Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
George Strait
Performer
Alan Jackson
Performer
Glenn Worf
Bass
Mike Daily
Steel Guitar
Gene Elders
Fiddle
Ronnie Huckaby
Keyboards
John Michael Whitby
Keyboards
Mike Kennedy
Drums
Joe Manuel
Acoustic Guitar
Bennie Mcarthur
Electric Guitar
Rick McRae
Electric Guitar
Thom Flora
Background Vocals
Marty Slayton
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Larry Cordle
Composer
Larry Shell
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
George Strait
Producer
Chuck Ainlay
Mixing Engineer
Dave Hewitt
Engineer
Brandon Schexnayder
Assistant Mixing Engineer
David Roberts
Assistant Recording Engineer
Mat Scheiner
Assistant Recording Engineer
Andy Manganello
Assistant Recording Engineer
George Olson
Assistant Engineer
Ernie Gonzales
Assistant Engineer
Kam Luchterhand
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Tony Castle
Assistant Recording Engineer
Allen Ditto
Assistant Recording Engineer
Matt Rausch
Assistant Recording Engineer
John Harter
Assistant Recording Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Nobody saw him running, from 16th avenue
They never found the fingerprint, or the weapon that was used
But someone killed country music, cut out its heart and soul
They got away with murder, down on music row
The almighty dollar and the lust for worldwide fame
Slowly killed tradition and for that someone should hang
(Oh, you tell them, Alan)
Oh, they all say not guilty, but the evidence will show
That murder was committed, down on music row
For the steel guitars no longer cry and fiddles barely play
But drums and rock 'n roll guitars are mixed up in your face
Ol' Hank wouldn't have a chance on today's radio
Since they committed murder, down on music row
They thought no one would miss it, once it was dead and gone
They said, "No one would buy them old drinking and cheating songs"
(But I'll still buy 'em)
Well, there ain't no justice in it and the hard facts are cold
Murder's been committed, down on music row
Oh, the steel guitars no longer cry, and you can't hear fiddles play
With drums and rock 'n roll guitars mixed right up in your face
Why, the Hag, he wouldn't have a chance, on today's radio
Since they committed murder, down on music row
Why, they even tell the Possum, to pack up and go back home
There's been an awful murder, down on music row
Writer(s): Larry Cordle, Larry Shell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com