Okay, that title might be a little extreme, even though I know a lot of people would like me to destroy MY instruments, but there is a certain wisdom to be found in those words. In fact, it reminds me of some of the best songwriting advice I ever heard, which came from none other than Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees. (Not directly, mind you, it's not like Barry and I sit around shooting the sh*t about how to groom your chest hair, or anything.)
Now, I know some people might scoff at The Bee Gees for their disco tunes, but those people are sorely misguided because The Bee Gees are, in fact, extremely gifted songwriters who have written some of the most diverse, enduring and popular tunes of the last 40 plus years. Not only that, they can wear the sh*t out of white pants suits.
Anyway, what Barry said, and I agree with from personal experience, is that songwriters should, from time to time, write away from their instruments. What this means is it's a good idea to get away from your favorite composing tool and try to come up with melodies, rhythms, and harmonies in your head, if possible.
While this may sound difficult - especially if you're in the early stages of songwriting - it does help to free you up from learned or ingrained patterns of behavior and keeps you from falling into a rut. For example, if you write on the piano, you may find yourself always starting with an a minor chord and then going to a G magor chord immediately after. If you write in your head, you may surprise yourself and shift to a g minor chord or something equally adventurous. Or, you might do six bars of a melody before changing the harmony, instead of your usual four or two.
Similarly, you can try writing on a different instrument than you're accustomed, if you are able to do so. Hell, sometimes it's more exciting to write on another instrument that you DON'T know how to play because it ooften takes you places you would never go once you get a little theory in you.
So try stepping away from your instrument to write; don't let it be a songwriting crutch. Try writing in your head riding the bus to work one day or late at night lying in bed (quietly of coruse, so you don't disturb your significant other). You may actually surprise yourself and come up with something innovative that you really like. Plus, you can always go back to your instrument of choice and fill in the blanks if you get stuck. That is, unless you took the first line of this blog to heart and threw your guitar in the fireplace or something...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Myths and Fallacies, Part 2
Here's another in our ongoing series of misguided beliefs which can sabotage the budding songwriter.
Fallacy #2: The more notes in a song, the better it is.
I like to call this the "prog-rock" or "virtuoso" myth. There are tons of technically proficient musicians who can make their fret boards or drum sets literally burst into flames with crazy, animated, frenetic playing. There are also tons of songwriters who feel that they must write to accomodate said musicians by packing tons of notes, crazy chord changes, and tricky time signatures into every song.
Usually these writers/musicians send aspiring, would-be writers/musicians into fits of glee. And 99 out of 100 times I could care less. Someone once said that the notes you choose not to play are just as important as the notes you choose to play, and this is 100 percent true. Crazy soloing and long elaborate scores may have their place, but too many people look up to these writers and performers simply because they are doing something they can't. It is not enough to write thousands of notes: the secret is to select the most effective notes that communicate the feel you want. Otherwise, you're just talking and talking, and you're not really saying anything.
So unless you're writing for King Crimson, keep it lean and mean.
Fallacy #2: The more notes in a song, the better it is.
I like to call this the "prog-rock" or "virtuoso" myth. There are tons of technically proficient musicians who can make their fret boards or drum sets literally burst into flames with crazy, animated, frenetic playing. There are also tons of songwriters who feel that they must write to accomodate said musicians by packing tons of notes, crazy chord changes, and tricky time signatures into every song.
Usually these writers/musicians send aspiring, would-be writers/musicians into fits of glee. And 99 out of 100 times I could care less. Someone once said that the notes you choose not to play are just as important as the notes you choose to play, and this is 100 percent true. Crazy soloing and long elaborate scores may have their place, but too many people look up to these writers and performers simply because they are doing something they can't. It is not enough to write thousands of notes: the secret is to select the most effective notes that communicate the feel you want. Otherwise, you're just talking and talking, and you're not really saying anything.
So unless you're writing for King Crimson, keep it lean and mean.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Be Thought-Provoking, Don't Tell People How to Think
Songwriters often feel very strongly about things and urgently feel like they need to share their message with the world. This sort of impulse goes with the territory of being an artist, I suppose, although some feel the need more acutely than others. Young songwriters in particular often feel the need to try and make people change their ways, or see the world from their point of view.
However, I want to caution you to tread lightly when trying to "convert" the world to seeing things your way. This is not to say that you shouldn't feel passionately about things or even that you should compromise your view. If you feel strongly about a subject, you should definitely express your feelings about it.
This is more about being effective in your modes of expression; what good is shouting at people and telling them "what they should do" if you're only going to turn them off and make them even more determined to ignore your pleas? No one wants to be lectured to or told what they're doing wrong. To do so comes off as the height of arrogance and serves mainly to alienate the listener.
At best, songs that chastise the listener in the second person serve mainly to galvanize fans who are already converted to the singer's viewpoint and agenda (i.e. the proverbial "preaching to the choir"). While these songs DO have a place within certain genres (punk, heavy metal), and can help "rally the troops," they primarily serve a cathartic function and the writer shouldn't expect much in the way of actually changing anyone's behavior. (You probably shouldn't expect much change, either way, actually.)
My personal view is that it's much better to seduce the listener, or give them food for thought, rather than try and jam an opinion down their throat. Any moral debate actually worth having is loaded with nuance and grey areas - no one really needs a song telling us how immoral it is to shoot someone for kicks - and the mature songwriter recognizes this fact. As a result, he tries to shed more light on his own viewpoint or, best-case scenario, he gets people to question something they may have taken for granted in the past. (Leave aside the fact that most people only want entertainment and don't listen to popular music for enlightenment or politics and would consider it foolish to do so.)
To illustrate my point, let's look at two songs on the unlikely song subject of vegetarianism. First, consider the well-known title track from The Smiths' 1985 album, "Meat is Murder." If you've never heard it, check it out here:
While The Smiths recorded some great songs and remain a critic and fan favorite to this day, you really have to wonder who THIS song is appealing to exactly, and whether or not I agree with the message of the song is beside the point. While the goal might be to "unsettle" the meat-eating listener with the sounds of animals being led to slaughter (and there's no doubting Morrissey's sincerity and passion), I can't really imagine anyone listening to this and changing their carnivorous ways. Good intentions aside, it just comes off as too petulant, overwrought, and condemnatory to be effective. As a result, the song serves only as a self-congratulatory anthem for the already-converted, and I doubt even THEY enjoy listening to the repeated moans of a doomed bovine.
Now, contrast "Meat is Murder" with this song from 1982, "Torture Me" performed by punk legends The Damned and written by band member and avid animal rights activist Captain Sensible:
"Torture Me" is about the exact same topic as "Meat is Murder." but is arguably far more effective, despite its lesser-known status. Why is this? Firstly, the equally-earnest Captain Sensible, rather than playing the righteous accuser (even if that's the hidden intention) adopts the first-person role of an animal being slaughtered for food. As a result, he immediately casts himself as victim as opposed to moral judge. This is a clever move, and also one that forces the listener (if he's paying attention at all) into an unfamiliar perspective.
Secondly, the band offsets some of the gruesomeness of the imagery by couching the lyrics in a pretty but sad and plaintive piano melody. Rather than putting the listener on the defensive, this strategy makes the listener even MORE receptive to the subject matter at hand. However, despite the alluring effect, the music remains consistent with the tragic theme of the lyrics.
"Torture Me" is a thought-provoking and imaginative approach to a moral issue that's difficult to broach in the context of popular song. And, while Captain Sensible's moral message may be exactly the same as Morrissey's, his M.O. is completely different. Admittedly, like "Meat is Murder," "Torture Me" has probably never won any converts. However, which song do you think is more LIKELY to give the neutral listener pause? Which song do you think the neutral listener would rather hear if he's already decided on the moral issues? Which one feels more like "preaching to the choir"?
