[Spoken — easy, conversational; faint radio static, tuning across an AM dial; 12-string guitar being handled in the background] Growing up on the East Coast of Canada, there was always a radio playing somewhere. And I mean always. Morning, supper, middle of the night... didn't much matter. Country music was just part of the house. And our country stations had a pretty broad idea of what "country" meant. You might hear Johnny Cash or Willie Nelson... and then Harry Hibbs or Dick Nolan. Hank Snow, John Denver, Roger Miller... Barry White—the Newfoundlander, not the other guy. [chuckles] And nobody thought there was anything unusual about that. Years later, I started listening harder. Keltic music, Appalachian music, bluegrass, old country... and I began hearing the family resemblance. Turns out I'd been hearing that conversation all my life. I just didn't know the names for it yet. This is "Before I Knew It Was the Same Song." [brief pause] [12-STRING ACOUSTIC — LOW E DRONE BEGINS] [Verse 1] We had a radio that never seemed to stop, Country through the house from the bottom to the top. I was the youngest one hanging around, So I made my friends with whatever I found. Hank Snow on the airwaves, Cash keeping time, Harry Hibbs could follow on the very next line. Willie, Dick Nolan, Roger and me— We had our own kind of company. [Verse 2] I'd spend all day with that radio on, John Denver singing till the daylight was gone. Didn't need knowing where it all came from, Just twelve strings ringing and a five-string drum. And when those East Coast fiddles cut through, A clawhammer mandolin answered them too— Old tunes rolling out over the air, Blueridge and Newfoundland both living there. [Chorus] Before I knew it was connected, I knew how the music could feel. Celtic in the kitchen, Johnny Cash upon the dial. Twelve strings droning under, A banjo keeping time— Before I knew they shared a road, They both sounded like mine. [Verse 3] Years later on I heard Appalachia, Old mountain songs that I somehow knew. Different hills and different generations, But something in them sounded East Coast too. I'd stop what I was doing just to listen As those old familiar changes wandered through. Different words and different ways to play them— Same old roots were showing through. [Chorus] Before I knew it was connected, I knew how the music could feel. Celtic in the kitchen, Johnny Cash upon the dial. Twelve strings droning under, A banjo keeping time— Before I knew they shared a road, They both sounded like mine. [Bridge] Years went by before I understood Why certain sounds still pull me home. Why a droning string beneath a melody Can make an ancient tune my own. And every day I'm learning something I somehow missed the day before— The more I learn about the music, The more I hear there still is more. [INSTRUMENTAL TURN — 12-STRING HOLDS LOW E DRONE] [CLAWHAMMER MANDOLIN ENTERS] [FIVE-STRING BANJO ANSWERS — SPARSE, INTERLOCKING] [SOFT FIDDLE JOINS ONLY FOR FINAL 4 BARS] [Final Chorus] Before I knew it was connected, I knew how the music could feel. Hank Snow beside Harry Hibbs, With Johnny Cash upon the dial. The whole wide world was singing Through that radio all the time— Before I ever knew the roots, I'd heard them intertwine. [Outro] So if you ask me where my music comes from, It ain't a single road that brought me home. Blueridge mixed with Newfoundland, And old songs carried over stone. The twelve-string keeps on ringing. The old five-string rolls through. And every time I learn another song, I hear one I already knew. [12-STRING — LOW E DRONE CONTINUES] [MANDOLIN AND BANJO TRADE TWO-BAR PHRASES] [FINAL HARMONIC OVER LOW E]
