The Four Song Day

Today has been a very productive day, in that I've written four songs. Now, that sounds impressive at first (and it is - this productivity is nearly unprecedented for me, unless you count the week I wrote five string quartet arrangements in five days, including one also for horns and two guitars). But "writing a song" usually doesn't mean starting from scratch.

My files are filled with little pieces of melodies, choruses, song structures, phrases, and other notes. Usually in writing a song one element shows up, goes into a few other elements, and after awhile a song develops. Sometimes I can compose a full melody and chords to a song in thirty minutes if I'm working very consciously and paying close attention to rhythmic and note values. But it's not really a complete song until I've attached passable lyrics. Note, passable - they don't have to be great, and nothing has to be final. But until there is some sort of marriage of words and music, it's not a song, it's still an idea. Today was productive because after revisiting some old correspondence I'd had with a friend, I found myself moved to finish a number of songs, so I did. I expect a few of them will suck tomorrow, but at least one is very good and I'm sure another will be on the way. Three were from existing material and one was thrown together from scratch.

One in particular, tentatively titled "Post-Post Mills" seems to be the keeper of the four. It's kind of in the style of Bruce Hornsby, but more than that it's in some ways a sequel to another song of mine, "Anatomy." They're both in the same key (G), they begin with the same chords (G, Gsus2/B, Csus2), and the melody starts on the same two notes and two beats. They're also about the same people, and deal with similar subject matter, albeit very differently. In advance of any allegations I'll say outright that I troped a lyric from my apartment mate, Dave McNamara. I wrote strings for his new EP, Kid Twist (out soon! Stay posted!) and my favorite line from that is "We age with time / You said you just can't combine your life with mine." So I felt it necessary to include in my own song, "I can't combine / the ways you live your life and I'll end mine."

I suppose what's been most surprising to me as a songwriter is that I've discovered that the more detached and objective a writer I become, the more emotional and involved my songs appear to be. For years I operated under the myth that emotional writing took place when one was emotional, that one didn't enjoy the writing of it and that one had to be feeling it as one put it down. More and more I find that emotional writing requires me to draw from an experience without really opening it up, and that I write my most sincere, brutal work when I'm actually feeling pretty good. Today, for instance, I found myself re-reading old ichat conversations with an ex-lover, and for whatever reason I found myself not depressed but thrown into an excellent mood. This excellent mood continued as I wrote a song that, if my interpretation is right, alludes to suicide a few times. And I felt great afterwards, too. While the song itself was bleak, spiteful, and resentful, I found myself feeling optimistic, open, and giving at the end of it. On the many occasions that I've written songs from an emotional place while feeling very biting emotions, they've tended to be dirges - not the type of music I would want to listen to. So, go writing! Not nearly as miserable as people sell it.

The other day was pretty productive as well, as I got to sketch out song feel and structure for two of Madison's songs. She's going off to Spain in October and in May when she gets back we're going to head into the studio. Working with Madison is probably the easiest of any client I've had to work with - there's absolutely no need for diplomacy or figuring out each other's wavelengths, or even having to reword things. It's simply idea-another idea-go, and in thirty minutes we're done. Which is how it should be done. You can hear in music when it sounds like people really had to work to communicate ideas, and when they just bounced back and forth. Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill, which was written with Glen Ballard (who has written, it should be noted, every song ever written), was famously written in a few sittings, with many of the vocal takes being taken straight from the demos and improvisations they recorded, and I think it's clear that the songs, whatever their imperfections, come across as stronger and more complete than more perfectly sculpted songs that were crafted over time. I'm hoping Madison's record preserves that type of spontaneous feel.

Oh, and she let me transform her slow, 6/8 ballad into a rolling disco/philly soul dance song with motown strings. Score!

What else is new? Plenty, I suppose. For now, I'm going to state three non-career goals for this upcoming school year. 1) Work out regularly with Matt, because if he can gain 20 pounds of muscle after being my weight his whole life, so can I, damnit. 2) Learn passable French. All part of my plan to win her back. 3) Learn how to become a happier, more optimistic person. See second half of number 2 for details.