"Time management" is a phrase you hear used all the time
as a core principle for good business practice. It is also as core principle for maximizing the
impact of your songs, but with an entirely different meaning.
Music, by its very nature, moves in 4 dimensions: Melodies move up and down in
pitch. The phrases move forward,
building tension toward release and resolution. They move closer to and farther away from the ear as the
dynamics grow loud and soft. They
move through time with rhythm. It
is usually easy to incorporate all four dimensions into the music of a song,
because they are inherent components of music itself.
But when it comes to the lyrics, you're starting out with a
dimensionless idea, an abstract concept that you have to fill with image,
meaning, motion, and emotion. It's
a much more difficult task to think in 4-dimensional words, and thus, songs are
often stuck in a one or two dimensions, when there are really four that you can
use to create a memorable experience for your listeners.
Steven Pinker, one of my favorite authors on the relationship
between words and meaning, in his book "The Stuff of Thought: Language
as a Window Into Human Nature,
discusses the importance of our perception of 3-dimensional space
(height, width, depth) and its influence on how we use and perceive verbs.
A brief review from one of everyone's favorite topics in school,
Geometry:
Space is typically represented in 3 dimensions: horizontal/width (x-axis); vertical/height (Y-axis); and proximity/depth (z-axis). We can see think, and move along each of these, with lots of
words and metaphors to help us along the way. These find their way into songs, but are often focused
on just a single dimension, because the more dimensions that are encompassed by
the lyrics, the harder it is to write clearly and effectively and to fit the
necessary words into the song.
It is also more difficult to actually write about moving along a dimension than it is to
just refer to it while standing still,
Consider:
"I'm standing
here alone, I see the mountain there in the distance
I want to
get back home, want to be there in an instant
It's so
far, so far, so far away
But I know I'll
get back someday
This refers to distance (z-axis) and height (y-axis), but there is no motion. The singer (and the
listener!) are rooted in one place.
This is not particularly exciting (or moving) for the listener. Consider this re-write:
Moving closer to the mountain, I
begin to make the climb
Getting closer to my home now, been gone too long a time
Though far and high, from dusk till
dawn,
I'm getting closer, pressing on.
Now we're getting someplace.
The listener is being brought along by the singer on a journey. It's better, but still missing
something. Let's look at
some examples of x-y-z- hit songs:
The 1973 classic
"Stuck in the Middle With You" is an example of an X-axis song (horizontal, left/right
space), written by Gerry Rafferty & Joe Egan of the band Stealers Wheel):
"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,
Here
I am, stuck in the middle with you."
The
many songs written about driving along a road, walking a path, or riding on a
train are x-axis songs.
The
y-axis is the vertical one that orients us to us up and down. Everyone was lifted up in 1967
by the 5th Dimensions' top ten hit "Up Up and Away" by songwriting
great Jimmy Webb. The title/hook
is in and of itself, a trip along the Y-axis. The
Wicked Witch of the West takes us all into the air with "Defying
Gravity" from the musical "Wicked" by Stephen Schwartz. Johnny Cash took us "down,down,
down" as
he "fell" into a Ring of Fire". The Byrds took us (metaphorically)
"Eight Miles High" while the Drifters took us (literally) "Under
the Boardwalk".
For a
ride along both the X-axis and the
Y-axis , look at Diana Ross' biggest hit as a solo artist "Upside
Down", written by Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers:
"Upside
down Boy, you turn me
Inside
out and round and round"
Looking
at the entire lyric, it's actually a very mediocre song from the craft
perspective, but was made into a #1 hit
in 1980 by the star power of the artist and the intricate
production. Not great songwriting,
but it does make use of our 3-dimensional thinking:
Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" is a Z-axis hit song (near/far
perspective) written by band members Rushton Moreve & John Kay
"Any place it goes is right
Goes
far, flies near ,To the stars, away from here"
Another
z-axis example is the folk standard "Five Hundred Miles". Songs about moving nearer to or farther from
something are usually z-axis songs.
Writer Dorothea
Joyce metaphorically takes us in several directions with her 1971 hit (recorded
ironically by the 5th Dimension) "Love Lines, Angles, and Rhymes":
Love leads the
lines of love in circles and angles
Love runs deep
like a tunnel with a pendulum beat
That touches
the heart in many directions
Moving the
mind in silent reflections
Of the lines
that touch the corners and fibers
Of the feeling
that keeps running inside you
The technique of
providing x-y-z- motion for the listener is clearly important, but when it
comes to writing a truly great song,
it is quite secondary to what comes next:
the fourth dimension, time.