As I said earlier, I have no doubt that Morrissey is quite sincere in his unwavering support of animal rights. Perhaps he would argue that venting his moral outrage on behalf of his fans was the whole point of "Meat is Murder." Fair enough. However, if an artist isn't going to appeal to anyone outside his faithful flock, then he's verging on the artistically insular.
Besides, where is it written that the goal of a songwriter is to "make people think like me"? That's an arrogant goal and possibly the height of folly. Don't fall into the trap of trying to overreach the limitations of a pop song just because of your moral certitude or blinding ambition to bring enlightenment to the masses. Recognize the strengths and weaknesses of your genre and make them work for you.
If you want to make people think, don't tell them what to think or how to think. Try showing them things from a different perspective and let them think for themselves. If your point of view is worthwhile, you'll gain far more converts and fans by stimulating their minds than you will by admonishing their actions.
Give people food for thought, but don't jam it down their throats. Even if it's meatless food for thought.
However, I want to caution you to tread lightly when trying to "convert" the world to seeing things your way. This is not to say that you shouldn't feel passionately about things or even that you should compromise your view. If you feel strongly about a subject, you should definitely express your feelings about it.
This is more about being effective in your modes of expression; what good is shouting at people and telling them "what they should do" if you're only going to turn them off and make them even more determined to ignore your pleas? No one wants to be lectured to or told what they're doing wrong. To do so comes off as the height of arrogance and serves mainly to alienate the listener.
At best, songs that chastise the listener in the second person serve mainly to galvanize fans who are already converted to the singer's viewpoint and agenda (i.e. the proverbial "preaching to the choir"). While these songs DO have a place within certain genres (punk, heavy metal), and can help "rally the troops," they primarily serve a cathartic function and the writer shouldn't expect much in the way of actually changing anyone's behavior. (You probably shouldn't expect much change, either way, actually.)
My personal view is that it's much better to seduce the listener, or give them food for thought, rather than try and jam an opinion down their throat. Any moral debate actually worth having is loaded with nuance and grey areas - no one really needs a song telling us how immoral it is to shoot someone for kicks - and the mature songwriter recognizes this fact. As a result, he tries to shed more light on his own viewpoint or, best-case scenario, he gets people to question something they may have taken for granted in the past. (Leave aside the fact that most people only want entertainment and don't listen to popular music for enlightenment or politics and would consider it foolish to do so.)
To illustrate my point, let's look at two songs on the unlikely song subject of vegetarianism. First, consider the well-known title track from The Smiths' 1985 album, "Meat is Murder." If you've never heard it, check it out here:
While The Smiths recorded some great songs and remain a critic and fan favorite to this day, you really have to wonder who THIS song is appealing to exactly, and whether or not I agree with the message of the song is beside the point. While the goal might be to "unsettle" the meat-eating listener with the sounds of animals being led to slaughter (and there's no doubting Morrissey's sincerity and passion), I can't really imagine anyone listening to this and changing their carnivorous ways. Good intentions aside, it just comes off as too petulant, overwrought, and condemnatory to be effective. As a result, the song serves only as a self-congratulatory anthem for the already-converted, and I doubt even THEY enjoy listening to the repeated moans of a doomed bovine.
Now, contrast "Meat is Murder" with this song from 1982, "Torture Me" performed by punk legends The Damned and written by band member and avid animal rights activist Captain Sensible:
"Torture Me" is about the exact same topic as "Meat is Murder." but is arguably far more effective, despite its lesser-known status. Why is this? Firstly, the equally-earnest Captain Sensible, rather than playing the righteous accuser (even if that's the hidden intention) adopts the first-person role of an animal being slaughtered for food. As a result, he immediately casts himself as victim as opposed to moral judge. This is a clever move, and also one that forces the listener (if he's paying attention at all) into an unfamiliar perspective.
Secondly, the band offsets some of the gruesomeness of the imagery by couching the lyrics in a pretty but sad and plaintive piano melody. Rather than putting the listener on the defensive, this strategy makes the listener even MORE receptive to the subject matter at hand. However, despite the alluring effect, the music remains consistent with the tragic theme of the lyrics.
"Torture Me" is a thought-provoking and imaginative approach to a moral issue that's difficult to broach in the context of popular song. And, while Captain Sensible's moral message may be exactly the same as Morrissey's, his M.O. is completely different. Admittedly, like "Meat is Murder," "Torture Me" has probably never won any converts. However, which song do you think is more LIKELY to give the neutral listener pause? Which song do you think the neutral listener would rather hear if he's already decided on the moral issues? Which one feels more like "preaching to the choir"?
As I said earlier, I have no doubt that Morrissey is quite sincere in his unwavering support of animal rights. Perhaps he would argue that venting his moral outrage on behalf of his fans was the whole point of "Meat is Murder." Fair enough. However, if an artist isn't going to appeal to anyone outside his faithful flock, then he's verging on the artistically insular.
Besides, where is it written that the goal of a songwriter is to "make people think like me"? That's an arrogant goal and possibly the height of folly. Don't fall into the trap of trying to overreach the limitations of a pop song just because of your moral certitude or blinding ambition to bring enlightenment to the masses. Recognize the strengths and weaknesses of your genre and make them work for you.
If you want to make people think, don't tell them what to think or how to think. Try showing them things from a different perspective and let them think for themselves. If your point of view is worthwhile, you'll gain far more converts and fans by stimulating their minds than you will by admonishing their actions.
Give people food for thought, but don't jam it down their throats. Even if it's meatless food for thought.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Cons of Inconsistency
One of the big secrets to writing effective pop music is consistency. In fact, I believe this is one of the MOST important skills an aspiring songwriter can master, but still one of the most overlooked.
By consistency I mean that certain elements of your song need to remain relatively stable as in order to give the impression of a cohesive whole. In general, your tone, theme, mood, subject matter, voice and point of view should all stay within a certain "range" and any wild musical or lyrical shifts ought to be the result of carefully considered design as opposed to haphazard chance.
How many times have you been on youtube and listened to an original song with lyrics all over the map? How many times have you listened to a new song that was pleasant enough but it feels oddly bipolar or schizophrenic (and not in a good way)? How about songs that start off with solid, concrete imagery, then lapse into the realm of the abstract, before finally turning into a jumble of clichés? Many of these problems can be traced to a lack of consistency.
Here are some of the more important types of consistency to keep in mind while writing "pop" songs.
1) Consistency between lyrics and music.
All else being equal, you want your music to roughly match the feel of your lyrics. You might have some great words you're just DYING to use, but don't assume you can just randomly graft them onto the first catchy melody you come up with. If your melody sounds like a sweet lullaby, combining it with a political dissertation on war in the Middle East won't work 99 out of 100 times. Listen to your music. What's it saying? Listen to your lyrics. What music expresses the emotion therein?
With this in mind, I am fully aware of the way a writer might use tools like irony to pair a happy melody with a sad lyric, and vice versa. Or perhaps a writer could employ mechanical beats to provide dynamic contrast or undercut a particularly passionate lyric. These types of maneuvers require a particularly deft touch, however, and most of the time they play off the consistency our ears expect.
2) Consistency of Pronoun Use
Unless you're deliberately obscuring your lyrics for some artistic reason, you want to be clear on who did what to whom, and where and when it happened. Too often I read lyrics and I can't figure out what the hell's going on because the pronouns are either shifting or unclear to begin with. Did "he" run off with "her" brother? Or are "you" running off with "him" because some OTHER "she" betrayed "us" both? Just like normal writing, you want your pronouns to be clear and consistent.
3) Consistency of Tense
Hoo boy. Here's another common trap that writers fall into: The song starts off in the present ("He's driving all night, looking for his girl..."), then shifts to the past at some point ("Then he FOUND her in that diner..."), then back to the present for a second verse, and then suddenly we're in the past again! Unless you're HG Wells, you want to avoid all the funky time travelling, especially when describing a specific event at a specific point in time. If the song's events are in the past, keep them in the past. If they're happening in the present, keep it in the present.
