George Lucas, Steven Spielburg, Frances Ford Coppola. These directors have great ideas, killer instincts, and popular demand. And why? They know their film. They are responsible for its direction, content, and movement–which would be a daunting task if they didn’t know their film.
The clarity of song’s message depends on the same creative control–choosing a direction and sticking to it! Knowing what your song is about, where it ends up, and what it means will show through in your writing. Songs with a clear direction will make a lot more sense to listeners than a hodgepodge group of ideas.
Do you connect with songs you don’t get? Probably not. What about songs you can understand and relate to? Those are the keepers, aren’t they?
For a while, I liked to let my song run free even in its structure. I left a lot open to interpretation, which I thought was very multi-dimensional; however, listeners only found it confusing.
It can be tough to find and keep your direction; you get distracted by pretty (or ugly) thoughts along the way and soon enough you’re down some backroad you don’t remember turning onto!
At those moments, it’s helpful to put down my brain and write with feeling. Taking a few minutes to jot down ideas frees your mind to focus on what you’re really writing about. I know if another paper doesn’t hold my ideas for me, I’ll waste energy trying to include them in my current writing–which ends up confusing my audience. But if I pause and empty my thought tank, I can track down my direction and write with purpose.
Simple Steps to Stimulating Songs (and anything else for that matter…)
Ask your brain:
-What is my purpose-why am I writing?
-What message or emotion am I expressing-what do I want to say?
-How do I want to convey my message/emotion? Should I use a metaphor? A story? Wit?
-How will the listener to respond? Do I want to endear my listeners or raise their eyebrows; stir up sadness or excitement; foster curiosity or awareness, etc…?
The essence of art weighs the shoulders of the artist, who without direction or goal will surely crumple under all his possibilities.
-Nola Forthwrite
<RANT>There’s hardly a instance of stillness in our busy, busy culture. Just today, I took twitter updates off my phone because I can’t think or write for 30 seconds without someone tweeting about something or another. And we think all this technology is good? ;)
Sure, it allows us to stay connected, market ourselves, etc; but how connected do you really need to be? And do people really need to be apart of your every thought? And do you need to be apart of mine?
I can read tweets on the computer, along with my emails, facebook crap, and RSS feeds, which already feels like too much to keep up with–so why have am I sending it all to my phone? So it can plague me 24/7?! Do I not have better things to do? Plans, housework, maybe even HANGING OUT with tweet-heads I follow? I think I do. </ RANT>
…
In all the madness, my frustration distracts me from writing because I get worn out. My personality resists processing so much stimulation. In a heavy-traffic lifestyle, it’s vital to stop and catch up with ourselves.
Do you remember breathing in your day? Probably not, since it’s something we do so involuntarily that we needn’t even consider it. But I tend to think about breathing a lot.
Here’s my reasoning:
Breath is life, right? You must inhale and exhale to live; you must inhale and exhale slowly not to stress your body.
Thought is apart of life, right? You must think to reason; you must control your thought not to stress your mind.
Anything that strips me of my breath control or mental control is probably something I don’t have energy for.
When you consider that breathing and thinking take up most of our time (because everything else kind of relies on them), doesn’t it seem silly that we don’t take time to think about our breath or mental state? Doesn’t it seem silly that we knowingly stress our bodies and minds by recklessly (and knowingly) plowing through life?
You’ll never appreciate what happens in a moment, and therefore never accurately describe it, if you never experience your own moments. Taking time to be still, breathe, and control your thoughts is essential to writing, focusing your mind and body on the moment’s task.
Songwriting is about expanding the physical senses and emotions of these moments so the audience feels like they’re apart of them. So chill out for a few and take it in. If it helps you to call it work, preparation for a future gig, or research, then you probably need to clear out for a spell (I suggest enjoying a tasty beverage somewhere serene!)… at least till play becomes pleasurable again. ;)
Let’s settle down and blanket the ground now
It’s so nice being together, just being together
Mellowed out under the clouds now
This world is full of wonders, but you’re my favorite color…
Favorite Color illustrates loving the moment and brings up an important writing asset called metaphor. The last line calls someone a “favorite color”…colors aren’t people, so how do you know what I mean?
Chances are you know what it’s like to have a favorite color; you buy clothes, paint walls, and choose products in that color because you love it and you can’t get enough. Right?
