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Songwriting workshop - week two

  • Mike P
  • Nov 26
  • 8 min read

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If you have yet to read over my initial essay, it is posted in the blogs here on the site. That comprised some of workshop two, so I suggest reading that as well.


What comprises a song?


In form, a song in it’s most basic of forms, is a verse and a chorus.

(Yes, it can have a bridge, an intro, outro, instrumental solo, a breakdown… but it doesn’t have to).


In my view, the verse is the exposition. The chorus is the punchline, the mission statement, the tagline on the poster. Often I want the verses to fall into the choruses, perhaps even enriching them as they go.


There are three elements in play.


Melody/Vocal line.

Chords.

Lyrics.


Any of these can be a starting point. OR, any of these can lead you from the idea into form. A song can start with a spark on any of the elements. A melody can inspire a song…


Imagine the three of these as three elements that can push and pull each other around. A change on one will affect the other. External ideas and elements can affect all of these as well.


If we consider these as three points of a triangle… move one, it is still a triangle… however, it has affected our angles at the other two points, and has changed the overall shape. If I have a four note melody, and lyrics that are machine gun paced lyrics… something has to give. If I write about a rain storm and a broken heart, then perhaps a minor key would be best to approach this, which in turn can then change our melodies.


A word on music. If you don’t play an instrument, can you write songs? Sure. Will it be infinitely easier if you do? Absolutely. As well, for the most part we aren’t going to delve into music theory and the like… there are much better teachers out there for these lessons. If you want to write songs, but don’t know what to start with: Piano is a fantastic place.

Learn your basic standard three finger chord shape, and lay on the white keys. You’re playing in C. A piano, is very visual, and unlike guitar which requires a certain amount of technique to yield a tone, a piano is pretty forgiving. Find C, F, and G… Am and Dm if you are feeling sad, and away you go. A piano, is a nice place to sit and see where your hands might land. What sounds nice?




Routines:


Some of us require a set time and space to work. Others, with practice can write anywhere. Stephen King, has a regimented writing daily schedule… and, it works for him.


Personally, my approach is that I feel that writing is a constant process. I am always listening, and collecting. There often reaches a point when the tank is full… and I have to write. Or, I have an idea that I have to chase before I lose.


When that moment hits with an idea, that is the source. That is the purest it will appear. We have a mad dash to catalog this thing… try to notate in anyway we can as much as possible so that when we return to it later, we can rekindle that flame. The idea may not be clear to us at first… but as we work it, usually a good idea attracts more. The song can grow, and hopefully even suprise us.


For some of us, the routine makes this easier. Having a fixed time to sit and work. For others, we ride the wave. For me, I try to maintain regimes around practice for piano, running scales and the like. It is about maintaining my skills, so that when a song comes, I can handle it. Running major piano scales, I can also play chords over the scales and listen for something interesting… this on it’s own can lead to a song.


A space to close the door…

albeit physically, or mentally. Our first draft, we are describing a wisp of smoke, a dream. This is not the time to invite the neighbours in… keep the door closed. Just you and the idea. Sing off key loudly without fear of judgement. Guess at chords, make bad changes, sing cringe lyrics.


Keep the opinions of others outside the door. We have been given this gift of a song, it is our place to serve it and respect it. People are going to have their ideas, let them write their own songs. This one is yours.


You can have someone in mind when you write… perhaps your ideal fan, this could be a real or imagined person. Write for you, or for them. Don’t write for everyone… you end up watering down your ideas to increase the appeal, and you end up with a compromised song…


The idea, should ideally excite you. Your inspiration may be napping on the couch, having been out all night, and complaining of a tummy ache. The idea needs to be exciting enough that your inspiration is up making coffee, ready to work. This is also where the practice we have cast comes to play… we need to have our tools sharp enough to perform the deed.


Every bad song we have written will help our skills.

At the end of the song, we may not even like it. This is okay. This is practice.

Taking words from thin air, and stapling them to a melody while floating them on chords is a slight of hand that requires work. If we view this as a craft or a skill set to develop, even bad songs are bringing us closer to our vision.


We hope that our idea serves as a magnet to draw other things in… hopefully as we push down the page, it is strong enough to attract other ideas to join in.



For me,

I often apply a ‘bonfire’ mentality.


As yard work is completed, shrubs tamed and cut away, you throw it into the burn pile… summer carries along, and the pile grows. The torn down decking. If we keep piling it up, sooner or later it has to be burnt. Sometimes… the pile is so large, we absolutely have to set it ablaze… or, in a strange act of spontaneous combustion, there’s smoke billowing. Sooner or later, if we don’t make a fire, birds and creatures will make it their home.


