Kris Kristofferson & Johnny Cash – Sunday morning coming down

Introduction:

Emerging from the introspective singer-songwriter movement of the late 1960s, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” stands as a poignant and unflinching portrait of despair. Written by the legendary Kris Kristofferson, the song found its initial commercial success in the hands of another country music giant, Johnny Cash. Released in 1970, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” became a signature tune for Cash, perfectly embodying the themes of addiction, isolation, and yearning for redemption that resonated deeply with his audience.

Kristofferson, a Rhodes Scholar turned aspiring musician, poured his own struggles into the lyrics of “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” The song’s raw honesty resonated with other artists, and Ray Stevens released his version in 1969, though it achieved only moderate success. However, when Johnny Cash picked up the song, his characteristically deep baritone and stark delivery elevated it to a new level. Cash’s own battles with addiction added a layer of authenticity that resonated with listeners.

Produced by Bob Johnston for Cash’s concept album of the same name, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” became the record’s title track and its most commercially successful song. The album itself, a collection of introspective and often dark-themed songs, wasn’t a major critical darling, but it resonated with Cash’s core fanbase. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” transcended the album, however, becoming a staple of Cash’s live performances and a cornerstone of his legacy.

The song’s power lies in its unflinching portrayal of a man grappling with the aftermath of a night of heavy drinking. The lyrics paint a picture of a desolate Sunday morning, a time stretched out with agonizing slowness when the world seems to stand still. The imagery is vivid, from the “cracked ceiling” and “walls of dust” to the “empty coffee cup” and the “stale cigar smoke risin’.” The emotional landscape is equally stark, filled with a sense of loneliness, regret, and a desperate longing for something better.

“Sunday Morning Coming Down” became an anthem for those struggling with addiction and isolation. Its enduring popularity is a testament to the song’s ability to capture the universality of human experience, particularly the yearning for connection and a way out of darkness. While not explicitly stated in the song, the hope for redemption flickers in the lines about the approaching sunrise, a potential symbol of a new beginning. Although the song doesn’t offer easy answers, it provides a powerful and relatable portrait of the human condition, making “Sunday Morning Coming Down” a lasting contribution to the world of country music.

Video:

Lyrics:

Well, I woke up Sunday mornin’
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin’ with a can that he was kickin’
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone’s fryin’ chicken
And Lord, it took me back to somethin’ that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way

On a Sunday mornin’ sidewalk
I’m wishin’, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s somethin’ in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short a’ dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin’ little girl that he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singin’
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearin’ dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday mornin’ sidewalk
I’m wishin’, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s somethin’ in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short a’ dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down