A recent Walk the Line-induced Johnny Cash bender has caused me to remember just how unbelievably awesome this CD is. At Folsom Prison is a little more famous, probably because of the resonance with "Folsom Prison Blues" (and, I suppose, for the reference to the show in Walk the Line), and it's certainly a great album; but to me, there's no question that San Quentin is way, way superior.

Recorded a year later, Live at San Quentin catches Cash still riding the wave of nervous energy that drives Folsom, but with a more polished stage presence—he sounds more at ease and in command here. While Folsom bogs down in the middle with a set of songs that really require a tolerant mood ("Dirty Old Egg-Suckin Dog"? "Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart"?), San Quentin is just a nonstop display of what it means for a performer to be "on." The title song, "San Quentin," rocks so hard that the inmates demand that Cash play it again, for God's sake. That's rocking. The last six songs, stretching from "Folsom Prison Blues" through a closing medley, are so on fire with boom-chicka rock that it's tough to believe that the crowd of inmates didn't spontaneously burst into flames from the awesomeness of it all.

One sad-but-true nugget of San Quentin's superiority lies in the guitar work. Luther Perkins, the original guitarist for the Tennessee Two, died after Folsom Prison was recorded; San Quentin marks the debut of his replacement, Bob Wooten. And while any Cash fan has to love Luther Perkins and his signature plucky sound, the truth is that he really didn't have a lot of guitar skills, and Wooten could play rings around him (it also helps that Luther's brother Carl, a much better guitarist and a pretty important early rocker in his own right, is also on hand to make some noise on San Quentin). Thus, many of San Quentin's songs feature guitar parts that are outrageously better than the original recorded version. Check out the solo in the middle of "Folsom Prison Blues"; Wooten's guitar sounds like it's made of lightning.

If you want to hear the Cadillac of live albums recorded in maximum-security prisons, look no further, my friend. It's right here in San Quentin.