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From the liner notes:
Twelve long miserable years have passed since I was introduced to Johnny Cash.
Then and there I decided that this long-legged, hungry-looking vacuum-cleaner salesman would be better off selling eggs than selling records
He couldn’t tune or even play his worn out, busted, German guitar- -but along with guitarist Luther Perkins (no relative of mine, thank God!) and bass player Marshall Grant, a couple of self-made mechanics, he cut his first horrible record.
Then you, you unsuspecting record buyers outran motorcycles, even roadrunners, to get to record shops to lay down those mangy dollars for it. And you ain’t stopped running yet!!! That’s what makes me sick. I hope you’re satisfied now that you’ve made John Cash the biggest damn thing in Country music.
And then!!- -Poor little Miss June Carter, a sweet lady who, after many weeks of watching Cash go on stage wearing streaked, spotted, striped and wrinkled shirts and baggy pants, persuaded him to buy himself a suit with the coat and pants the same color. Recently she personally bought him three suits with matching coat and pants.
The Tennessee Three and myself insisted that she send him the bill for them.
June is affectionately known as “Brindl,” and poor little Brindl has had a tough time these last few years. She has fought a battle to tame a man with a wild streak–trying and succeeding most times in eliminating the streak.
She has used horrible tactics for doing this, such as cooking ham on a shaky stove while enroute to High Point, N.C., in a beat-up Dodge Motor Home, pressing suits, haircuts, hot biscuits and all. Pickin’ up and singing when she got the notion was too much for John and the babies (W. S. Marshall, Luther and me), so old John joined in to protect his ears. The duet didn’t come out near so badly as we thought it would. They sang an old song called Jackson, then there was the Long-legged Guitar Pickin’ Man– and finally this album.
Now they’re singing together, and though we tried to drown them out, the Tennessee Three and myself, I suppose, damn it, you’ll hear them CARRYIN’ ON in this album.
– Carl Perkins