Some albums should be listened to in the dark at about 3 a.m., no lights on, with nothing to come between the listener, the sound and the unconscious.

Johnny Cash, a true legend of American music who is in no need of any further legacy-building, has made just such a record. Dark, brooding and filled with a righteous foreboding that hangs over the proceedings like the Angel of Death, American IV: The Man Comes Around sends our hero into the darkest regions of the soul with surprisingly little hope of redemption.

The Man in Black rumbles through 15 songs that delve deep into the spiritual and existential gloom, torturing any traveler whose psychic constitution isn’t as sturdy as absolutely possible. The title track, a Cash original which opens the album, sets the flames burning. “The Man Comes Around” presents God as a western hero, come back to town to take stock of his universe.

Cash, the greatest country gangsta of them all, layers his tale with references to the book of Revelations and poetic imagery. It’s an intense warning, sung with fervor from the aging warrior.

Next is “Hurt,” a Nine Inch Nails cover that drags through the murk with the resigned exhaustion of spirit that Cash has become a master of demonstrating. “What have I become, my sweetest friend? / Everything I know goes away in the end,” Cash laments with the pain of 70 years. Death and destruction hang heavy over the record.

Sometimes, as in “Give My Love To Rose,” — a newly recorded version of a song Cash made famous in his original 1960s heyday — the death is of our hero. Then there’s “I Hung My Head,” an amazingly soulful Sting cover that examines the sadness of a man who has unwittingly committed murder. Cash’s voice, which is surprisingly strong, hammers each lyric with nuance and power.

Even God is a badass; apart from the title track, Cash (with guitar help from Red Hot Chili Pepper John Frusciante) lays into Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” with absolutely no irony or cynicism. Only twice does he offer us any promise of a higher ground.

First and best is “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” a song that has never (except for Aretha Franklin’s classic version) been performed with such rock-solid grace. Second, the World War II standard “We’ll Meet Again” that closes the album is Cash waving goodbye, promising to see us on whatever other side we may reach next.

Cash has been ill, and his illness has clearly been affecting his work — his moving cover of The Beatles’ “In My Life” is evidence of that — but there is nothing on The Man Comes Around to suggest that he’s anywhere near done.

As with his previous three “American Recordings” albums, all of which were produced by Def Jam pioneer Rick Rubin, the instrumentation is spare and effective. On The Man Comes Around, Cash is surrounded by a gently ominous mixture of guitar and organ with drums appearing only once, on the comparatively joyous Cash original “Tear Stained Letter,” in which the pain goes only as deep as failed love.

Even when the material gets dangerously close to schmaltz, like “Danny Boy” or “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” Cash’s performance finds the dignity within the song without allowing its sentimentality to overtake him. Only once, an odd duet with Don Henley on The Eagles’ “Desperado,” does Cash find the material to be too far beneath him for even his great presence to rescue.

This failure is not the fault of Henley’s presence, oddly enough. In fact, the album contains two other duets that work far better: Fiona Apple joins on “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” and Nick Cave, who wrote one of the absolute highlights of Cash’s previous album, a death-penalty plea called “The Mercy Seat,” adds suitably weird pathos to Hank Williams’ classic “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.”

Don’t come to The Man Comes Around looking for answers. Don’t enter into the house of Johnny Cash, one of our great emissaries of holy hell, and expect to find comfort or easy affirmation.

He has always understood and has attempted to show us that we all must face the shadow; we all risk falling from grace. All that Mr. Cash promises us, as he has done for almost a half-century, is that he’ll be standing beside us, ready to fight alongside us until The Man comes around. The apocalypse is now. Darkness falls.