Lyrics
Simon:
Mr. Tippin, so pleased to meet you!
Aaron:
Just call me Aaron.
Simon:
Well Aaron, I can't tell you what an honor it is to sing your song.
Aaron:
Ah, thank you Simon.
Simon:
I just have a few minor changes, but you probably won't even notice.
Aaron:
Ah, did he say changes?
Simon:
Sometimes she runs, sometimes she doesn't
Aaron:
It's supposed to be "sometimes she don't."
Simon:
More than once she's left me on the side of the road
The older she gets, the slower we go
But there isn't anything wrong with the radio
Aaron:
'Cuse me, 'cuse me. Stop. Stop the tape please.
'Cuse me Simon.
Simon:
Yes Mr. Tippin.
Aaron:
Aaron.
It's ah, "ain't nothin' wrong with the radio."
Simon:
Yes Mr. Tippin but-
Aaron:
Aaron.
Simon:
But you see it's grammatically incorrect.
Aaron:
I know that, but it's, it's a license we songwriters use to, to get the proper feeling.
Simon:
Trust me Mr. Tippin.
Hit it boys!
She needs a carburetor, a set of plug wires
She's ridin' me around on four bald tires
The wipers don't work, and the horn doesn't blow
But there isn't anything wrong
Aaron:
Ah Simon.
Simon:
With the radio
I've got sixteen speakers crossin' my back dash
A little bobbin' dog watchin' everybody pass
Dual antennas whippin' in the wind
Lord, there isn't a country station that
Aaron:
Oh brother.
Simon:
I can't tune in
She isn't a Cadillac, and she isn't a Rolls
But there isn't anything wrong with the radio
Aaron:
Ah Simon, Simon, Simon.
Simon:
Yes Mr. Tippin.
Aaron:
Call me Aaron.
It's well, it's sounding real good, but replacing "ain't" with "isn't" ain't cutting it for me pal.
Simon:
But educationally speaking-
Aaron:
Look Simon. It's more fun to sing it that way, it's more soulful.
Simon:
Well I'll just put more soul into "isn't" Aaron.
Aaron:
It's Mr. Tippin pal, and just sing the song that way I wrote it.
Simon:
Yes sir.
I got stopped by a cop late last night
Out-of-date tags and no tail lights
He said I oughta run you in, but I'm lettin' you go
Because there ain't nothin' wrong with your radio
I got the best lookin' gal in my hometown
I asked her last time that I took her out
Honey, tell me what it is that makes you love me so
She said there, ah, ain't nothin' wrong with your radio
I've got sixteen speakers crossin' my back dash
A little bobbin' dog watchin' everybody pass
Dual antennas whippin' in the wind
Lord, there ain't a country station that I can't tune in
She ain't a Cadillac, and she ain't a Rolls
But there ain't nothin' wrong with the radio
No, she ain't a Cadillac, and she ain't a Rolls
But there isn't anything wrong with the radio
Aaron:
I give up.
Simon:
Aaron, Aaron!
I've got a great idea.
What do you think of a whole new album of grammatically correct songs?
Like "You Aren't Anything But A Hound Dog" or "Isn't That A Shame."
We could call the album "There Isn't A Mountain High Enough."
Why it'll give school teachers goosebumps.
Aaron:
Yeah, yeah right.
Ah, you know Simon I think Garth Brooks has a couple songs that could use some of your rewritin'.
Let me give you his number.
Simon:
Oh, that would be great!
Aaron:
And, ah, Clint Black loves to collaborate with young upincomers.