Career Songwriter

Songwriting like any other art brings with it a fair share of critics. After all, anyone can listen to a song and form an emotional opinion. In fact, music is an art that anyone can make, whether novice or experienced. Anyone can call themselves a songwriter by writing a few tunes, effective or ineffective in creating a good experience for the listener. In addition, hindsight can make some of the most memorable songs seem simple to have written. The melodic ideas are short strings of connected tones, the harmonic progressions basic root, four, five, with an occasional six minor, and the lyric phrase after phrase of everyday language we hear ourselves using in conversations and love letters. What could be so difficult about that?

Songwriting isn’t often thought of as an art to be mastered, like classical piano or upright bass. Truly remarkable artists begin with an undeniable gift, but that gift doesn’t truly shine until it is invested into with time, focus, and dedication. But in popular songwriting today, I find that the focus is nearly entirely on the gift, rather than the development of that gift. What results is a viewpoint that either a songwriter ‘has the gift’ or ‘doesn’t have the gift’, and furthermore, that each utterance from the songwriter with the gift is art worth listening to.

I write songs for two reasons: for the pleasure of writing, and for the pleasure of those listening. Sometimes I’m fortunate enough to achieve both those elements at once. But sometimes the process is slow and frustrating, and the real pleasure only comes from knowing my craft and process well enough that those listening find pleasure in my end result. Sometimes the song was pleasurable to write, but the experience of the listener fades in comparison. The truth still stands that in order to excel in my art, I need to practice my craft. Regardless of the ‘gifting’ I may or may not have started with, I take all the credit for developing it into the useful tool it is today.

As I said before, anyone can write a song, and anyone can critique a song. But that doesn’t mean we should listen to just anyone. As a songwriter reading this yourself, I strongly urge you to do the same. As a songwriter writing about songwriting, I realize that I’m a critic right now, so I urge you to sift my words as well for those ideas that ring true, and those that do not. The most valuable lesson I’ve learned as a writer over the years is that another writers’ process is not my own. Their process may serve as signposts for my own, but the more I practice my art, the more I learn to hear and trust my own instincts.

Songwriting is an art that for some comes very naturally, and for others takes a lot of practice. But until you’ve given yourself adequate time to find out how far you can develop your gift, don’t stop writing. Consider critique or feedback in context of those giving it. Some people care very much about lyrics, some don’t. Some people swear that a great melodic hook is the key to a hit song. Some think it’s all about the guitar riff, the tempo, the vocals, etc. Some have spent years in Nashville and believe that the storyline should be clear and the title apparent. Some come from a heavy metal background and believe that lyrics should be open for interpretation from the listener. The list goes on and on, but for each opinion, there is a musical context from which these preferences were formed. Allow yourself the grace to find out where your own preferences lie, and how they direct your process.

To truly call yourself a songwriter, you must write. You’ll know you’re making progress when you intentionally apply tools of the craft to achieve desired effects. You’ll know you’re excelling when the tools of the craft become instinctual, integrated into the very process you’re developing.

Many critics in my humble opinion don’t understand the level of dedication and time required to truly excel as a songwriter. To create something with intention and to do it over and over again takes immense skill that can be directed, but only truly developed through practice. If you’re in the early stages of developing your own process, I hope you find the courage to continue amidst colorful critique, both helpful and destructive. Anyone can write a song, but not anyone can create valuable listening experiences over and over again.

When I began writing songs, I remember the fear of sitting down in front of a blank page. There was a certain amount of trembling expectation, a sense of humility as I’d attempt to express myself through lyric and music. Nowadays, I still feel those same jitters, but with a great deal more foresight and confidence as I move through the writing process. Looking back, I realize it was not one moment of realization, one tool of the craft, or even one song that single-handedly sparked a growth spurt. It was the culmination of many beginnings, many first tries, failed bridges, stumped second verses, and flopped choruses that allowed me to emerge an experienced writer (who still sometimes writes failed bridges, stalled second verses, and flopped choruses).

I’ll be the first to admit there is a lot left to learn. I hope there are songs I have not yet written that will blow my other songs out of the water. I know there are ideas I have no yet had because I lack the experiences and the breadth of mind to conceive of them. But, that’s the beauty of an art that evolves as I evolve.

That said, I am sometimes asked what some of the most common pitfalls of new writers are. I’m sure the question is of particular interest so that those asking can evade the pitfalls and skip that step in the process of honing the craft. However, the most common pitfall is not writing frequently enough to understand where the other pitfalls lie, and so it’s a bit of a catch-22.

If you are writing a song a week, or at least a few songs a month, you’ll find yourself moving along a path to becoming better. Some of the scenery you might encounter along the way is generalized lyrics, strings of songs that are beginning to all sound the same, a lack of ideas, complex or difficult melodies that fall short of being memorable, disconnected harmonic progressions, etc. Which combinations of these depend on our musicality, training, our influences, our listening habits, and so on. With practice, we can improve no matter what our foundation.

But one particular pitfall I remember so clearly from my own experience (or lack thereof), had to do with the lyric content of the songs. I wrote the typical themes, love lost, love found, being the angry dump-ee, and being the self-righteous dump-er. As a whole, I suppose the lyrics weren’t particularly bad, but just not particularly memorable. The themes were universal enough, but what was missing was heart. My heart wasn’t in them. As years went by and I started writing for life events and experiences closer to me such as death in the family, or a celebratory song for a wedding, an interesting shift happened. Instead of the songs becoming less accessible because they were so much more specific to my situation, they were becoming more universal because they were specific and purposeful. It didn’t matter that my description of canning peaches as a little girl with my Grandma wasn’t a universal idea. What did matter was that by revealing personal and vulnerable details with the listener I connected us for a moment in time. I was singing about real situations, believable situations.

Now, one could argue that songs about canning peaches with my Grandma aren’t commercial. Indeed, it may not fit the mold. However, while I was writing detailed songs about my own life experiences, I was becoming fluent with a tool. I was involving words and situations I didn’t normally use in love songs, and taking risks with content beyond the ‘we met, we got married, we had a child’ formula. Eventually, that tool became a part of my process without my having to consciously think about its use. That’s the whole point with studying a songwriting process and gaining new tools. The tools themselves are merely vehicles for getting where we want to go. We’ll employ different tools in different songs, depending on what we need to accomplish.

Whatever pitfalls that keep us all from writing what we feel are our greatest songs, all can be conquered or at least minimized by exercising our writing muscle. Write often, and write without hesitation.

Last week I began a series called ‘While You Are Writing’, in which I offer up a few business and creative activities to grow your songwriting career. Here are a few more suggestions, and feel free to add in your own this week as opportunities present themselves.

Business: Buy one new record in the genre of music in which you write. Find a quiet place and listen to the record in its entirety. Read the label notes and familiarize yourself with the songwriters. Find 30 minutes and research those writers on the internet and find out what other songs they’ve recorded. Read any other biographical information you can on those writers, such as how they got started and the publishers or labels to which they were signed.

Craft: Try writing some simple choruses, such as 4-line or 6-line, repeating the title in the first, middle, and/or last line. Don’t concern yourself with verse sections just yet, but work from some of the title ideas you sifted from your newspaper/magazine/book resources from last week. Try to write 2 or 3 choruses, music and lyric. Record a rough work tape of each as a simple guitar/vocal or piano/vocal.