When
it comes to time, we don't often think about it with the same sense of motion and
perspective, because we don't see it directly like height, width and depth, and
we don’t feel the motion kinesthetically.
Movement through time is implied and inferred by changes in distance,
age, appearance, circumstance, etc.
Thus, it is more difficult to get all the necessary information into the
compact form of a lyric line. Yet
it means so much to the listener to have that fourth dimension in a song, that
we need to try.
Writing
about time
is not the same as writing about motion through time. There are clearly many songs about time: "Time Is on My Side", "Time in a
Bottle", "Six O' Clock",
"No Time Left For You", "Nine to Five", "Beat
the Clock", "Can't Find the Time to Tell You", and so many more;
But these songs do not use time as a dimension in which the listener moves. They are about time, not moving through time. It's the equivalent of writing a song about up and down, without actually moving
the listener
up and down.
A key
point here is that an x,y, or z-axis song when conveying motion, may imply time as well. If the axis has a specific and
fixed reference point (a home, a person, an event, a location) that you are getting closer to or
farther from, there is distance involved and it takes time to traverse distance
(remember your basic concepts of that Physics class you daydreamed your way
through).
Edwin
Starr's 1969 hit "Twenty-Five Miles" has the singer moving closer and closer to his
destination (z-axis) but we clearly experience time passing as well. The 1994 Rascal Flatts hit
"The Broken Road" (Hummon/Boyd/Hanna) has the singer moving along the road of life toward
a person, and thus we experience time.
It is
possible to have no x-y-z- motion but still move through time. Movement through time can be in the
form of changes in age and circumstance, neither of which need to involve
x-y-z- motion. A tree
growing, ivy covering a wall, a graduation, or a gravestone all
convey lots of time-related information.
So
what it all comes down to is this:
As discussed in Chapter 9
of Songcrafters'
Coloring Book,
there are two basic song formats: list songs and story songs.
If
you recall the Listener Response Matrix from Chapter 5
Songcrafters' Coloring Book,
the most difficult song presentation to write effectively is the
story-song. However, it is the
format that has the widest appeal, the greatest impact, and the best chance of
having a long life. The reason
that a story-song is more difficult to write is that it must have a clear flow of time. It can be forward, flashback, fast, slow, etc, but time
must move. Given from the above discussion
that time is the most difficult dimension to effectively include in a song, it
becomes clear why most songs are not story-songs and thus do not have the full
impact of really great songwriting.
Consider
which experience you would prefer to have: Someone talking to you for four minutes, telling you of
months or years worth of experiences, or someone talking to you for four minutes
telling you about how they feel in one single moment that you know nothing
about. Which is the greater bang
for the buck (the "buck' being the four minutes of your life that you have
invested in listening). In the
first case you get more than four minutes worth of someone's life experience to
add to your own. Whether or not it is interesting or relevant is a different
matter altogether – that is up to the storyteller (songwriter) to make it interesting and relevant to
you. In the second case, you
spent four minutes hearing someone talk about one second that never moved. While it is possible for that
moment to merit being expanded 240 times beyond reality (four minutes is 240
seconds), most songwriters have
neither the moment nor the craftsmanship to make it worth your while as a
listener (and as a paying customer).
The
lower left section of the Listener-Response Matrix (attitudinal songs that only
seek to evoke a transient feeling) may go something like:
I
saw you there, my heart stopped.
My
world is frozen and I'm thinking
of you.
I'm
hot, you would love me and I would make it worth your time
I'm
better than she is, you know it's true,
Give
me a look give me a sign
And
I'll be there and you'll be mine
Oh
I'm burnin' Oh I'm yearnin'
I'm
turnin' into being into you…
This
type of lyric is very common, but it leaves the listener with so many
unanswered questions – who are these people, where are they, what's the
attraction, what's the backstory, what is going to happen, where are they in a year from now, why is this relevant to me? This may be fun for a singer to sing, perhaps fun to see in
live performance with lots of emoting in tight stage outfits, but it is
unlikely for this to have a long life as a classic song that hundreds of other
artists would want to record. It
is not worth a listener giving up 240 times as much of themself as it gives
back. With a some additional
effort on the part of the songwriter to answer all of the above questions, this
could instead be told as an actual story where the listener is led through the
experience over a period of time, and thus is more likely to find points of
relevance to relate to.
(See Songcrafters Coloring Book Chapter 16)
A
story-song is essentially a short movie.
It uses all the cinematic and storytelling techniques of great directors
and authors – characters, backstory, scene changes, camera angles, close-ups,
establishing shots, tension, climax, and a treatment of time.
