Backroads is made possible by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund with money by the vote of the people, November 4, 2008.

Down where the water flows and the green grass grows, Gonna ride me some rail, cause there's money in the mail, where the water flows and the green grass grows.

Where the mad dogs wail, while they're wagging their tails, to some sweet walking tunes under a big full moon, You see them wagging their tails, cause there's money in the mail.

Make a little money, make a little money, make a little money, make a little money for me.

Oh, baby can't you see where the green grass grows, That's where the money flows, where the big wheels turn, thats where the profits earned.

Where Make a little money, make a little money, make a little money, make a little money for me.

Oh baby, can't you see?

Instrumental......

Build a house on a hill above the factories and the mills above the smoke and the stink.

We'll be livin like kings, Make a lotta money, make a lotta money, make a lotta money make a lotta money for me, Oh, Baby, can't you see?

That's where the money flows, down where the hornstone grows, And the brown dirt blows, That's where the money snows.

Ohhh Watch the big wheels turn, hear the engines churn, you'll be workin on the rails, while they're belching up tails.

Smell the fires burn, while the engines churn.

My name's Aaron Kerr and I play bass guitar, and I also play cello in our band.

I'm Jeff Crandall, lead singer, I play acoustic guitar in the band and sometimes piano or keys.

We have Mike Nordby, he plays percussion, mandolin.

Tyson Allison, Tyson plays guitar and banjo, melodica, some percussion back and forth.

Brett Hansen, lead guitar and backing vocals, and Jackson Kerr, drums.

That's Aaron's son, my son is our drummer, yeah, and we are The Swallows.

No Drinkin' Blues.

No no worries, No no worries anymore.

no no worries, no no worries, no no worries anymore.

Gonna find those worries, and kick'em out the door.

Gonna tell of sorrow, tell of sorrow, can't come round no more.

Gonna leave ol' sorrow.

on the road to evermore.

Gonna lift my head up, Lift my head up, find the strength to ask for more.

gonna lift my head up, lift my head up, tell my soul to get on board.

I'm gonna walk that long road that I've been looking for no no worries, no no worries anymore.

gonna find those worries and pin them to the floor.

gonna drown those worries so they don't come round no more.

So we used to be a band called "Thin Land' back in the early 2000's, and we had a significant turnover and renamed ourselves; we thought it was time to rename the band and we kind of went a little different direction, and we became more "rootsy" a little bit, I guess, more blues/rock oriented and "rootsy americana" kind of stuff.

We've had quite a few people over the years, but the group that we have now has been the most consistent that we've had for the longest period of time and we've done a lot of shows.

Jack, climb back in the hull, Stow the sails and oars, Battened down, watertight, unsinkable boat.

Watch the pitch and roll, turn the rudder slow, throw the drogues, Anchor down, Unsinkable boat.

Tell em all night in, we'll ride this out a hull, Morning comes, chart our course, Unsinkable boat.

Live another day, despite the wind and rain, Change our tack, Sail on, Unsinkable boat.

This watch is getting long, Oh I'm seeing faces in the waves, Counting bodies in the stars.

Slow moving, slow motion, slow moving tide, Still water, deep water, bone chilling dive.

Jack, this header's moving slow, full and by we go, Turn the sails to the wind, Unsinkable boat.

Let it go and haul, A westward lift is blowin', Pass the pipe, Down the grog, Let's ride it on home.

This watch is getting long, Oh, I'm seeing faces in the waves, Counting bodies in the stars.

Oh Yeah.

Slow moving, slow motion, slow moving tide, still water, deep water, bone chilling dive., Time killing, Time killing, Sail the ocean blue.

Time killing, time killing, Under the new moon.

Time killing, Time killing, Sail the ocean blue.

Time killing, Time killing, under the new moon.

Jack, polish all the brass, swab the decks and brig, cut the rigs, tie the ropes, Unsinkable boat.

Grab the holy stone, scrub down to the bone, Man the yards, watertight, Unsinkable boat.

Lock the wheelhouse door, let's get this vessel moored, clean the grave, Hauk and spit, Unsinkable boat.

Climb back in the hull, Stow the sails and oars.

Battened down, Watertight.

Unsinkable boat.

I don't know if I'm fine, I'm still waiting for a sign, in the valleys of my mind, where I wander all the time.

I'm preparing for the frost, but I wonder at what cost, between me and you, I wonder.

Wonder if it's time killing time Always you, but I am not the blind leading blind, always you.

At Mount Davidson's cross, I was overcome with loss, how can I know what is real when all I know is what I feel?

