About halfway through "A Boy Named Sue," our second time playing it for a crowded house last night (this time at Burt's Tiki Lounge), I let out something between a "yeehaw" and a "woohoo" into the mic. We were playing an encore of sorts to our first, and longer, set at the Atomic Cantina earlier in the night. A little bit of relief came out with that scream. Not because it was over (we still had a couple of songs to play), but because we were there. This was Johnny Cash Tribute night. And Old Beans lives for this shit.

The Johnny Cash Tribute nights began a couple of years ago on September 11th, 2004. About one year after the Man in Black died. My band, Old Beans, was one of six or so bands that played at the first tribute. We are one of only a couple of bands (another, Sin Serenade, is lead by a man named Lucky who organizes the event each year) that have played all three years. This year the event expanded to two bars (they reside next door to each other, and both hold a little over a hundred people a piece) and twice the bands.

I'll speculate that the movie, Walk The Line, has something to do with the overwhelming support for this night in Albuquerque. But, having said that, the Atomic was packed with lines out the door last year (before the movie came out). And, this year, both bars were full with lines. Near the end of the night, one guy said, "Everyone loves Johnny Cash. Some people say 'Fuck Elvis,' but no one says, 'Fuck Johnny Cash.'" So the movie may have helped, but I'd like to think the music has something to do with it, too.

Old Beans has played nine different Johnny Cash songs over the years. We worked up a smoking seven song set for last night's show. A mix of songs we've covered for a few years, as well as new ones learned just for this show. We played "Folsom Prison Blues," "Don't Take Your Guns To Town," "Delia's Gone, "A Boy Named Sue," "Tennessee Stud," "Cry, Cry, Cry" and "The Man Comes Around."

I got out from behind the drums to sing a duet on "Tennessee Stud" and backup on "Delia's Gone." I usually don't see the crowd from this perspective. Looking across the room while singing and seeing a hundred heads in silhouette was wild. We never play to this many people--and I hardly ever leave the drum throne to sing.

But that first set was not my last. I was also sitting in on drums for another Albuquerque band, Feels Like Sunday. After Old Bean's set at Atomic, I hauled my cymbals and stick bag over to Burt's (with so many bands, there was a backline for both shows: this means there were drums and amps set up for all the bands to play). I'd rehearsed three songs ("I've Been Everywhere," "Sunday Morning Coming Down" and "God's Gonna Cut You Down") with them on Friday night. When I was getting a drink at Burt's, I overheard a guy tell his friend he'd just heard a band at Atomic do a ripping version of "Boy Named Sue." I was completely buzzing (the non-alcoholic kind), but didn't even get all the sweat dried off from the Old Beans set before I was generating more.

Ten minutes onstage at Burt's with Feels Like Sunday, and I was throwing my stuff in bags to go back to Atomic and rest with a beer. But within seconds of getting inside next door, Lucky nudged me and asked if we (Old Beans) wanted to play another short set at Burt's because they needed to fill up more time. It was almost midnight, and I was about to play my third set in less than an hour and a half. I rounded up my band (who had, in my absence, downed a few more drinks), and we headed back to Burt's.

A quick set up and we were raging again, this time for an almost completely different audience (although there were a few repeaters). We tore through "Boy Named Sue," "Delia's Gone" and "The Man Comes Around." "Sue" energized the audience, we got them to sing along to "Delia," and, at exactly the same point in "Man" as the first time, the crash cymbal stand collapsed.

By the end of my third set of the night, I was completely sober (even though I'd had three beers and a whiskey). It was time for more beer and to turn into an audience member again. I was ready to come down a bit.

Hundreds of people saw Old Beans rock Johnny Cash last night. We never play for this many people and were the only band to play both bars. As we drove back to our rehearsal space to drop off gear, girls in an SUV driving next to us screamed they loved our set.

Not that it's really about us. It's about Johnny Cash and his music, which is why we've been doing this for the last three years. And why, hopefully, we'll do it for many more.

Matt Worley loves holidays that celebrate a life much more than those that only remember the death.