Of course, there are songs that start out describing the past ("I went out searching") before moving into the present to describe something that's happening now ("…but NOW I have you"). However, it's still vital that you keep the tenses consistent with the song's narrative time line, and any switch in tense should be clear and logical.
4) Consistency of Voice.
Whatever voice you start the song with, that's the one you want to carry throughout (unless you have a thematic reason for switching). So, for example, if your "voice" is happy, conversational, and uses "everyday" language, don't abruptly switch over to angry, professorial or pretentious language in your chorus. This seems like obvious stuff, but too often people get tripped up trying to make a line work where it plainly doesn't, just because they're enamored with a particular phrase. Writers need to learn to sacrifice parts (even parts we love) for the good of a song's overall consistency.
More to come…
By consistency I mean that certain elements of your song need to remain relatively stable as in order to give the impression of a cohesive whole. In general, your tone, theme, mood, subject matter, voice and point of view should all stay within a certain "range" and any wild musical or lyrical shifts ought to be the result of carefully considered design as opposed to haphazard chance.
How many times have you been on youtube and listened to an original song with lyrics all over the map? How many times have you listened to a new song that was pleasant enough but it feels oddly bipolar or schizophrenic (and not in a good way)? How about songs that start off with solid, concrete imagery, then lapse into the realm of the abstract, before finally turning into a jumble of clichés? Many of these problems can be traced to a lack of consistency.
Here are some of the more important types of consistency to keep in mind while writing "pop" songs.
1) Consistency between lyrics and music.
All else being equal, you want your music to roughly match the feel of your lyrics. You might have some great words you're just DYING to use, but don't assume you can just randomly graft them onto the first catchy melody you come up with. If your melody sounds like a sweet lullaby, combining it with a political dissertation on war in the Middle East won't work 99 out of 100 times. Listen to your music. What's it saying? Listen to your lyrics. What music expresses the emotion therein?
With this in mind, I am fully aware of the way a writer might use tools like irony to pair a happy melody with a sad lyric, and vice versa. Or perhaps a writer could employ mechanical beats to provide dynamic contrast or undercut a particularly passionate lyric. These types of maneuvers require a particularly deft touch, however, and most of the time they play off the consistency our ears expect.
2) Consistency of Pronoun Use
Unless you're deliberately obscuring your lyrics for some artistic reason, you want to be clear on who did what to whom, and where and when it happened. Too often I read lyrics and I can't figure out what the hell's going on because the pronouns are either shifting or unclear to begin with. Did "he" run off with "her" brother? Or are "you" running off with "him" because some OTHER "she" betrayed "us" both? Just like normal writing, you want your pronouns to be clear and consistent.
3) Consistency of Tense
Hoo boy. Here's another common trap that writers fall into: The song starts off in the present ("He's driving all night, looking for his girl..."), then shifts to the past at some point ("Then he FOUND her in that diner..."), then back to the present for a second verse, and then suddenly we're in the past again! Unless you're HG Wells, you want to avoid all the funky time travelling, especially when describing a specific event at a specific point in time. If the song's events are in the past, keep them in the past. If they're happening in the present, keep it in the present.
Of course, there are songs that start out describing the past ("I went out searching") before moving into the present to describe something that's happening now ("…but NOW I have you"). However, it's still vital that you keep the tenses consistent with the song's narrative time line, and any switch in tense should be clear and logical.
4) Consistency of Voice.
Whatever voice you start the song with, that's the one you want to carry throughout (unless you have a thematic reason for switching). So, for example, if your "voice" is happy, conversational, and uses "everyday" language, don't abruptly switch over to angry, professorial or pretentious language in your chorus. This seems like obvious stuff, but too often people get tripped up trying to make a line work where it plainly doesn't, just because they're enamored with a particular phrase. Writers need to learn to sacrifice parts (even parts we love) for the good of a song's overall consistency.
More to come…
Friday, May 28, 2010
Downplaying the V Chord, or Death Cab Vs. The Dominant Five!
A lot of budding songwriters ask me how they can make their tunes less "obvious." In other words, they want to avoid those moments where the song seems to be screaming out, "GET READY, 'CAUSE HERE COMES THE CHORUS!!!!"
While that type of predictably is sometimes a good thing - it makes a song especially easy to reemember and sing - there are other times when you want to be a bit more surprising. There are myriad ways to achieve that kind of subtlety, but one of the best ways I know is what I call "downplaying the V chord."
As you probably know, the V chord and the V7 chord have a very strong pull toward the tonic. For example, if you play a G7 chord in the key of C, the listener has a very strong expectation of hearing a C chord next. When you couple a G7 chord with a very "climactic" high note, this can reinforce the listener's expectations even more. So here a few simple ways you can take the "edge" off of the V chord, thwart the listener's expectations, and create musical complexity.
1) Replace the tonic with a subsitute chord.
After playing a V chord (G in the key of C), you can easily surprise the listener by moving to, say, vii (A minor in the key of C) or iii (E minor in the key of C) instead of going to the I chord (C major).
2) Modulate to a whole new key.
You can pretty much modulate anywhere when the V chord falls at the end of the pre-chorus. If your pre-chorus ends on G (V) and your chorus begins on C (I), experiment with writing a new chorus in any one of these keys, for starters: D major, E flat, or A flat. (Then try to return to C for the next verse or section.)
3) Hit a "down" note on the dominant V chord, or an "up" note on a tonic I.
Structure your melody so it dips down when the harmony is soaring "up" in anticipation of the chorus. Conversely, try hitting a high "dramatic" note when you play the stereotypically "peaceful and at rest" tonic. For example, in my song "Send me a Sign," the bridge ends on a V chord (C major, in this case) before returning to the main progression of I - flat VII - IV - I. (F, E flat, B flat, F). However, the melody dips DOWN on the last couple of bars of the V chord, before soaring up for the I chord (which is actually the beginning of the next section.)
4) Ditch the V altogether!
Lots of songs gain their power from a certain amount of tonal ambiguity, flirting with other keys or medieval modes. By avoiding certain chords (or using them sparingly) you can make your songs more mysterious, moody and subtle. For example, Roxy Music's "Mother of Pearl" has a whole second section which consists solely of D - A - E - E (flat VII - IV- I, also known as a double plagal cadence) repeating over and over. This gives the song an almost mystical, trance-like feel which is well-suited to the song. Or, consider Death Cab for Cutie's "Soul Meets Body" which employs only three chords: D minor, F and C, to be exact. On first insepection, the song appears to be in D minor natural or D dorian, (or possibly even C major or F major, based on chords alone) but by carefully skirting the "A7" the song retains an elusive, "ghostly" feel - again mirroring the lyrics quite nicely. For practice, try writing your own song that eschews the traditional V and V7 chords.
With just these few tips and ideas in mind, you're ready to start writing far more nuanced songs. Once you've mastered the art of writing "less obvious" melodies and chord progressions you can even mix things up by alternating between the straightforward, on-the-nose stuff and the more subtle material - sometimes within the same song.
While that type of predictably is sometimes a good thing - it makes a song especially easy to reemember and sing - there are other times when you want to be a bit more surprising. There are myriad ways to achieve that kind of subtlety, but one of the best ways I know is what I call "downplaying the V chord."
As you probably know, the V chord and the V7 chord have a very strong pull toward the tonic. For example, if you play a G7 chord in the key of C, the listener has a very strong expectation of hearing a C chord next. When you couple a G7 chord with a very "climactic" high note, this can reinforce the listener's expectations even more. So here a few simple ways you can take the "edge" off of the V chord, thwart the listener's expectations, and create musical complexity.
1) Replace the tonic with a subsitute chord.
After playing a V chord (G in the key of C), you can easily surprise the listener by moving to, say, vii (A minor in the key of C) or iii (E minor in the key of C) instead of going to the I chord (C major).
