Sound Like Myself

Modern grunge country anthem for a female lead: drop-D fuzz guitars, melodic distorted bass, baritone twang guitar, acoustic strums, subtle banjo texture, and mournful pedal steel woven into a raw alternative-rock foundation, Mid-tempo heavy 4/4 with quiet-loud dynamics, intimate diary-like verses, pressure-building pre-choruses, explosive singalong choruses, stripped acoustic bridge, stomp-clap breakdown, Vocalist: young gritty female alto/mezzo, cracked intimate verses, raspy belted choruses, slight country edge without exaggerated twang, emotional and defiant, Production: analog warmth, tape saturation, punchy drums, thick bass/kick separation, wide guitars, clear steel accents, Master: polished, balanced, radio-ready; clear lows/mids/highs; tight centered sub-bass; warm open mids with 200–400 Hz controlled; smooth airy highs; centered crisp vocals with subtle compression, saturation, short plate/slapback; transparent glue; wide

I don’t need to be fixed,
I just need to turn up the volume.

Rain on the blacktop, mascara in my sleeve,
Friday night buzzing through a cracked phone screen.
Boots on the curb where the dandelions lie
Everybody watching but they don't know why

Mama says, “Smile, baby, don’t make a scene,”
But my heart’s like gravel in a washing machine.
Church bell ringing and the sky’s gone bad,
I bite my tongue till it makes him mad.

And I tried to be sweet,
Tried to be small,
Tried to be pretty on command.
But there’s a cheap little speaker in the back of my ribs
Saying, make them understand

I just wanna sound like myself,
With the whole world screaming through somebody else.
Wild hair, ripped jeans,
Heart off the shelf
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

I don’t wanna shine through a screen,
I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen.
If I’m cracked, let it ring,
When I’m raw, give em hell
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

Dillon's old truck’s got a blown-out speaker,
But it tells the truth when the bass line kicks.
I wrote my name on the fogged-up mirror,
Then crossed out the girl they labeled me with.

Small town mouths make a thunderstorm easy,
Whisper my business at the Dairy Queen.
I walk in laughing with my jacket half-zipped,
Red dirt angel with a blacktop dream.

And I tried to be good,
Tried to be gold,
Tried to be less of a spark.
But there’s a dog-eared dream with its teeth still sharp
Barking loud in the dark

I just wanna sound like myself,
With the whole world screaming through somebody else.
Wild hair, ripped jeans,
Heart off the shelf
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

I don’t wanna shine through a screen,
I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen.
If I’m cracked, let it ring,
When I’m raw, give em hell
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

Say it with the lights out.
Say it with your chest.
Say it like the feedback
Knows your address.

I just wanna sound like myself,
With the whole world screaming through somebody else.
Wild hair, ripped jeans,
Heart off the shelf
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

I don’t wanna shine through a screen,
I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen.
If I’m cracked, let it ring,
When I’m raw, give em hell
TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

2225/7500

I don’t need to be fixed, I just need to turn up the volume. Rain on the blacktop, mascara in my sleeve, Friday night buzzing through a cracked phone screen. Boots on the curb where the dandelions lie Everybody watching but they don't know why Mama says, “Smile, baby, don’t make a scene,” But my heart’s like gravel in a washing machine. Church bell ringing and the sky’s gone bad, I bite my tongue till it makes him mad. And I tried to be sweet, Tried to be small, Tried to be pretty on command. But there’s a cheap little speaker in the back of my ribs Saying, make them understand I just wanna sound like myself, With the whole world screaming through somebody else. Wild hair, ripped jeans, Heart off the shelf TURN ME UP till I sound like myself. I don’t wanna shine through a screen, I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen. If I’m cracked, let it ring, When I’m raw, give em hell TURN ME UP till I sound like myself. Dillon's old truck’s got a blown-out speaker, But it tells the truth when the bass line kicks. I wrote my name on the fogged-up mirror, Then crossed out the girl they labeled me with. Small town mouths make a thunderstorm easy, Whisper my business at the Dairy Queen. I walk in laughing with my jacket half-zipped, Red dirt angel with a blacktop dream. And I tried to be good, Tried to be gold, Tried to be less of a spark. But there’s a dog-eared dream with its teeth still sharp Barking loud in the dark I just wanna sound like myself, With the whole world screaming through somebody else. Wild hair, ripped jeans, Heart off the shelf TURN ME UP till I sound like myself. I don’t wanna shine through a screen, I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen. If I’m cracked, let it ring, When I’m raw, give em hell TURN ME UP till I sound like myself. Say it with the lights out. Say it with your chest. Say it like the feedback Knows your address. I just wanna sound like myself, With the whole world screaming through somebody else. Wild hair, ripped jeans, Heart off the shelf TURN ME UP till I sound like myself. I don’t wanna shine through a screen, I wanna burn like a bonfire at seventeen. If I’m cracked, let it ring, When I’m raw, give em hell TURN ME UP till I sound like myself.

0/500