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Up, Down The Country
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This is a Rocky Country number with plenty of changes and some great musical bits!
rock songwriter beatles bob dylan little feat retro rolling stones alt country liverpool the band tom clarke mojave collective mark pountney markdelaney original band mayfield re
We have an Alt-Country sound because of the guitar work and the harmonies we use. The songs are commercial and catchy enough also to be described as Pop/Rock. W
Packing 21 grams of Parsons and a dusting of the Flying Burrito Brothers, Pountney, Clarke, Simpson & Philips come strolling into town like the Fabulous Furry Funk Brothers to preach the holy gospel of country, rock and acoustic beauty. The Mojave Collective, four young men from the Deep South (of Liverpool), play American roots music with a British Pop sensibility and a haphazard sense of style which has seen them hailed as 'crap' (Woman's Own), 'indifferent' (Auto-Trader) and 'pretty damn good actually' (NME).
Song Info
Genre
Country • Alternative Country
Charts
Peak #47
Peak in subgenre #12
Author
Mark Pountney
Rights
2003 M.Pountney
Uploaded
July 20, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
This one's about being hassled and an fun/unrealistic move to a simpler life away from naggin' girlfriends and the pressure of trying to get "discovered".
Lyrics
Up Down the country The talking's over I can say no more, I no longer want to play this game I’m going out to the sticks to count my chips, and grow my hair just like a lion’s mane I’m going up down to the country, forget about this fortune and fame I’m going up down were the city lights fade and I no longer feel the pain I had a woman that kept talking to me about how I always brought the shame If I go she won’t have to lean on me and I won’t have nobody to blame I’m going up down to the country, forget about this fortune and fame I’m going up down were the city lights fade and I no longer feel the pain. All the things well you said to my were burning like coals on the fire. And any road well I'll be gone tomorrow from that cold taxi morning to that midnight train. I found a dog and it seems to like me, well he’s crazy and he won’t sit still Bit he likes fine wine and the sun always shines We drink until we make ourselves ill. We’re going up down to the country, forget about this fortune and fame We’re going up down were the city lights fade and I no longer feel the pain October 2003
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