Billboard 200 Chart, much lower than previous releases, but this charting dip did not concern Cash. His concern lay with the reaction the music was receiving from within the industry. Echoing Columbia’s original attempt to restrict the politically fuelled album, print magazines refused to write reviews of ‘Ira Hayes’, and radio stations restricted airplay of the song. In response, Cash penned an angry protest letter and personally paid for it to be published in Billboard Magazine asking ‘D.J.s, station managers, owners, etc. where are your guts?’.[24] He urges D.J.s to ‘listen again to the record’ and understand that the story of Ira Hayes is one that should be known, that if Native stories throughout history are ignored then there is no opportunity for progress. The letter does once again lean into Cash’s controversial “pretendian” identity, as he claims that he is ‘a half-breed Cherokee-Mohawk’, but the underlying tone is one of support as he ‘had to fight back’ when realising that stations were ‘afraid of “Ira Hayes”.’[25] The overall impact being an undeniably strong stance with the Native community, rather than a self-indulgent act of commercial desire.
Its legacy and post-release life suggests that the attitudes towards Native American culture have changed over the years. The fiftieth anniversary album Look Again to the Wind: Johnny Cash’s Bitter Tears Revisited featured many prominent names within the country music community, a connection that could have brought negative press to their careers upon original release but instead was a celebration of Native storytelling and Cash’s art. ‘Ira Hayes’ has been covered by countless artists and remains as one of the best progressive anthems ever recorded: it allows the same history to be told by whoever is singing it, maintaining that conversation as a contemporary matter.[26] In an interview almost thirty years after the release of Bitter Tears, Ojibway journalist Richard Wagamese recalled how Cash’s album demonstrated his deep understanding and sympathy towards Native culture: ‘He was an Indian, Johnny Cash, if not in blood then in sentiment and spirit.’[27] As Cash frames the unapologetic presence of Native culture, ‘There are drums beyond the mountains, Indian drums that you can’t hear… and they’re getting mighty near’, Bitter Tears perhaps being an example of one of these ‘Indian drums’.[28]
To conclude, Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash Sings the Ballads of the American Indian was made with such intense dedication and genuine concern for Native American welfare that it feels representative of experience. It allowed for the conversation surrounding the lasting impacts of western conquest and colonisation on Native communities to be brought to a new audience, one that finds worth in music and the stories that it can tell. While conversations around cultural appropriation in art are complex, we should look to those from within the culture that is thought to be being appropriated to understand the extent to which they could be damaging. The album liner notes for Bitter Tears, written by country music lecturer and disc jockey Hugh Cherry, leave us with an understanding of how deeply Cash was embraced by the Native community: ‘His facility for perception and insight lends validity to these tales of anguish. Johnny is justified in the stand he takes.’[29] Ultimately, Bitter Tears demonstrates the importance of connecting social, spiritual and artistic forces and the good that genuine and considerate representations of shared struggle can do. In 1966 Chief Corbett Sundown of the Tonawanda Seneca conducted an adoption ceremony for Cash, naming him “Ha-Goa-Ta”, meaning Story Teller in recognition of his work.[30] An honour of this level indicates just how wholeheartedly the Native community embraced Cash, his passion, and his genuine and considered art.
References
[1] Johnny Cash, Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash Sings Ballads of the American Indian, Johnny Cash, (Columbia Records, 1964).
[2] Leigh H. Edwards, Johnny Cash and the Paradox of American Identity, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), p. 108.
[3] Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash Sings Ballads of the American Indian referred to as Bitter Tears throughout.
[4] Antonino D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar: Johnny Cash and the making of Bitter Tears, (New York: Nation Books, 2009), p. 238.
[5]Johnny Cash, Patrick Carr, Cash: The Autobiography of Johnny Cash, (London: Harper Collins, 2006), p. 15.
[6]Cash, Cash: The Autobiography, p. 16.
[7]Jonathan Silverman, ‘A “Dove with Claws”? Johnny Cash as Radical’, Journal for the Study of Radicalism, Vol. 1, No. 2, (2007), p. 95.
[8]Native American and Indigenous used interchangeably throughout.
[9]Andrew Boxer, ‘Native Americans and the Federal Government’, History Review, 64 (2009), , [accessed 13 November 2024].
[10] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 172.
[11] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 193-194.
[12] William G. Roy, ‘Aesthetic Identity, Race, and American Folk Music’, Qualitative Sociology, 25 (2002), p. 459.
[13] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 184.
[14] Cash, Cash: The Autobiography, p. 214.
[15] Edwards, Johnny Cash and the Paradox of American Identity, p. 118.
[16] Ibid., p. 125.
[17] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 172.
[18] Edward W. Soja, Thirdspace, (Malden: Blackwell, 1996), p. 57.
[19] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 172.
[20] Johnny Cash, Peter LaFarge, ‘The Ballad of Ira Hayes’, Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash Sings Ballads of the American Indian, (Columbia Records, 1964).
[21] Cash, Cash: The Autobiography, p. 172.
[22] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 171.
[23] Ibid., p. 221.
[24] Tatiana Cirisano, ‘Johnny Cash’s Family Condemns White Supremacist: Read Cash’s 1964 Letter to Radio Stations’, Billboard, 18 August 2017.
[25] Cirisano, ‘Johnny Cash’s Family Condemns White Supremacist’, Billboard.
[26] D’Ambrosio, A Heartbeat and a Guitar, p. 237.
[27] Richard Wagamese, ‘Bringing Back the Living Room’, One Native Life (Vancouver, B.C.: Douglas and McIntyre, 2008), 184.
[28] Johnny Cash Peter La Farge, ‘Drums’, Bitter Tears: Johnny Cash sings the Ballads of the American Indian, (Columbia Records, 1964).
[29] Sony Music Entertainment, Johnny Cash, (2024), , [accessed 8 November 2024].
[30] Dustin Tahmahkera, ‘An Indian in a White Man’s Camp: Johnny Cash’s Indian Country Music’, American Quarterly, 63, 3 (2011).
