TrailerParkLife by Independent Country

ON INDEPENDENT COUNTRY

There are covers bands who do not imitate,
Who cannot imitate
But then there are covers bands who emulate
At times, to expand further the sticky floor
Of a long-lost Indie disco

Knowing that to imitate the Britpop
Is mockney
And to imitate the Baggy
Is pointless.
These boys are those.

From under a Birmingham Skyline
Whole, a gang,- drawn from Country sources
Of Glen, or Patsy. Through Johnny himself.
As mountains, alike, alike, alike,
Yet unalike.

Each song here is complete and contained
And as each unalike star shines
The original swagger, or surly fringe, is banished
To leave way for a new ray.
And their words, works and songs
Like strong, quick flashes, are light-fingered.
So where are your reference points
To match the originals with their inspirations?

These boys can match the tick of times long gone,
That edge of teenage pain, with the wealth of age
And the tunes of men and women
From a land removed, from The Opry stage.
With the skills of the magpie, at the speed of light.

I'm proud to say that I know it:
Here-in is a hell of a band.
And lots of other things
And lots of other things.
-- Robson Da Silva.

6 cowboys from Birmingham (UK) who take Indie classics on a rollickin’ ride to Nashville and back. Floppy fringes and baggy jeans are
swapped for pedal steel guitars and four-part harmonies as the NME meets The Grand Ole Opry.