2) Modulate to a whole new key.
You can pretty much modulate anywhere when the V chord falls at the end of the pre-chorus. If your pre-chorus ends on G (V) and your chorus begins on C (I), experiment with writing a new chorus in any one of these keys, for starters: D major, E flat, or A flat. (Then try to return to C for the next verse or section.)
3) Hit a "down" note on the dominant V chord, or an "up" note on a tonic I.
Structure your melody so it dips down when the harmony is soaring "up" in anticipation of the chorus. Conversely, try hitting a high "dramatic" note when you play the stereotypically "peaceful and at rest" tonic. For example, in my song "Send me a Sign," the bridge ends on a V chord (C major, in this case) before returning to the main progression of I - flat VII - IV - I. (F, E flat, B flat, F). However, the melody dips DOWN on the last couple of bars of the V chord, before soaring up for the I chord (which is actually the beginning of the next section.)
4) Ditch the V altogether!
Lots of songs gain their power from a certain amount of tonal ambiguity, flirting with other keys or medieval modes. By avoiding certain chords (or using them sparingly) you can make your songs more mysterious, moody and subtle. For example, Roxy Music's "Mother of Pearl" has a whole second section which consists solely of D - A - E - E (flat VII - IV- I, also known as a double plagal cadence) repeating over and over. This gives the song an almost mystical, trance-like feel which is well-suited to the song. Or, consider Death Cab for Cutie's "Soul Meets Body" which employs only three chords: D minor, F and C, to be exact. On first insepection, the song appears to be in D minor natural or D dorian, (or possibly even C major or F major, based on chords alone) but by carefully skirting the "A7" the song retains an elusive, "ghostly" feel - again mirroring the lyrics quite nicely. For practice, try writing your own song that eschews the traditional V and V7 chords.
With just these few tips and ideas in mind, you're ready to start writing far more nuanced songs. Once you've mastered the art of writing "less obvious" melodies and chord progressions you can even mix things up by alternating between the straightforward, on-the-nose stuff and the more subtle material - sometimes within the same song.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Heavyweight Titles, Part Two
Hey, remember that killer song "Once in a While" by the phenomenal 90's rock band Dishwalla? Remember how it TORE UP the airwaves like a bad-ass mother back in 1998 and continues to crop up in regular rotation on just about every rock station you can think of??? What about that cool 1999 song "It's Saturday" by alt-rockers Marcy Playground? You couldn't get AWAY from that one. Man, I still can't get that one out of my head.
No??? You don't remember EITHER of those songs??? Hmmmm. But I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts you DO remember Dishwalla's "Counting Blue Cars," doncha? (You know, the one that goes, "Tell me all your thoughts on god... cause I'd really like to meet her...") And I KNOW you remember Marcy Playground's infectious little ditty called "Sex and Candy." Ah-ha! Sure you do!
Now, some people would argue that the reason we know the earlier hits by these guys is because they were musically better songs. Maybe. Other people would say those bands had their 15 minutes of fame and radio was ready to throw them under the bus. Maybe again.
However, I personally believe that part of the problem was not just a (debatable) lack of quality in the follow-up singles, but a distinct lack of "hook" in the titles. Now, I'm not a big fan of either song, but when you first hear titles like "Counting Blue Cars" or "Sex and Candy" (before hearing the songs themselves) you DEFINITELY want to know what they're about! "Once in a While" or "It's Saturday"... not so much.
You might argue that you didn't know the Dishwalla song was called "Counting Blue Cars" and you still remember it anyway, but WHY do you think you heard it in the first place? Songs don't just play themselves on the radio. It's quite likely that programmers and DJ's were intrigued enough by the title to give it a few spins when it debuted, and then the title, along with the lyrical novelty (god as a woman) and song's overall catchiness were enough to keep the song in heavy rotation.
When I worked at a radio station and the song "Once in a While" came out, I vividly remember looking at the CD case (before playing it) and thinking, "Well, that's the end of Dishwalla." Not because the song is bad, per se; I just knew it was gonna be kinda generic and ordinary. And sure enough it was.
Of course, I need to stress that you CAN still have a hit with ordinary, banal tititles, as many of you will no doubt be quick to point out. Sure, there are tons of hit songs by huge bands that have cliched or poor titles, but that doesn't mean weak titles aren't a hindrance in general.
Yeah, sometimes a song just cries out for a title like, say, "She" or "Tonight." But when you have a relatively ho-hum title, you better make sure the song blows the listener out of the water on every other level, because you're starting the race with a handicap. Sad to say, unless you're already on the level of Lady Gaga or U2 people just aren't going to be that eager to hear a new song titled "I Love You." (Well, maybe some people will be.)
More to come...
No??? You don't remember EITHER of those songs??? Hmmmm. But I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts you DO remember Dishwalla's "Counting Blue Cars," doncha? (You know, the one that goes, "Tell me all your thoughts on god... cause I'd really like to meet her...") And I KNOW you remember Marcy Playground's infectious little ditty called "Sex and Candy." Ah-ha! Sure you do!
Now, some people would argue that the reason we know the earlier hits by these guys is because they were musically better songs. Maybe. Other people would say those bands had their 15 minutes of fame and radio was ready to throw them under the bus. Maybe again.
However, I personally believe that part of the problem was not just a (debatable) lack of quality in the follow-up singles, but a distinct lack of "hook" in the titles. Now, I'm not a big fan of either song, but when you first hear titles like "Counting Blue Cars" or "Sex and Candy" (before hearing the songs themselves) you DEFINITELY want to know what they're about! "Once in a While" or "It's Saturday"... not so much.
You might argue that you didn't know the Dishwalla song was called "Counting Blue Cars" and you still remember it anyway, but WHY do you think you heard it in the first place? Songs don't just play themselves on the radio. It's quite likely that programmers and DJ's were intrigued enough by the title to give it a few spins when it debuted, and then the title, along with the lyrical novelty (god as a woman) and song's overall catchiness were enough to keep the song in heavy rotation.
When I worked at a radio station and the song "Once in a While" came out, I vividly remember looking at the CD case (before playing it) and thinking, "Well, that's the end of Dishwalla." Not because the song is bad, per se; I just knew it was gonna be kinda generic and ordinary. And sure enough it was.
Of course, I need to stress that you CAN still have a hit with ordinary, banal tititles, as many of you will no doubt be quick to point out. Sure, there are tons of hit songs by huge bands that have cliched or poor titles, but that doesn't mean weak titles aren't a hindrance in general.
Yeah, sometimes a song just cries out for a title like, say, "She" or "Tonight." But when you have a relatively ho-hum title, you better make sure the song blows the listener out of the water on every other level, because you're starting the race with a handicap. Sad to say, unless you're already on the level of Lady Gaga or U2 people just aren't going to be that eager to hear a new song titled "I Love You." (Well, maybe some people will be.)
More to come...
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Heavyweight Titles, Part One
Recently I was talking to a songwriter friend of mine and he told me that he was working on a new song. I asked him what the title was and he said, "The title? That's the LAST thing I worry about!"
I found this remark very telling, because while there's nothing necessarily WRONG with coming up with the title last, I couldn't help but think how important a good title is, and how often a pop song will flow easily once the title is in place.
From a writing standpoint, a good title crystalizes your concept and helps you to focus your thoughts. It's usually not a good idea to write a song if you don't have any idea what you want to say! That's not to suggest you can't write a song by just scribbling lyrics and letting them take you wherever. However, that can also result in a lot of lost time wandering in the forest, and it's not a given that everyone's going to follow you there.
A good pop song title is - more often than not - clever but not pretentious, simple but not simplistic, and intriguing but not overly confusing. The ideal song title tells the listener in a few concise words, "Hey, we're going somewhere really cool, you wanna come?" Of course, there are some important exceptions and subtle differences from genre to genre,* but in general these "rules" almost always apply.