So if I’m talking about a person being my favorite color, I’m making a pretty strong statement without coming right out and saying “I like you best” (boring!).
In the world of language and literature, we call this type of statement “metaphor”. Metaphor is a tool used to explain ideas using experiences others can understand or relate to. Sometimes literal explanations are just uninteresting, or perhaps too confusing for the reader; in these cases, we use figurative language like metaphor.
Another metaphor to consider:
If I say words are puzzle pieces, I’m defining words BY puzzle pieces. And it works, because you assume I think words are tiny, hard-to-fit pieces that create a complete image when connected correctly. Even though words are not puzzle pieces, their characteristics match, so I can use one to explain the other.
If I have a busy week coming up, I might say, “I better batten down the hatches!” For sailors, to “batten down the hatches” means, “prepare the ship for a storm!” When I use this metaphor, I’m likening my busy week to a storm that I must prepare for. I don’t have to say anything literal about my week because this metaphor is commonly understood. Because others understand common phrases, idioms, and myths, writers often use them to make concepts easier to digest (or just make them prettier).
Metaphor makes language more interesting, so using it in writing can only help you engage your audience. Who doesn’t like stories better than a long, dry explanation of events?
As writers we aspire to forming our own metaphor to impart our thoughts to others because those common cliches are too burnt out for creative use. More than likely, you use metaphor all the time without realizing it. Can you catch yourself?
(Warning: Catching metaphor is addicting. You may never think the same again! ;))
“Let me write the songs of a nation. I don’t care who writes its laws.”
Andrew Fletcher’s (the Scottish writer, not of Depeche Mode) bold statement is evidence that song is a powerful force of communication.
Looking at our culture, music is an accurate indicator of where people’s heads are at, even moreso than the stories selling at news stands. Sure, political beef, agendas, and the daily unfolding of life appease some and carry plenty historical value, but listen to a nation’s music and you’ll have a much more vivid picture of their traditions, values, and ideas, stripped of political correctness and assumptions.
Why is it that song has such big muscles when it comes to nailing down a culture? Because it’s one of culture’s few outlets for conveying how it really feels, thinks, and lives. People don’t filter music like they do the news; it’s pretty nonthreatening. And since there’s no filter, music really sinks into people.
If you look at the twentieth century, you’ll see that music themes the nation and carries it through changes. Take the ’60s and ’70s: throw a nation into a brutal war they don’t agree with and you birth “flower children,” nursed on the musical peace, love, and frustrations of Bob Dylan, The Grateful Dead,The Supremes, and the Rolling Stones. Early in the ’90s, some of culture decided to escape the 80s snappy pop, cracking the deliberately dirty sound of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, and Soundgard in the damp streets of Seattle.
Think about the genres (categories) we have for music: hip hop, folk, electronica, country, top 40, indie, rock, alternative, grunge, punk…the list is forever long. Now, match them with listeners. Chances are you’ll get a spot-on idea of their mentalities, tastes, and what stirs their emotions.
Personally, my mood greatly dictates what I listen to. I often listen to something that sounds like how I want to feel, or something that accentuates my current mood. Most people wouldn’t initially take me for a punk girl, but my rebellious side likes to ride, man. And I let it out. Mostly in the car, driving much-too-fast. ;) Just kidding, officers.
Why did you choose the music you listen to? Does it match or contradict your personality?
Ever eavesdrop on a folks who speak another language than you? Sounds like hogwash right? You might be able to get an idea if the conversation is funny, sad, or angry, but you’ll miss the specifics by a long shot.
To avoid that bewilderment in our discussions of music and songwriting, we need a common vocabulary.
Lyrics on a page and notations in sheet music are symbols that represent song, just like letters represent sounds in our language. Though some differ dramatically, most song lyrics follow a standard structure:
Verse 1 (V1):
A steady rain is falling on your monogrammed umbrella
under which you write your last letter to me
Pre-med stationary is just lines on a page
and the answers for your silence are diagnosis made
from your books, from your new life
You’ll run away from me, crying as you go
and you’ll cry yourself to sleep every night you’re alone, but baby
A verse is a group of lyrical phrases used to set up the main idea and feeling of the song.
Verses are typically found before and after the chorus.
Chorus (Cho.):
If you let me
I will come to where you are
Even though I hate the weather
Sunny skies are so much better
But
if you let me
I will bear Seattle’s gray
Just to see your face
If you let me
The chorus is the repeated lines that emphasize the main idea of the song. The most memorable line, or “hook”, is found in the chorus, bringing the listener back to the central thought or feeling in the song, and sinking the hook in deeper!
