Style Box modern folk-rock country fusion, clean 80s fiddle, tight 3-part harmony, breathy indie tenor, polished studio mix, punchy acoustic rhythm, stadium country Lyrics Box [Style: polished acoustic rhythm, crisp Nashville drum kit, clean bass guitar, tight mandolin chop, rapid speech-singing, pristine vocal stack] [Intro: intimate breathy folk lead, vocal fry, rubato] Out past the county line where the black dirt turns to dust Where the tractor tires are swallowed by the rust We were measuring our ages by the shifting of the green Somewhere caught between the soil and a teenage dream [Verse 1: clean acoustic groove, tight upright bass, rapid staccato speech-singing, low tension] They always told us it was knee-high by the Fourth of July if the rain came down right on the Illinois plains I was running through the short rows trying to beat my brother to the edge of the property line before it started to rain Just a couple of kids with our knees stained green in the heavy summer humidity choking the air With the [3-part harmony] radio playing [lead] something soft from a station we couldn't quite catch but we didn't really care Yeah the stalks were only at our waists and we could still see the house across the way Just burning daylight in the middle of a heavy Midwestern day [Pre-Chorus: driving acoustic strumming, soaring clean fiddle, rolling snare drum build, rising pharyngeal tension] Now the roots grow deep and the temperature climbs And we're running right out of that easy summer time The banjo keeps rolling out a golden thread Waking up the dust in the tractor shed [Silence: 1 beat] [Big Chorus: stadium country drums, heavy acoustic strumming, wide electric bass, explosive folk belt, pristine 3-part Alabama harmony stack] So let the fiddle cut through the heavy summer heat! We got the Illinois dirt underneath our bare feet! When the green stalks rise and they block out the skies We’re chasing down the sun with the dust in our eyes! [Verse 2: clean acoustic groove, tight banjo, bass returns to pocket, conversational speech-singing, glottal fry] By the middle of August it was eight feet tall and closing in around us like a fortress of gold We were hiding in the maze that it made just trying to pause the clock before we got too old Then September crept in and the air turned crisp and the green started fading to a papery brown And the combines fired up their engines in the dark just to [3-part harmony] tear it all down [lead] to the frozen ground Yeah the fields got cleared and the sky opened up and the wind started cutting like a knife Just another autumn passing in the middle of a Midwestern life [Breakdown: half-time, drum out, isolated 3-part harmony, fragile breathy exhale, soft sigh] Cut it down, cut it down, let the winter wind blow Cut it down, cut it down, underneath the early snow Cut it down, cut it down, watch the seasons turn around Cut it down, cut it down, to the frozen ground [Build: driving acoustic rhythm returns, accelerating floor tom, soaring tight 3-part harmony stack] Wait for the spring to come around! [Drop Fill: huge organic drum fill, single raspy vocal scream] [Big Chorus: stadium country drums, heavy acoustic strumming, wide electric bass, cathartic distortion, max stereo width on the harmony] So let the fiddle cut through the heavy summer heat! We got the Illinois dirt underneath our bare feet! When the green stalks rise and they block out the skies We’re chasing down the sun with the dust in our eyes! [Outro: elements decay, polished acoustic guitar fade, clean banjo roll, intimate breathy exhale, natural room decay] Knee-high by the Fourth of July. Knee-high by the Fourth of July. [End]