More to come…
Footnote:
*I know that country songs, for example, make frequent use of puns and wordplay (stuff like "She Hit the Road, He Hit the Bottle"), which is something you might find a bit contrived. Similarly, prog-rock musicians use long, elaborate, and "spaced out" titles. These variations tend to work well within their respective genres.
I found this remark very telling, because while there's nothing necessarily WRONG with coming up with the title last, I couldn't help but think how important a good title is, and how often a pop song will flow easily once the title is in place.
From a writing standpoint, a good title crystalizes your concept and helps you to focus your thoughts. It's usually not a good idea to write a song if you don't have any idea what you want to say! That's not to suggest you can't write a song by just scribbling lyrics and letting them take you wherever. However, that can also result in a lot of lost time wandering in the forest, and it's not a given that everyone's going to follow you there.
A good pop song title is - more often than not - clever but not pretentious, simple but not simplistic, and intriguing but not overly confusing. The ideal song title tells the listener in a few concise words, "Hey, we're going somewhere really cool, you wanna come?" Of course, there are some important exceptions and subtle differences from genre to genre,* but in general these "rules" almost always apply.
More to come…
Footnote:
*I know that country songs, for example, make frequent use of puns and wordplay (stuff like "She Hit the Road, He Hit the Bottle"), which is something you might find a bit contrived. Similarly, prog-rock musicians use long, elaborate, and "spaced out" titles. These variations tend to work well within their respective genres.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Inside the Songwriter's Mind: Andy J. Gallagher
Weaned on a well-balanced diet of 70's glam and punk rock, Mr. Gallagher, armed only with his new CD, "Helicopter, Dolphin, Submarine," (out now on Waga Waga Records) seems hell-bent on rescuing the masses from whatever boring band your hipster friends are all raving about this month.
Tune Tipster was fortunate enough to land this short Q&A with the up and coming rocker, who graciously allowed us to pick his brain about songwriting, recording, and how David Bowie keeps nicking all the best ideas.
TT: Hello sir! Very nice to speak to you. We've been listening to your music for months and enjoying it immensely.
A: Cool, cool. Thanks for your support.
TT: The first thing I'd like to ask, does songwriting come easy to you, or is it hard work?
Andy: Songwriting, it comes easy to you at times, other times I just can't do it. I seem to go in 3 song spurts; in two days I sat down and wrote "The Rocks," "Faster and Faster," and "Another Craze."
TT: And what's the quickest you've ever written a song?
Andy: The quickest songs I've ever written are "Helicopter, Dolphin, Submarine" and "Faster and Faster." They both took roughly ten minutes. For "Helicopter, Dolphin, Submarine," I maybe actually had to add lyrics later on - I was singing the same verse twice - but the song was pretty much in place and I just added the lyrics later on.
Andy: I wrote "Helicopter, Dolphin, Submarine" at a flat in the west end of London. I was fairly drunk one night, strumming around on an acoustic guitar and I had this melody in my head and I couldn't remember if it was a Radiohead melody or not...and I decided it wasn't so I wrote a song around it! That was that; it just went together simply.
Andy: I've done that millions of times. Anything Ray Davies writes, I've written four times.
Andy: By about 40 years or so... it's kind of
annoying!
TT: Bastard!
Andy: (Laughs) Indeed. David Bowie normally beats me. Another one of my best ideas turned out to be a section of a Bowie song from "Hunky Dory" or something... They get kind of ingrained, don't they?
TT: Which brings me to the next thing I was going to ask: If you were pushed into a corner and had to pick one songwriting hero who would it be?
Andy: I really, really, REALLY like - from your neck of the woods - the Ramones. They're probably my all time favorite band. Dee Dee Ramone was obviously the main songwriter, and Joey wrote some as well. My favorite ARTIST is David Bowie, but I also like Lou Reed, from the Velvet Underground through to maybe the Berlin album... Favorite all-time songwriter if I had to name one... (pauses) David Bowie.
TT: I can definitely hear how you mix those influences. There's an intellectual leaning to the lyrics, but you still have the primal quality of someone like the Ramones...
Andy: When I originally wrote "Faster and Faster" it was a lot slower... It was going to be the main track from MY "Low" (David Bowie) album. So I gave it to my drummer, and by the time he was done revving it up, there was no chance it was gonna be on "Low." It was gonna be on "Rocket to Russia" (Ramones) instead!
TT: I would imagine the arrangements change a lot from when you start to the finished product. You worked with Roman Jugg (former guitarist/keyboardist of the Damned) for this album, were there any situations where he wanted to change the arrangement of a song, or...?
A: When you let someone like Roman produce you, you've got to let him produce you. Whatever they say they want to do, however much you think, "That's gonna ruin my song!" you have to let them try and do it. And I think Roman has some real flashes of genius in terms of the structures. For example, in "Something Else" there was a whole load of choruses going on at the end. And he said, "Look, you need to get rid of those, 'cause it's going on too long." He took 'em out, and just threw in a key change... originally the outro was in b minor and he changed it to e minor and then cut about a minute off the song. I think that arrangement just made the song work. Also, Roman co-wrote "The Men in Suits." The little "A" bit, the lead guitar bit, was just a whole key change... that's his. He wrote that. And while that doesn't make the song necessarily, it really lifts the song at a crucial moment. Some of the stuff Roman told me… Roman's a very, very clever man. You don't spend 10 years in the Damned and not learn anything, do you?
TT: I would think not. Were there any other songs you had to streamline for the album?
TT: Well, I don't know about that! The last thing I want to ask you is, are you ever surprised by which songs connect with people? Was there ever one that you loved that didn't really resonate with people, or vice versa, something that you said, "Oh, this isn't the best thing I've ever written" and people went gaga over it?
A: Normally, MY favorite song is the last song I wrote. I play it for people and go, "I want you to hear this! I've just re-invented rock and roll!" And they listen and go, "No, that's rubbish, Andy. It's terrible! Get back to the drawing board!" (Laughs) When [I] VERY first hear them, [I] think, "That's amazing!" …There's such a long period between when you actually record the songs to when you actually get the physical CD that by the time you listen to them you're kind of underwhelmed. When you get the finished version, you're kind of not happy with it, because you had this idea in your head of how it's going to sound. But then you get the enthusiasm of people that are hearing them maybe for the first time, and people tell me how wonderful this song is or how cool that song is, rather than me telling THEM which is how it starts. When I write 'em, I tell everyone else how cool they are, and then six months down the road when they're finally ready people tell me how cool they are!
TT: After playing it so many times I would imagine it's hard to be objective about anything.
A: Yeah. My favorite song on the album changes from day to day. I don't listen to it every day, but whenever I listen, I've had a different favorite song. Probably the one song that is most surprising is "The Brightest Star." That's my drummer's favorite song, and I thought it was kind of weak, that one. As you know, my drummer's quite a powerful drummer...
A: Yeah, and that's his favorite song! I kinda prefer the more uptempo ones.
TT: So what would your favorite be right now?
A: There's always two…"Faster and Faster" or "The Men in Suits."
TT: Nice. I see you're playing gigs through May, so hopefully some of our readers will get a chance to hear those tracks live. Well, we really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us, Andy, and best of luck with the album. Have a great night.
A: And you too mate. Thanks very much.
*
Check out Andy J. Gallagher's website by clicking here!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Crazy Chord-itis
When an aspiring songwriter first gets a taste for harmonic theory, he or she sometimes goes overboard trying to come up with all kinds of whacked-out chord progressions. I call this "crazy chord-itis" and believe me, I speak from personal experience! Quite often, the writer gets the idea that a chord progression is no good if someone else has even come close to using it. This "search for the lost chord" (or chord progression) is an understandable, but often unnecessary, endeavor.