Verse 2 (V2):
A steady fire is reaching to the endless desert sky
under which you write your last of love to me
Combat letter paper is scarred brown with dust and rage
and hopes for our tomorrow are sad presumptions made
From this fight, from loss of life
You’ll run away from me, crying as you go
and you’ll cry yourself to sleep every night you’re alone
Notice there are common lines at the end of each verse, beginning with “you’ll run away from me/crying as you go”. This “prechorus” draws attention to the upcoming chorus. If you played the song in the sidebar, you’ll notice that the melody heightens with the prechorus, starting the music’s swing into the chorus.
Chorus:
If you let me
I will come to where you are
Even though I hate the weather
Cooler days are so much better
But
If you let me
I will bear the ashy rain
Just to see your face
If you let me
Notice that each chorus is a little different. If you let me is pretty narrative (story-like), so it was fitting for me to lyrically sync each chorus with the verse (or bridge) above it.
Bridge:
What if we don’t survive and can’t go on
Will I still find you here to hold me in your arms?
Even if you have dreams you can’t see beyond
I will be here to love you when they’re said and done
When it’s all said and done
The bridge is a connection piece for songs that have a little more to say, or lose ends to tie. It arrives late in the song, serving the final thought before the final chorus.
Chorus:
If you let me
I will come to where you are
Even though I hate the weather
Life with you is so much better
If you let me
I will bear whatever comes our way
Just to see your face
If you let me
If the chorus changes throughout the song, the final chorus will wrap them up, bringing the song to a close. Here, all the talk about weather is summed up in the final thought: that life with the ones you love is more important than insignificant circumstances. It’s an awfully nice thought, don’t you think?
In an Origins post, I mentioned that form and structure developed later than song itself. Talking about a song’s structure, lyrics, or melody is like talking about plans for the weekend–they framework the experience to come, but they are not the experience.
That said, don’t get hung up on them! Write out your ideas before chopping them up into verses. Structure is a helpful tool, but as the writer you must let your song run free until it knows what it’s about and what it might like to become. Once you have direction, it’s much easier to distinguish your verses from your choruses, etc…
As I observe the trends in popular music, I can appreciate this striking metaphor about shoving our creativity into specific structures, just so it’s acceptable to critics. (If you have to read it twice, read it twice!):
In our modern days, we too often make our ideas to fit the forms. We put our guest, the poetic thought, that comes to us like a homing bird from out the mystery of the blue sky – we put this confiding stranger straightway into that iron bed, the “sonata form,” or perhaps even the third rondo form, for we have quite an assortment. Should the idea survive and grow too large for the bed, and if we have learned to love it too much to cut off its feet and thus make it fit, why do we run the risk of having some critic wise in his theoretical knowledge, say, as was and is said of Chopin, “He is weak in sonata form!” (1912)
Ever listened to the tribal chants on National Geographic? Pretty unfamiliar, huh?
But when you consider the sound of these chants, it’s not hard to find their similarity with cries of pain, excitement, or mourning. That’s because chanting is for expressing passionate emotion.
Emotion is our reaction to the world we experience through our senses. If our emotion is passionate, we speak, or yell, sing, or sob, depending on the emotion. We understand what these sounds mean, just as the tribes knew what their chants meant. As it gains meaning and feeling, sound becomes song, especially in nature.
The world around us is not quiet, even in the most far off places, because life does not reside solely under the skin, but in nature’s interactions: the “plop” of a nut as it falls into a pond, the symphony of raindrops on a lake, wind’s movement through tree leaves, the screech of cricket wings at night…these are nature’s song!
Song is an expression of sounds that have a beginning and end, and it still communicates emotion. What we consider “song” today traveled a long road, from ancient times when people listened and sang to nature, through strict religious purposes, to entertainment (and its business) as we know it today.
As humanity developed, we structured our traditions and ideas, giving them names (“song”), categories (“music”), and form (“iambic pentameter”). When we started writing with these structures in mind, we built a stereotype for song, which is probably why most of us think tribal chants sound like noise. Go figure, right?
Today, try opening your mind to all of life’s song. Don’t hear it as noise, but as nature’s melody in your ears! Who knows, you might like it…
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