Phonogram Copyright 2004 Capitol Records, Inc.
Lyrics by Rosanne Cash and Music by John Leventhal
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This song is an enigma. This song is a dirge. This song is wonderful.
Just which town is it that Rosanne want to burn down? Or is it really one house in particular that she burns to see burning? The "bedroom door" and the "mirrored hall" indicate that somehow it's the latter.
If it's really a town, is the town Hendersonville? I know the feeling. I've lived in small towns and don't the tongues wag about anything and everything. And famous people are just so "interesting" dontcha know. After all, "inquiring people want to know" anything and everything.
Or is the town Nashville? It is common knowledge that J.R. was "fed up" with the place. But a "change of venue" turned out to be the best thing for him -- musically and spiritually.
I've watched those videos in those Sunset Strip clubs. It was apparent that he had a case of the butterflies, but once he started chuggin', he tore it, and them, up. He found an audience that he seemed not to know he had.
What ever it, that particular town is, I like the song, and the images Rosanne conjurs. And I especially like her vocal, the phrasing, the way she draws out the words "steel" and "feel" are like a sob -- as are the "smoke and sobs."
So many questions though. Just why is the sky falling with "the ash and mud"? And what is this thing about some man having to "finish the job" in order to retain his manhood? I know, I know, it's probably very personal. But then, inquiring minds want to know.
The hills are burnin' fields turn to steel.
The big house is haunted with what we don't feel.
All the streets are empty no one ever comes around.
And so you know they won't make a sound burn down this town.
My lungs are blackened with smoke and sobs.
So just be a man and finish the job.
And I'll watch you from this distant place I've found.
And now you know I won't make a sound burn down this town.
The clapboard jail and the co-op board the garden club and the bedroom door.
Sprinkled lawn and the mirrored hall the Christmas tree just burn it all.
The sky is falling with the ash and mud.
We gotta make a promise yeah blood to blood.
So shut the door and then slowly turn around.
And now you know you can't make a sound burn down this town.
The clapboard jail and the co-op board the garden club and the bedroom door.
Sprinkled lawn and the mirrored hall the Christmas tree just burn it all.
Burn down this town. Burn down this town.
Rosanne Cash -- vocals
John Leventhal -- background vocals, guitars, keyboards, percussion
Catherine Russell -- harmony vocals
Benmont Tench -- organ
Kevin Breit -- guitar
Michael Rhodes -- bass
Shawn Pelton -- drums