First of all, when it comes to Western popular music and (basic) chord progressions, there isn't much you can come up with short of utter cacophony (and even some of that) which hasn't been utilized in some form or another. If it sounds even remotely pleasant, there's a good chance someone else has tread there before.
Secondly, even if you do come up with some wacky chord progression that you like, bear in mind that the average listener can pinpoint a strange chord progression far more easily than a common one. So, if you happen to stumble across the chords from, say, "Paranoid Android" by Radiohead, there's a better chance that someone's gonna "catch it" than if you use a simple I - V - vi -IV (which is in about 10 billion songs).
Ironically, the use of a less common chord progression is easier to discern than one that's in every other song (with all else being equal) because these "odd" chord progressions have a certain character that defies harmonic "logic" and makes them stand out more. So you could use I - IV - I - V in 50 different songs before anyone's the wiser, but repeat the chords from "I Am the Walrus" just one time and everyone's accusing you of ripping off the Beatles.
Finally, it's a bad idea to get in the habit of relying on harmonic motion to carry all your songs. While it's nice to come up with cool chord progressions, you don't want to fall into the trap of always relying on wild chord changes to save the day. Lots of incredible, classic songs have only one or two chords, and use rhythmic or melodic motion to sustain interest. Challenging yourself to write a compelling song with only one or two chords, or a super-common chord progression like I - IV -V, is a good way to work on your songwriter "total body fitness" and cure yourself of "crazy chord-itis."
First of all, when it comes to Western popular music and (basic) chord progressions, there isn't much you can come up with short of utter cacophony (and even some of that) which hasn't been utilized in some form or another. If it sounds even remotely pleasant, there's a good chance someone else has tread there before.
Secondly, even if you do come up with some wacky chord progression that you like, bear in mind that the average listener can pinpoint a strange chord progression far more easily than a common one. So, if you happen to stumble across the chords from, say, "Paranoid Android" by Radiohead, there's a better chance that someone's gonna "catch it" than if you use a simple I - V - vi -IV (which is in about 10 billion songs).
Ironically, the use of a less common chord progression is easier to discern than one that's in every other song (with all else being equal) because these "odd" chord progressions have a certain character that defies harmonic "logic" and makes them stand out more. So you could use I - IV - I - V in 50 different songs before anyone's the wiser, but repeat the chords from "I Am the Walrus" just one time and everyone's accusing you of ripping off the Beatles.
Finally, it's a bad idea to get in the habit of relying on harmonic motion to carry all your songs. While it's nice to come up with cool chord progressions, you don't want to fall into the trap of always relying on wild chord changes to save the day. Lots of incredible, classic songs have only one or two chords, and use rhythmic or melodic motion to sustain interest. Challenging yourself to write a compelling song with only one or two chords, or a super-common chord progression like I - IV -V, is a good way to work on your songwriter "total body fitness" and cure yourself of "crazy chord-itis."
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Most Important Audience
When I attempt to write songs, I tend to think of the audience I'm writing for. In my mind; if I can't connect with someone or make someone feel SOMETHING than most of what I'm doing is for naught.
That said, have you ever talked to your friends about an album and everyone has a different opinion about which songs SUCK and which songs are GREAT? And none of the songs people like seem to match up? For example, your friend Joe thinks "Transplant for a Care Bear" is the worst song Uneasy Truce has ever written, while Matt thinks it's the pinnacle of songwriting achievement. Likewise, Mary thinks "Banana-Flavored Placebo" is fantastic and Jane thinks it's crap on a shingle.
What does this tell us? Well, other than the fact that Uneasy Truce has some pretty f-ed up song titles, it tells us that different things resonate with different people. (All together now, "Thank you Captain Obvious!") However, I can guarantee that a song has a lot less chance of resonating with ANYONE if it doesn't resonate with the WRITER first.
In other words, while it's fine to consider the audience you're writing for, never let this eclipse the most important audience - YOU! Trying to successfully anticipate what will connect with all the people all of the time is a losing game - even for the experts! However, if you really believe in a song's quality, then there's a much better chance it'll connect with someone out there. And you'll feel a whole lot better being rejected for a song you're proud of than one you only wrote to please someone else.
So, when you're writing, it's okay to imagine the audience you're writing for. Just make sure you've got a seat in the front row.
That said, have you ever talked to your friends about an album and everyone has a different opinion about which songs SUCK and which songs are GREAT? And none of the songs people like seem to match up? For example, your friend Joe thinks "Transplant for a Care Bear" is the worst song Uneasy Truce has ever written, while Matt thinks it's the pinnacle of songwriting achievement. Likewise, Mary thinks "Banana-Flavored Placebo" is fantastic and Jane thinks it's crap on a shingle.
What does this tell us? Well, other than the fact that Uneasy Truce has some pretty f-ed up song titles, it tells us that different things resonate with different people. (All together now, "Thank you Captain Obvious!") However, I can guarantee that a song has a lot less chance of resonating with ANYONE if it doesn't resonate with the WRITER first.
In other words, while it's fine to consider the audience you're writing for, never let this eclipse the most important audience - YOU! Trying to successfully anticipate what will connect with all the people all of the time is a losing game - even for the experts! However, if you really believe in a song's quality, then there's a much better chance it'll connect with someone out there. And you'll feel a whole lot better being rejected for a song you're proud of than one you only wrote to please someone else.
So, when you're writing, it's okay to imagine the audience you're writing for. Just make sure you've got a seat in the front row.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Nothing Songs
As an amateur songwriter, I can honestly say I've written some bad tunes in my day. You know, the kind of song that's so ripe that fish wrapped in newspaper say, "WHOA, what the hell's that smell?" However, one thing I can honestly say I steadfastly resist at all costs is writing the "nothing song."
For those of you who don't know what I mean by the term "nothing song," I mean something that's even worse than bad: a nebulous ball of chords and notes with no compelling reason to exist, other than (usually) financial gain. The nothing song, as I define it, isn't bad OR good; it's just… THERE.
You've definitely heard nothing songs even if you think you haven't. Nothing songs can be competent, tuneful, pleasant, and even catchy. They often go down pretty easy. However, they also tend to be depressingly generic and nondescript. They tend to follow in the wake of hundreds (if not thousands) of songs with a similar sound before them. Simply stated, a nothing song is inoffensive enough, but you have to ask yourself while listening, "Did this REALLY need to be written? Is this adding anything important or significant to the already billions and billions of songs out there?"
And they don't have to be love ballads or soft rock songs, either. Even songs with loud, angry guitars or surly, wailing vocals can qualify for nothing-hood by virtue of their inconsequential nature.
I know what a lot of you are thinking: "You're talking about POP songs man! It's supposed to be disposable fun! Lighten up!" To which I reply, with a derisive snort, "PURE BUNK!" (Heh.) There are plenty of disposable "pop" (or "rock") songs which are fun and catchy as well as smart, unique and innovative. Just because something is classified as a "pop song" doesn't mean it gets a free pass to be non-inspiring, derivative dross.
When I hear a song, all I want is some sort of sign - however muted - that the artists involved might have actually gotten worked up or cared about the notes they were laying down, and that they didn't bolt from the studio 5 seconds later and make a beeline for the bank deposit window.
This is why a nothing song can truly be worse, in a sense, than a flat-out BAD song. At least with (some) bad songs you get the distinct impression that someone really cared about what they were doing. At least with (some) bad songs you feel the passion and effort that went into making it, however atrocious the final result may be. And sometimes, amidst all the utter awfulness of a bad song, you can still catch glimmers of inspiration and creativity that nearly carry the tune and save it from outright suckiness.
Nothing songs, on the other hand, usually have no personality, charm or vitality to speak of, because they tend to be homogenized within an inch of their commercialized lives. Any and all impurities are methodically distilled out of them, and they have no real spice or spark propelling them along. Hell, they have no real reason for being at all!!! And, more often than not, the producers of nothing songs try to hide the nothing status behind immaculate production, tried-and-true chord changes or a clear, powerful singing voice. But don't be fooled! These songs are sheer black holes of sound, sucking up precious vibrations in the air.
