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For thirty years as a musician, Rosanne Cash has enjoyed both critical and commercial success, releasing a series of albums that are as notable for their lyrical intelligence as for their musical excellence. In this memoir, Cash writes compellingly about her upbringing in Southern California as the child of country legend Johnny Cash, and of her relationships with her mother and her famous stepmother, June Carter Cash. In her account of her development as an artist she shares memories of recording her own first album on a German label; working her way to success; her Nashville marriage to Rodney Crowell; her relationship with the country music establishment; taking a new direction in her music and moving to New York; motherhood; dealing with the deaths of her parents, in part through music; the process of songwriting; and her fulfillment with her current husband and musical collaborator, John Leventhal.--From publisher description.… (more)
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Rosanne Cash’s father, of course, is none other than Johnny Cash, a man for whom the word “legend” is insufficient to describe his place in music history. Cash grew up in her father’s shadow, sensing early on that her achievements would be forever judged in comparison to his - a pressure-filled, no-win situation she wanted to avoid. She witnessed the performer lifestyle first hand and knew it to be harder work, and much less glamorous, than outsiders could ever imagine. She was certain she wanted no part of it. And, because she had always been good with words, even to believing that some day she would make her living as an author, Cash decided that songwriting offered her the best chance to work in the “family business” and still maintain the privacy she desired.
Rosanne Cash’s life has always been about music and journeys. As she puts it, “I have learned more from songs than I ever did from any teacher in school. They are interwoven and have flowed through the most important relationships in my life – with my parents, my husband, and my children…For me music has always involved journeys, both literal and metaphoric.” In "Composed: A Memoir," she shares some of those journeys with her readers.
Cash, the oldest of her father’s children, starts at the beginning, recalling what it was like to grow up in Southern California at a time her father’s road habits were destroying his marriage and her mother’s health. She discusses her attempts to distance herself from her father’s style of music, including the London sojourn during which she served as a gofer at a London record label for several months (a job arranged by her father). She beautifully recounts her journey toward becoming a recording star and successful songwriter, and how proud her father was of her success. Along the way, she revisits her marriage to Rodney Crowell, a marriage that filled her home with daughters, and describes her relationship with John Leventhal, the man to whom she has been married for the past fifteen years, the father of her only son.
Beyond a doubt, first and foremost, Rosanne Cash is a writer. Her prose is at its best when she describes the devastating series of deaths she and her family endured beginning in early 2003 and the unusual brain surgery she herself suffered in late 2007. On May 15, 2003, June Carter Cash died and John followed her on September 12. Just six weeks later, her stepsister Rosie would die of carbon monoxide poisoning, and in May 2005 she would lose her mother, Vivian, to lung cancer. Cash spoke at the funerals of her parents and June Carter Cash; "Composed" includes each of their eulogies.
Indeed, Rosanne Cash is good at words. I suspect her father would be very proud of his daughter’s story.
Rated at: 4.0
I'll admit I have been a fan of Cash's music for over thirty years, at least since "Seven-Year Ache." And her music - and songwriting skills - has just gotten better over the years. And now we have the stories behind so many of those songs and albums. And for fans of her famous father (and yeah, I'm one of those too), there is plenty here about her dad, and her not-famous mom, who, thankfully, did find happiness after that volatile divorce. Their daughter, who experienced a failed marriage herself, has learned to appreciate what her parents went through. She's got plenty to say about the price of fame, particularly in her father's case, but her own fame too. She feels empathy now for her parents, who dove "headlong into parenthood when they were barely out of adolescence, but devoted and hopeful ..."
I can't believe Rosanne Cash has been making music for over 35 years now. Where'd da time go, eh? And her dad's been gone for ten years already. I can still remember rocking and singing as kid to his very first pop hit, "Ballad of a Teenage Queen." And now his little girl is closing in on sixty.
Many of her revelations about her family and her life will make you want to weep. Being born into a famous family does not, of course, bring happiness, and Rosanne Cash has had plenty of bumps along the way - drugs, affairs, that failed marriage, some downturns in her musical career, brain surgery. But the parts that will choke you up are about the losses - a baby, her parents and many friends and extended family. She puts it succinctly: "Loss is the great unifier, the terrible club to which we all eventually belong." Her accounts of those losses will break your heart.
A dozen years or more ago I read Rosanne Cash's short story collection, BODIES OF WATER, a book which didn't make much of a splash, but I thought it excellent. Those writing skills are still working for her. I wonder if there might be a novel in her yet. I hope so. But for now, COMPOSED is a memoir that should stick around for a long time. The closing line give me hope: "More to come." I will recommend this book highly.
A few days ago I had lunch with a friend who saw the book cover and said, "Oh, she's one of us." And I think that's Cash's great achievement here -- she's a very simpatico character, familiar despite any privilege or pedigree to anyone who's worked hard to take charge of their creative spark and grow into some kind of accountability. It works as a biography not so much because of what she's done as because who she is -- there's an honesty and friendliness to this book that I liked. And I appreciated the care she took in finding that tone. I have no patience for the spoiled, and Cash manages to come across as honestly down-to-earth and pleasant. I don't need to feel like I could sit down to coffee with the subject of every memoir I read, but once in a while it's nice.
