The brassy sound of the studio band cuts off, the lights go down, a spotlight flicks on, picks up the broad back of a big man wearing a black frock coat, striped pants, patent-leather boots and a six-string guitar. The figure swivels around and drawls, "HelloI'm Johnny Cash." At that, the 3,006 people who have been smothering their enthusiasm back in the cavernous depths of the Grand Old Opry House break loose like a thunderstorm on a hot July day. For like the man saidit's Johnny Cash.
No Flashy Stuff. After 15 years...
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