Basically, the goal of the nothing song is to be as innocuous and inoffensive as possible while simultaneously appealing to as many people as it can reach. The end result of this delicate balancing act is usually a reasonable, but ultimately unsatisfying, aural concoction which most people describe in terms like "not bad," "is what it is," "gets the job done," or "pleasant enough."
Think about it: Do those sound like good reasons for any song to exist?
For those of you who don't know what I mean by the term "nothing song," I mean something that's even worse than bad: a nebulous ball of chords and notes with no compelling reason to exist, other than (usually) financial gain. The nothing song, as I define it, isn't bad OR good; it's just… THERE.
You've definitely heard nothing songs even if you think you haven't. Nothing songs can be competent, tuneful, pleasant, and even catchy. They often go down pretty easy. However, they also tend to be depressingly generic and nondescript. They tend to follow in the wake of hundreds (if not thousands) of songs with a similar sound before them. Simply stated, a nothing song is inoffensive enough, but you have to ask yourself while listening, "Did this REALLY need to be written? Is this adding anything important or significant to the already billions and billions of songs out there?"
And they don't have to be love ballads or soft rock songs, either. Even songs with loud, angry guitars or surly, wailing vocals can qualify for nothing-hood by virtue of their inconsequential nature.
I know what a lot of you are thinking: "You're talking about POP songs man! It's supposed to be disposable fun! Lighten up!" To which I reply, with a derisive snort, "PURE BUNK!" (Heh.) There are plenty of disposable "pop" (or "rock") songs which are fun and catchy as well as smart, unique and innovative. Just because something is classified as a "pop song" doesn't mean it gets a free pass to be non-inspiring, derivative dross.
When I hear a song, all I want is some sort of sign - however muted - that the artists involved might have actually gotten worked up or cared about the notes they were laying down, and that they didn't bolt from the studio 5 seconds later and make a beeline for the bank deposit window.
This is why a nothing song can truly be worse, in a sense, than a flat-out BAD song. At least with (some) bad songs you get the distinct impression that someone really cared about what they were doing. At least with (some) bad songs you feel the passion and effort that went into making it, however atrocious the final result may be. And sometimes, amidst all the utter awfulness of a bad song, you can still catch glimmers of inspiration and creativity that nearly carry the tune and save it from outright suckiness.
Nothing songs, on the other hand, usually have no personality, charm or vitality to speak of, because they tend to be homogenized within an inch of their commercialized lives. Any and all impurities are methodically distilled out of them, and they have no real spice or spark propelling them along. Hell, they have no real reason for being at all!!! And, more often than not, the producers of nothing songs try to hide the nothing status behind immaculate production, tried-and-true chord changes or a clear, powerful singing voice. But don't be fooled! These songs are sheer black holes of sound, sucking up precious vibrations in the air.
Basically, the goal of the nothing song is to be as innocuous and inoffensive as possible while simultaneously appealing to as many people as it can reach. The end result of this delicate balancing act is usually a reasonable, but ultimately unsatisfying, aural concoction which most people describe in terms like "not bad," "is what it is," "gets the job done," or "pleasant enough."
Think about it: Do those sound like good reasons for any song to exist?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Fallacies and Myths #1: Serious Songwriters Only Write "Serious Songs"
It seems like there are a ton of wrong-headed ideas floating around when it comes to songwriting. Some of them are more potentially damaging than others, but I believe they all inhibit the ability of artists to write the best songs they possibly can.
In fact, some of the more prevalent myths and fallacies about songwriting (and other forms of artistic expression) have become so ingrained in our culture that we just take them for granted and don't even notice them anymore.
The first step to "recovery," I think, is recognizing some of the more crippling and widely held beliefs. Hopefully, by exposing these fallacies, we can shine a little more light on their illogical or harmful nature, thereby debunking them and loosening their grip on songwriters, musicians, and listeners alike.
So let's get right to it with our first songwriting fallacy...
Fallacy #1: Serious songwriters only write/sing/play about serious things.
Hands down, this has to be one of the most wide-spread and potentially stifling beliefs out there. This is why we have so many people writing about pain and suffering and trying to sound either melancholy, enraged, or just plain "deep," even when they don't feel that way or have nothing to say about the chosen subject. Choose this route and you narrowly run the risk of lapsing into self-parody.
Somewhere along the line, pop culture gave a lot of people the idea that in order to be a real "artist" you must only concern yourself with "weighty" matters. Many people think if you don't sound like you're ready to off yourself at any second, or sing about political unrest and suffering, then you MUST be a frivolous person who has nary a thought rattling around in your hollow skull. Pure bunk.
The truth is this: The secret to being a great writer is being serious about expressing your art and your vision, NOT making "serious art" just because that's what you think you have to do.
Seriously.
In fact, some of the more prevalent myths and fallacies about songwriting (and other forms of artistic expression) have become so ingrained in our culture that we just take them for granted and don't even notice them anymore.
The first step to "recovery," I think, is recognizing some of the more crippling and widely held beliefs. Hopefully, by exposing these fallacies, we can shine a little more light on their illogical or harmful nature, thereby debunking them and loosening their grip on songwriters, musicians, and listeners alike.
So let's get right to it with our first songwriting fallacy...
Fallacy #1: Serious songwriters only write/sing/play about serious things.
Hands down, this has to be one of the most wide-spread and potentially stifling beliefs out there. This is why we have so many people writing about pain and suffering and trying to sound either melancholy, enraged, or just plain "deep," even when they don't feel that way or have nothing to say about the chosen subject. Choose this route and you narrowly run the risk of lapsing into self-parody.
Somewhere along the line, pop culture gave a lot of people the idea that in order to be a real "artist" you must only concern yourself with "weighty" matters. Many people think if you don't sound like you're ready to off yourself at any second, or sing about political unrest and suffering, then you MUST be a frivolous person who has nary a thought rattling around in your hollow skull. Pure bunk.
The truth is this: The secret to being a great writer is being serious about expressing your art and your vision, NOT making "serious art" just because that's what you think you have to do.
Seriously.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
If the Rhyme Fits, It Don't Mean Quit
Have you ever been driving along, minding your own business, lost in reverie, wondering if today is the day that your car suddenly acceleates to 120 mph on its own, when ALL OF A SUDDEN you become acutely aware of the lyrics to the song on the radio?
Sure you have. More specifically, you become aware of a line or two that makes you think, "Hmmm, I'll bet the writer only used that word right there because it rhymed." For example, you might hear something like:
A line like that, aside from being cliched and sort of banal, is one of those lines that the author probably used because it was an easy rhyme and it "fit." Sometimes writers reach for easy rhymes because they want something simple and accessible to sing, but that's a fine line to walk because if you're not saying anything at least semi-interesting, you're also flirting with being forgettable. (Have you ever tried to memorize a song made up of a bunch of strung-together cliches? It ain't that easy.)
The desired goal, at least when it comes to pop songs, is to balance the familiar, simple and common with the unique, clever and compelling. Not so easy when you think about it! So rather than immediately settling on the first words that "fit," see if you can come up with a rhyme that actually expresses what you want to say. But be careful; you don't want to replace a cliche with something that sounds forced, awkward, hokey or contrived. The ley is to actually say something intriguing while STILL being relatively straight forward and catchy. In other words, you wouldn't want to change the line to something like:
just because you're trying to be "clever." That lyric just plain sucks, in more ways then one. However, you COULD try to change the initial lyric to something like:
The words are still ordinary, everyday words, but "object" and "acquire" are used a little less frequently in pop music, and have a little extra panache. However, they still sound like something someone might actually say off the top of their head. Not only that, but now the lyric is telling us something. With just those few simple words, the listener can start getting all sorts of mental images of these characters. (The guy sounds like a douche, to me.)
