Writing Better Lyrics Read online

  And I couldn't help but think of the way things used to be

  She was the one that I'd wanted for all times

  And each night I'd spend prayin' that God would make her mine

  And if he'd only grant me that wish I'd wished back then

  I'd never ask for anything again

  Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

  Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

  That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care

  Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

  She wasn't quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams

  And I could tell that time had changed me in her eyes too it seemed

  As she turned and walked away I looked at my wife

  And recognized the gift I'd been given in my life

  Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

  Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

  That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care

  Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

  Very effective movement.

  Okay, you caught me. I lied. The original version of the lyric that I gave you isn't the way the song was recorded. They did try to do it as verse / verse / chorus / verse / chorus / bridge / chorus, but it made the song, in Pat Alger's words, “feel too long.” Another way of saying the song sagged, and listeners would lose interest. So what did they cut out?

  Here's their solution, as recorded by Garth Brooks:

  Just the other night at a hometown football game

  My wife and I ran into my old high school flame

  And as I introduced them the past came back to me

  And I couldn't help but think of the way things used to be

  She was the one that I'd wanted for all times

  And each night I'd spend prayin' that God would make her mine

  And if he'd only grant me that wish I'd wished back then

  I'd never ask for anything again

  Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

  Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

  That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care

  Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

  She wasn't quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams

  And I could tell that time had changed me in her eyes too it seemed

  We tried to talk about the old days, there wasn't much we could recall

  I guess the Lord knows what he's doin' after all

  And as she walked away I looked at my wife

  And then and there I thanked the good Lord for the gifts in my life

  Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

  Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs

  That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care

  Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

  They left out the second chorus and went immediately to the bridge — an unusual formal move, especially in commercial music. But it works; both choruses shine, and we stay interested in the song all the way through.

  Keeping the bridge gives the music a chance to breathe, since the verse lines are long and the tempo is slow. Creating a contrasting section helps the overall flow of the song. The formal risk pays off, creating interest and contrast at the same time. Put this move in your toolbox. It could come in handy.

  Of course, there are no rules. The solution to the question “Where do I go now?” changes with every song. Sometimes it's even the wrong question. Just because you wrote a verse first doesn't mean it's the first verse. Instead of asking “Where do I go now?” it may help to ask “Where did I get here from?” Get used to juggling and trying new things.

  EXERCISE 11

  Here's your assignment: Write three verses, each one ending with the line ashes, ashes, all fall down. (Call the line a refrain, because it's a part of the verse rather than a separate section.) You're writing a three-system song: verse / refrain / verse / refrain / verse / refrain.

  Each verse / refrain system should advance the story line to the next place. Certainly ashes, ashes, all fall down has the element of childhood games in it. But where else could it go?

  As a child, he sang in a circle with his playmates.

  He volunteered to serve his country in the Great War. In the trenches, he suffered from shell shock and battle fatigue.

  ?

  Maybe do some research on World War I and life in the trenches, looking for images and words that work both for childhood and for the war. Do some object writing to get something from your own sense pool. Try to see each idea you find as a metaphor for other parts of the lyric. For example, falling down certainly can go beyond the childhood game. Childhood dreams can fall. So can innocence. Bombs, rockets, and soldiers, too. What else?

  Try to find ideas for the first box first, the childhood section. Then the second box, from the giggling child to the ashen face of the shell-shocked soldier, the dust from the rockets and gunpowder. Then find an angle for the third section — it shouldn't be too difficult. He certainly could tumble like a child whenever a door slams.

  Go ahead and write the whole lyric. Remember that each verse should have its own job to do. Make the third box gain weight. Above all, take your time. This is a process. Enjoy it.

  LINES WITHIN LINES

  Generally speaking, as you write a song, you should be keeping your eyes peeled for something you can repeat. Something catchy or emotional. Something profound or funky, or something beautifully said. Something people might sing along to.

  So how do you know what to repeat? Maybe the words just feel good in your mouth. Maybe there's a lot of internal sound making it easy and fun to sing, such as:

  Peaceful, easy feeling

  There can be many reasons to repeat a line or a section, but let's take a look at one big one: The words we repeat stay interesting when we say them again. They gain something more when we repeat them, even gain something more because we repeat them.