There are a few parts in here that are very good. Some subjects she will touch on deeply, and others get a soft touch. Pieces of the story seem to be missing, but overall there is a lot to see here as an artist tries to figure out who she is and where life takes her and her family. The latter part of the book dealing with the deaths of family, 9/11 and her own rather major health crises has some intensely personal things.
So what I'm saying is that I'm a big fan of both Johnny and his supremely talented daughter. For that reason, I was eager to read Rosanne's memoir, Composed. I knew from listening to her songs that she is an intelligent, thoughtful writer, perhaps not the stereotype most people have of a country singer-songwriter. In that sense, Composed did not disappoint. Cash is candid without being indiscreet; you won't read any dirt about her first husband, singer-songwriter Rodney Crowell, or get the nitty-gritty on the collapse of their marriage. But while she is respectful of other people's privacy, she does not hesitate to share her own actions and reactions. In particular, the chapter where she chronicles all of the losses she experienced over the course of a year — her mother, her stepsister, her stepmother June Carter Cash, and of course her father — is a harrowing portrait of grief.
It's not surprising that a writer like Rosanne Cash would write such an emotionally open memoir, but Composed is also a first-rate look at her musical career and the stories behind each of her albums, and some of her most well-known songs. The combination added up to a fascinating portrait of an artist throughout her life.
A great failing of the book is that Cash makes little attempt to draw portraits of the people who matter most to her. With the notable exception of her mother, who gets more attention in this book than anyone except for Cash herself, most people are mentioned only in passing: her two husbands, her mentors, bandmates and producers, and even her children, whom she does lavish a couple of pages on in the tones of a proud parent in a college admissions meeting. There are several amusing anecdotes and moving hospital scenes involving her famous father, whom she obviously loved deeply, but we don't get a fuller picture of the man than we could get from a competent 60-minute TV documentary. When she's had conflict in her life, she mentions it without explaining it and moves quickly on.
She tells us that she's never enjoyed life as a public figure, so it's understandable that she would draw a veil of privacy over her family and friends, but reticence is the death of reminiscence. Her reluctance to speak much of things outside her own interior life also tends to make her sound self-involved, which may be far from the case. For this reason, I was greatly frustrated by the first half of the book. In the second half, we learn of some life events that would shake any of us to our foundations, and I gained new respect for her. So I recommend this book to any fan of hers, and (with reservations) to fans of musician memoirs. But I can't recommend it to people who want a new perspective on Johnny Cash, to those who want to learn about how great songs get made, or to those who want the feeling of being present at the events of an interesting life. Reading this book is like attending a speech. You go because you admire the speaker, you listen attentively, and you're rewarded with some interesting stories. But the illusion of intimacy, so vital to a memoir, is never there, and you go home not much wiser than you were before.
I'm a faithful listener of this podcast. Frankly, I could listen to John Huey, Former editor-in-chief, Time Inc., read the back of a shampoo bottle. I love his voice. But more importantly, I love the questions he asks of guests with a way of opening a dialogue that makes you realize you never thought of something that way before.
I follow Rosanne on Twitter. I've read her New York Times opinion piece and am totally in agreement with her dislike of Trump. Is hatred of him too strong a word? I don't think so. I also read the two articles in Rolling Stone magazine about the use of her dad's name on a tee shirt worn by a Neo-Nazi and a white nationalist radio show. I applaud her for standing up for that nonsense.
There was some of the book that I didn't really know a lot about what she was talking about in regards to the music industry such as mixing music, being in the studio, etc. But that didn't matter much. I enjoyed reading about her life in trying to be independent of the large effect her father's life and influence had on her.
But, If I'm honest I'll tell you that I never really listened to that much of Roseanne's music. Oh, I remember her hits from the 80s and 90s and liked them and have them downloaded to my iPhone but I'm talking about her other music. The music she writes about that changed her life in her book. That's the music I haven't heard. Those are the lyrics that haven't spoken to me as they spoken to her. But now, after reading her memoir, I want to listen. I want to hear the words that made her write so eloquently in her book that moved me to tears. Words that hit me in my heart such as the ones quoted below. Words that I could have sworn I wrote myself.
"It was never too late to undo who you had become."
"I have taken every sorrow in my life to the ocean - the deaths of my parents, my grandparent, my aunts and uncles, friends who died untimely deaths, my stepsister Rosey, and my best friend from eighth grade, the baby that never came to term, the broken relationships, divorce, the terror of the addictions of those I love - I have taken all of it to the sea. I have performed many rituals of release while immersed in salt water or walking on the shore. The ocean, for me, is what those in a twelve-step programs call a Higher Power."
"We all need art and music like we need blood and oxygen. The more exploitative, numbing, and assaulting popular culture become, the more we need the truth of a beautifully phrased song, dredged from a real person's depth of experience, delivered in an honest voice, the more we need the simplicity of paint on canvas, or the arc of a lonely body in the air, or the photographer's unflinching eye. Art, in the larger sense, is the lifeline to which I cling to in a confusing, unfair, sometimes dehumanizing world. In my childhood, the nuns and priests insisted, sometimes in a shrill and punitive tone, that religion was where God resided and where I might find transcendence. I was afraid that they were correct for so many years, and that I was the one at fault for not being able to navigate the circuitry of dogma and ritual. For me, it turned out to be a decoy, a mirage framed in sound and fury. Art and music have proven to be more expansive, more forgiving, and more immediately alive. For me, art is a more trust-worthy expression of God than religion."