This is not to say you can't play around with more exotic rhymes. It all depends on songwriting context or what sort of "feel" you're going for. Just be aware that what sounds fanciful and clever in one setting can sound awfully stodgy and stilted in another. For example, if you're going for a more literate, broadway-influenced feel, you could try something along the lines of:
but, in general, you'll want to stay away from language like "plied her" if you're writing, say, top 40 dance tunes.
I also don't mean to suggest that you can never develop a unique "voice" or use stream-of-consciousness imagery. In fact - and we should get this out of the way right now - there are ALWAYS goung to be exceptions to the "rules," but unless you're a super-genius like Mozart, it's probably a good to get an idea of what tends to work and what doesn't. It's because there IS a logic to strong songwriting that the brilliant exceptions work so well.
So take this as a general rule of thunb: Don't quickly settle on the first rhyme that pops into your head, just because it's easy and obvious. It can come across as kind of weak, and even worse, it can draw attention to itself and pull the listener out of the song. Try coming up with something equally straightforward but a little closer to what you're trying to express (and if you don't yet know WHAT you're trying to express, that's a whole 'nother issue for a whole 'nother post).
Besides, you can always go back to your original rhyme if you feel that it truly captures the thought or the passion and immediacy you were looking for. Heck, there have been many times that I've gone with a working lyric or two because the rewrites didn't quite fit the mood. Just don't be sloppy or lazy about it, because lots of lyrics you think were just "tossed off" someone's head were actually painstakingly refined for maxiumum effectiveness.
Now get back to driving. You wanna get in an accident or something? Sheeesh.
Sure you have. More specifically, you become aware of a line or two that makes you think, "Hmmm, I'll bet the writer only used that word right there because it rhymed." For example, you might hear something like:
"Oh, she was his one desire, the one who took him higher..."
A line like that, aside from being cliched and sort of banal, is one of those lines that the author probably used because it was an easy rhyme and it "fit." Sometimes writers reach for easy rhymes because they want something simple and accessible to sing, but that's a fine line to walk because if you're not saying anything at least semi-interesting, you're also flirting with being forgettable. (Have you ever tried to memorize a song made up of a bunch of strung-together cliches? It ain't that easy.)
The desired goal, at least when it comes to pop songs, is to balance the familiar, simple and common with the unique, clever and compelling. Not so easy when you think about it! So rather than immediately settling on the first words that "fit," see if you can come up with a rhyme that actually expresses what you want to say. But be careful; you don't want to replace a cliche with something that sounds forced, awkward, hokey or contrived. The ley is to actually say something intriguing while STILL being relatively straight forward and catchy. In other words, you wouldn't want to change the line to something like:
"Oh, she was his one desire, got him caught in a love quagmire..."
just because you're trying to be "clever." That lyric just plain sucks, in more ways then one. However, you COULD try to change the initial lyric to something like:
"Oh, she was his one desire, another object to acquire..."
The words are still ordinary, everyday words, but "object" and "acquire" are used a little less frequently in pop music, and have a little extra panache. However, they still sound like something someone might actually say off the top of their head. Not only that, but now the lyric is telling us something. With just those few simple words, the listener can start getting all sorts of mental images of these characters. (The guy sounds like a douche, to me.)
This is not to say you can't play around with more exotic rhymes. It all depends on songwriting context or what sort of "feel" you're going for. Just be aware that what sounds fanciful and clever in one setting can sound awfully stodgy and stilted in another. For example, if you're going for a more literate, broadway-influenced feel, you could try something along the lines of:
"Oh, she was his one desire, with roses and candy he plied her..."
but, in general, you'll want to stay away from language like "plied her" if you're writing, say, top 40 dance tunes.
I also don't mean to suggest that you can never develop a unique "voice" or use stream-of-consciousness imagery. In fact - and we should get this out of the way right now - there are ALWAYS goung to be exceptions to the "rules," but unless you're a super-genius like Mozart, it's probably a good to get an idea of what tends to work and what doesn't. It's because there IS a logic to strong songwriting that the brilliant exceptions work so well.
So take this as a general rule of thunb: Don't quickly settle on the first rhyme that pops into your head, just because it's easy and obvious. It can come across as kind of weak, and even worse, it can draw attention to itself and pull the listener out of the song. Try coming up with something equally straightforward but a little closer to what you're trying to express (and if you don't yet know WHAT you're trying to express, that's a whole 'nother issue for a whole 'nother post).
Besides, you can always go back to your original rhyme if you feel that it truly captures the thought or the passion and immediacy you were looking for. Heck, there have been many times that I've gone with a working lyric or two because the rewrites didn't quite fit the mood. Just don't be sloppy or lazy about it, because lots of lyrics you think were just "tossed off" someone's head were actually painstakingly refined for maxiumum effectiveness.
Now get back to driving. You wanna get in an accident or something? Sheeesh.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Chatting Up a Bird: The Ray Davies Songwriting Method
We're gonna be bandying about lots of original ideas here on Tune Tipster, but for our inaugural blog I thought I'd defer to one of the greatest songwriters of all time, Mr. Ray Davies of The Kinks. Whenever I'm working on a (pop) song I often think of the way Davies described his first major hit, "You Really Got Me." On more than one occasion he has likened the structure of "You Really Got Me" to the way someone tries to "chat up" a woman (or man) in a club or bar.
What did the head Kink mean by that? Well, simply put, when it comes to pop music, you quite often only have two or three minutes (if you're lucky!) to make a good impression on the listener, and you damn well better have a GREAT opening line.
Musically speaking, that is exactly what "You Really Got Me" has - a punchy opening riff that demands your attention and makes you curious about what's coming next! Think of it as meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex and starting off with a great joke. You wouldn't launch into a long, rambling tale about where you grew up and how your parents didn't love you enough. That would be crazy!
There will be plenty of time for deep stories and introspection LATER if everything goes well. The same goes for songwriting, metaphorically speaking. If you have a song with a long, moody two-minute intro that you passionately feel needs to be heard, you can put it on your first full-length album, because whoever's listening is probably already interested in what you have to say. (Think about how your poor wife or husband listens to all your inane prattling; after all, where are THEY going? Nowhere! That's where!)
However, when you're a relative unknown, you want to grab people's attention quick and give them a reason to STICK AROUND for the deeper stuff. And none of this is meant to suggest your "opening line" has to be goofy, shallow, slick, or stupid. There are many simple, direct jokes (and many simple, direct musical hooks) which hint at greater depth and complexity. That's the type of opening salvo you want to strive for: something that "really gets" the listener going.
But you gotta get someone's attention first.
What did the head Kink mean by that? Well, simply put, when it comes to pop music, you quite often only have two or three minutes (if you're lucky!) to make a good impression on the listener, and you damn well better have a GREAT opening line.
Musically speaking, that is exactly what "You Really Got Me" has - a punchy opening riff that demands your attention and makes you curious about what's coming next! Think of it as meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex and starting off with a great joke. You wouldn't launch into a long, rambling tale about where you grew up and how your parents didn't love you enough. That would be crazy!
There will be plenty of time for deep stories and introspection LATER if everything goes well. The same goes for songwriting, metaphorically speaking. If you have a song with a long, moody two-minute intro that you passionately feel needs to be heard, you can put it on your first full-length album, because whoever's listening is probably already interested in what you have to say. (Think about how your poor wife or husband listens to all your inane prattling; after all, where are THEY going? Nowhere! That's where!)
However, when you're a relative unknown, you want to grab people's attention quick and give them a reason to STICK AROUND for the deeper stuff. And none of this is meant to suggest your "opening line" has to be goofy, shallow, slick, or stupid. There are many simple, direct jokes (and many simple, direct musical hooks) which hint at greater depth and complexity. That's the type of opening salvo you want to strive for: something that "really gets" the listener going.
But you gotta get someone's attention first.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