I collect little lyrical ideas. I collect riffs and melodies. I carry all these odds and ends around in my proverbial pocket… sooner or later, they all reach critical mass and a song forces its way up to the surface.


I have a lot of material as it is… so, this affords the benefit of waiting on the muse to drop a match on the burnpile. For me, this gathering period can last weeks, or months even. I want to allow the ideas to float along the surface, until it collects enough mass to make a nice fire.



The Editing stage will follow.


Once we have most of our structure in place, we can read from the page and see how the words stand alone. Have we unintentionally shifted perspectives or tenses? (I have been guilty of switching from “you” to “Her” interchangably in songs… eventually, this has to be decided upon for clarity). This is the point to agonize. The degree to which we agonize, is purely subjective.


Leonard Cohen, filled notebooks of verses for ‘the Future’, grinding and polishing… slaving over piles of verse, until he found the right ones. Or, we can skip the edit altogether. (I have worked both ways, and allow the material to dictate often). Because, there is a certain quality and elusiveness when we enter the realm of stream of consciousness writing. Where the right words, and imagery seem to just appear to us.


However, when our seven minute run time seems to drag on for fifteen… we can head back in. Ask what each verse means. Does the song really need it? Are we saying the same thing, just a little different… repeating ourselves?

Are the verses in the right order? This is the time.


If we haven’t already… check the key. Guitarists, capo up and see how it feels to sing. You’ll know pretty quick.


A caveat; “Room to dream”

David Lynch would often refer to this as the space you give to your audience in a film. At the end of “The Apartment” Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine sit playing cards, or the end of the “Graduate” where they run off from the wedding and sit at the back of the bus with a look to each other… this is the moment where the film ends, and what we are shown of the story ends… however, the story carries on in our heads. Lynch ended his tour de force “Twin Peaks” on an ambiguous note… a show that aired for two seasons, had a prequel film, and then returned to television 25 years later. Most creatives would have answered all the questions, tied it all up with a bow. The show “Lost” was completely enthralling when it was laying mystey at our feet… it went on for many seasons being critically acclaimed… then came the ending. The final ten minutes of the show answered everything so unsatisfyingly it managed to undo the grace it had accumulated… it would have been better off most likely being unfinished, the ending only existing as dreams.


Unless you are writing “The Gambler” or “The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald” which are like short stories, there are spaces to leave “room to dream”… this invites the listener in, and allows them to dream with us, their own minds fill in the blanks, and become closer to the song.


This can also compliment Hemingway’s “iceberg theory”, where the author knows more than they put to page. But the knowledge they have, will be shown via what lands on the page.


The songwriting game is chalk full of charlatans, they are going to try to sell you stardom. Often, we are being sold the idea that the absolute metric for success is millions of streams, plays on spotify. If this is your metric for success… you are probably not going to have a very satisfying time…There is satisfaction in the work. My overall sense is that a song that hits a large number of streams, is appealing to our egos… and that’s a dangerous game.


We stop chasing the unique aspects of our work, and serving the song… we try to serve the aquisition of likes and shares. We stop writing personally, we begin to write what we think others want to hear… in which case, we could instead be copywriting advertising briefs.



What and where to draw from.


Most likely, many of us have had relationships that have not gone well. Those who haven’t, have probably seen a relationship that did not go well. And, anyone remaining, would have seen television programs with characters in relationships that did not go well. The unrequited love song has fuelled ballads and sad country songs for decades.


Go for it. If Donna, your first kiss broke your heart, start there. Recall details that you remember that make it seem genuine. IF you need to, take the licence to blow it out of proportion. (Again, if there is no Don, Donna equivalent in your life, television has a plethora of relationships to draw upon). Maybe, change the ending. Maybe Donna hears that you think she is a shoe, and you are hopping a train that evening. Perhaps you need to say that you were wrong, but it’s too late for that now. Songwriting can be an incredibly cost-effective form of therapy. You may find that a few lines you started about Donna, has begun to shape into a new storyline, roll with it. If you need to, you can come edit later. Allow these situations to become characters that can say what you are afraid to say if you need.


Or, allow these situations to be props for our ideas. Say, you are stuck on a Christmas song… you have all the visuals in place. The snow, the cold, the short days at hand… but there’s nothing happening in it. Perhaps a line about Donna can give context to the lonely stockings hung with care. Maybe she’s late coming home from work, or perhaps her coming home is just a wish.


 
 
 

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