  Of course, that was the whole message of the boxes: Keep your listeners interested and engaged all the way through the song. You already know that the chorus should mean more the second time around. You're already a responsible citizen in the world of chorus repetition. You already practice productive repetition.

  The second chorus of “Strawberry Wine” weighs more than the first chorus, because the second verse adds the weight of a fleeting summer romance to the first verse's picture of love on the riverbank. As we sing along, we feel something more than we did the first time. Productive repetition.

  The second refrain of “Still Crazy After All These Years” adds the weight of cynicism and denial to the encounter with an old lover in verse one. We learn more about what kind of crazy he is, and how deep it runs. Productive repetition.

  When we hear the repeated first verse at the end of Suzanne Vega's “Luka” or Joni Mitchell's “Roses Blue,” we feel much more, having learned about the characters through the course of the songs. We know Luka's plight, though we didn't understand it the first time. We finally see the singer's predicament at the end of “Roses Blue.” Productive repetition.

  In each case, the repetition is productive because it gives the words more weight the second and third times than they had the first time. That's something useful. It keeps your listeners interested all the way through the song, and maybe even singing along.

  Repetition can work on smaller scales, too. Not just when you repeat a section or a line, but inside a line itself.

  Watch this, from Joni Mitchell's “Roses Blue”:

  In sorrow she can lure you

  where she wants you Inside your own self-pity there you swim

  In sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you

  And only with your laughter can you win

  Can you win? Can you win?

  In the last two lines, by simply isolating and repeating a portion
of the line, can you win, she moves from a declarative sentence into a question, creating new energy and adding a new idea — in this case, the character's uncertainty whether winning (laughter) is possible.

  Think of it as hunting for hidden treasures. Learn to start looking at sentences not just for meaning, but for little pieces of meaning that can be isolated and repeated, giving additional information or emphasis.

  Look at this question:

  Who do you love?

  It starts with one of the interrogative pronouns (who, what, when, where, why, how). It also contains the auxiliary verb do. What if you drop who? It becomes:

  Do you love?

  Now you've got a brand new question. Simply repeat that smaller piece:

  Who do you love? Do you love?

  You've isolated a part of the sentence and repeated it, giving a new meaning. You can do it with the other interrogative pronouns, too:

  What do you love? Do you love?

  When do I love? Do I love?

  Where do you go? Do you go?

  Why do you laugh? Do you laugh?

  How do you know? Do you know?

  The auxiliary verb do can also introduce a question. That's what makes it work. You can do the same thing with the past and future tense, did and will:

  Who did you love? Did you love?

  What did you try? Did you try?

  When did I know? Did I know?

  Where did you go? Did you go?

  Why did you laugh? Did you laugh?

  How did you know? Did you know?

  Who will you love? Will you love?

  What will you try? Will you try?

  When will I know? Will I know?

  Where will you go? Will you go?

  Why will you laugh? Will you laugh?

  How will you know? Will you know?

  How about the subjunctive (can, could, should, would) with the interrogative pronouns? Simply delete the pronoun:

  Who can you love? Can you love?

  Who could you love? Could you love?

  Who should you love? Should you love?

  Who would you love? Would you love?

  (I'll leave it to you to fill out the other interrogative pronouns.)

  You can find lots of opportunities for productive repetition. It's easy if you stay alert, as Joni Mitchell did when she discovered a question inside a statement:

  And only with your laughter can you win

  Can you win? Can you win?

  Declarative sentences (or “statements”) often can be easy prey for productive repetition. If the subject of the sentence is you, and the verb is present tense, there's usually a command (imperative) lurking, waiting to be isolated:

  You tell me that you want me.

  Just delete the subject, isolating the verb, and presto, you have yourself a command:

  Tell me that you want me.

  And even:

  Want me.

  Note that this trick doesn't work in third person, since third person adds an s to the verb. You create only simple repetition — no command is isolated: She tells me that she wants me. Tells me that she wants me. Wants me.

  Try it with:

  You give me everything I need.

  It becomes:

  Give me everything I need.

  You can isolate commands from questions using second-person direct address. For example:

  Will you love me?

  Love me.

  Whenever you are working with present-tense verbs, look for the opportunity to repeat, starting from the verb, to create a command. Remember that this technique only works in first person and second person, not third person.