I'm still searching for the light, but that doesn't make it right, between me and you, I wonder.

Wonder if it's Time killing time.

Always you, but I am not the blind leading blind, Always you always there, entwined souls, no broken bones, nothing heals the same.

we both share in the blame, yeah, nothing feels the same, Still I'm glad you came, bolt the door before you go.

In the morning if you call, act like nothing's wrong at all, we'll pretend and make it true, just between me and you.

This wait another day.

Yeah, we still have time to pray, but between me and you, I wonder.

Wonder if it's time killing time.

Always you.

But I am not the blind, leading blind.

Always you.

Always on my mind.

We, as a band and as artists, we can't NOT challenge ourselves.

We are one of those bands where, if we see something and we want it, we're gonna go for it, and we just can't turn that off.

I would say that that is the case for a lot of artists.

People have this idea like, you just do one thing, like Oh, this is your sound and this is all that you do, or This is the type of music that you write and that's all that you do.

The truth is that most artists, we're creative people, we have a lot of ideas.

That's where we get the initial ideas to do the thing that we're doing now, but those ideas keep coming, and they change, and they change over time.

Unless you allow yourself to pigeonhole yourself, unless you allow yourself to pigeonhole yourself.

But good artists don't.

Good artists don't do that, good artists change, and they follow that creative path.

So, we could have done that, we could have, just at any given time, in any time in our career doing this, we could have just stopped and said "No, this is it, we're going to do this, and this is the only thing we're going to focus on, its the only thing we're going to promote, but we didn't.

We didn't, because we knew it would be bad if we did that, and so we went down the creative path.

Zandalee, Zandalee, I hear you're back in Baton Rouge, Zandalee, Zandalee, what they're saying must be true.

That hep cat you've been seein' must have blown his final tune.

At the pearly gates he wailed the Mournin' blues.

Zandalee, don't know what I'm supposed to do.

Zandalee, Zandalee, somehow my calls just don't get through.

So I hitched a ride from Memphis, on down to the bayou, Just for the chance to jump and jive with you.

There's a warm haze, the whiskey sours burn a slow blaze, yeah, there'll be dark days - cold, lonely, desperate.

but tonight's Zandalee, don't know what I'm supposed to do, Zandalee, Zandalee, can't take my eyes off of you, those hips that you keep and that Chinese tattoo, got me learnin' foreign languages from you Oh, I won't let you out of my sight, oh, cause everything feels so right.

Won't you dance with me tonight?

Tell me, Tell me, darling, tell me, I could swing you to the sky, with that short skirt Zandalee, Don't know what I'm supposed to do, Zandalee, Zandalee, Ya, I'm still in love with you.

Lets catch a bus to Memphis so I can marry you, On a summer night in Graceland, that way, you can love me true.

Zandalee, Zandalee.

It's really hard to condense things into the formats that are really pithy things, you know like social media stuff, all that, you know, it's like asking of Youtube what kind of little short little quip can I make, it's like, we're not like that, you know, as people, so this is not a real thing, that we're really that naturally good at, because we're people who sit and ponder things for a long time, and that's part of the artistic process for us, the art's not us, we're too long-winded, we're not snappy, we're old, we're older people who make art, and yeah, that's what we care about, you know, we care about this thing that we've taken the time to make, we want to present our stuff to the world, and we want to entertain people.

and we want it to be the best quality that we can give to people, and that's what we're going to do.

Instrumental.. High, Low, everywhere that I go, Run, but I can't slow it down, feel it all around, both near and in the distance.

Heartbeat pulsing through the ground, feel it all around, outflanking my resistance, Run, but I can't slow it down.

Tick Tock, can't escape the big clock, Air is filled with the sound, hear it all around.

The clicking and the clacking, Groans of coils tightly wound, hear it all around.

The ringing and clanging, Air is filled with I feel the engine slowing as we pull into the station Come to bury my body, shovel my soul down to hell Clip clop, no one let a word drop, laying my body in the ground, feel them all around Shoveling in silence , no one dares to make a sound, feel them all around covering the violence, no one dares to make a sound.

I feel the engine slowing, as we pull into the station, come to bury my body, and shovel my soul down to hell.

Clip clop no one let a word drop Laying my body in the ground Feel them all around Shoveling in silence No one dares to make a sound Feel them all around Covering the violence No one dares to make a sound I feel the engine slowing as we pull into the station come to bury my body shovel my soul down to hell I hear the chorus growing, Can you hear them all rejoicing?!

They're calling me to join them, and add my voice to the sound.

Ooh.... Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh... Backroads is made possible by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund with money by the vote of the people, November 4th, 2008.