  With past-tense or future-tense verbs, you can use the infinitive (to) form of the verb, so the verb can be isolated, creating a present-tense command:

  Did (past) you want to win my heart? Win my heart.

  He loved (past) to walk alone. Walk alone.

  Won't (future) you try to walk alone?

  Try to walk alone.

  Walk alone.

  Neat, huh?

  When you move from one type of sentence to another, you create an energy boost that takes the emotion to a new level. It's just as a matter of practice. When you're writing a song, stay alert for chances to ask a question or give a command. It'll engage your listeners.

  In general, be alert to the smaller grammatical units in your lines.

  Sometimes they can do something really special.

  Do something really special.

  Would you like to be a better writer?

  Be a better writer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  VERSE DEVELOPMENT AND POWER POSITIONS

  Boxes represent the movement of ideas. They are form neutral. A series of three boxes can represent almost any formal movement:

  verse / chorus / verse / chorus / bridge / chorus

  verse / refrain / verse / refrain / bridge / verse / refrain (AABA)

  verse / pre-chorus / chorus / verse / pre-chorus / chorus / bridge / chorus

  verse / chorus / verse / chorus / verse / chorus

  Boxes only show how the ideas evolve, regardless of the specific form you use. In this chapter, we'll look a little closer at the responsibility your verses have in making your boxes gain weight.

  Think of your verses as colored spotlights. They shine their lights on their chorus or refrain. If two verses project exactly the same color, their choruses will look the same. If they project different or deeper colors, the choruses will look different.

  When you keep your verses interesting and keep your idea moving forward, you'll have little trouble lighting up your chorus or refrain in different ways. You don't have to use formulas. You don't have to introduce a whole new cast of characters. You just have to pay attention.

  Let's look at the verse development in Beth Nielsen Chapman's “Child Again.” Each verse projects a deeper color on its chorus, enlarging our way of seeing it, keeping it interesting. We'll look at two areas of this lovely lyric:

  Its use of repetition: Because of strong verse development, the chorus becomes a deeper and more interesting color each time we see it.

  Its power positions light up the chorus with the right color from the right angle to put crucial ideas in the strongest focus.

  Here is the full lyric of “Child Again”:

  Verse 1

  She's wheeled into the hallway

  Till the sun moves down the floor

  Little squares of daylight

  Like a hundred times before

  She's taken to the garden

  For the later afternoon

  Just before her dinner

  They return her to her room

  Chorus

  And inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Like a child again

  Verse 2

  The family comes on Sunday

  And they hover for a while

  They fill her room with chatter

  And they form a line of smiles

  Children of her children

  Bringing babies of their own

  Sometimes she remembers

  Then her mama calls her home

  Chorus

  And inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Like a child again

  Bridge (duet)

  It's raining it's pouring

  It's raining

  The old man is snoring

  Come out and play with me

  Bumped his head on the edge of the bed

  And bring your dollies three

  And he never got up in the morning

  Climb up my apple tree

  Rain rain go away

  Slide down my rain barrel

  Come again another day

  Into my cellar door

  Little Johnn
y wants to play

  And we'll be jolly friends

  Some more

  Forever more

  Chorus

  And inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Like a child again

  First Verse Focus

  The first verse contains three scenes, each one showing the old woman being taken somewhere. She is physically helpless, a focus firmly established right away:

  She's wheeled into the hallway

  Till the sun moves down the floor

  Little squares of daylight

  Likes a hundred times before

  This helplessness is reiterated by the following two scenes:

  She's taken to the garden

  For the later afternoon

  Just before her dinner

  They return her to her room

  These scenes color the first chorus with helplessness. We see her helpless in the nursing home, being taken everywhere, but the chorus tells us:

  Inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Inside her mind

  She is running in the summer wind

  Like a child again

  We enter the chorus knowing her situation, and we are swept back to a time when she was running in the summer wind / Like a child again.

  Since the verse puts her in a wheelchair, being taken and returned, we can't help but see running as a contrast. We interpret the chorus in the light of the verse.

  Second Verse Focus

  The second box turns the color of her relatives:

  The family comes on Sunday

  And they hover for a while