One
of the great songwriting examples of taking a short amount of time, perhaps a
minute or two, and turning it into a five-minute song that is worth the
expansion, is Harry Chapin's "30,000 Pounds of Bananas" . Based on
news accounts of the actual event, it takes the last minute of life of a truck
driver as he hurtles out of control down a hill with no brakes and a load of
bananas. The song lives on
more than four decades later.
In
your own writing, when you think you are "done", ask yourself how (or
"if") you have treated the flow of time in your song. Most importantly, make sure you clearly
see the difference between actually moving through time as opposed to just
talking about time.
Consider
this exceptional lyric from master songwriter Randy Edelman (I recommend that
you add it to your collection of downloads).
Thirty
Years Old (Mom)
My
head leaves the pillow, I know I
must move on
I've
lived all my life here, but the time's almost gone
I
don’t want to leave her, she's
begged me to stay
But
I'm thirty years old Mom today
I
put on my jacket, she hears that
I'm awake
She
calls from the kitchen, as I smell the cake
She
lights all the candles and makes sure I pray
But
I'm thirty years old Mom today
I've been reading books, but now I want to see the world at
first hand
I've been taking looks
around, now I'm gonna show where I
stand
I've been too locked up to give
my heart half a chance
See, your baby has grown, it's
time he left home…
She
wanted to have me close by her side
But
the years have stacked up now, God knows, I've tried
She
wanted to know I was down the hallway,
But
your baby's grown up Mom today
I
didn’t look back as I closed the old porch door
I
wanted no tears from that face I adore
But
there's dreams I've been dreaming, and songs I must play
And
I'm thirty years old Mom today.
This
song clearly has motion through time BUT, when I ask folks at my workshops
"What is the span of time that this song encompasses?", most people
quickly answer
'thirty
years' or 'a lifetime'. The song refers to thirty years, but the actual amount of time that the listener
moves through is really just an hour, plus or minus. It runs from the time the singer wakes up, gets dressed, has
some cake, and then finally leaves the house. That is the time span of the song.
It moves in a forward direction at an even pace, marked by event mileposts (waking,
dressing, eating, leaving).
The mastery of the craft here is that in the 3 minutes of the song, we
have spent an hour with the singer, and in that hour, we have shared his whole
life – his past, his present, and his hopes for the future. This is what makes great storytelling
and thus great songwriting.
Songs
do not have to be complex to handle time effectively. Here is a simple lyric from the Hollies 1966 #5 hit "Bus Stop" (G. Gouldman):
Bus
stop, wet day, she's there, I say
"Please share my umbrella"
Bus
stop, bus go, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella
All
that summer we enjoyed it, wind
and rain and shine
That
umbrella, we employed it, by August she was mine.
Here
in four lines, we travel through about three months of time, at two different
rates. Lines 1 and 2 recount a brief initial interaction that leads to a
budding romance.
Lines
3 and 4 take us through months to the end of summer where the romance has
blossomed into love. An
amazing amount of information conveyed in four simple lines. That is the craft of storytelling and
the challenge of great songwriting.
Here
is another great example:
Longer (Dan Fogelberg)
Longer
than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you.
Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you.
I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings.
Through the years as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I'll be in love with you.
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you.
Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you.
I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings.
Through the years as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I'll be in love with you.
At
first glance it seems like a simple love song in list format. But lets look closer at how a master
storyteller subtly takes your through the better part of a lifetime:
Longer
than there've been fishes in the ocean Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens I've been in love with you
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens I've been in love with you
The use of the Present
Perfect verb tense here says that "For an ongoing time in the past I have
been in love with you".
Stronger than any mountain cathedral Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval I am in love with you.
Stronger than any mountain cathedral Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval I am in love with you.
The verb tense changes
to present-tense "am",
meaning right now, i.e. as we
arrive from the past into this moment,
I still love you.
I'll bring fire in the winters You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers With love on our wings.
I'll bring fire in the winters You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers With love on our wings.
Now we move forward beyond this moment with verbs in future tense. As we travel through the years ahead (presented by the four seasons) we will continue to be in love with each other.
Through the years as the fire starts to mellow burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow I'll be in love with you.
This now bring us to the
twilight of life after having spent years together that have written a life
story. There is pluperfect verb
use, and we still look forward with future tense saying "I'll be in love
with you".
Overall, this takes us
through a lifetime of love, with subtle change of tense and metaphorical
signposts, always making clear where we are. The first verse reaches backwards,
the second verse is present, and the bridge and third verse move along a future
path. A great handling of time
that makes an ordinary love song become something extraordinary.
In such a competitive
music world, it is a losing proposition to just write a love song. It has to be
an exceptional love song to get any traction.
Finally, let's look at a
great example of moving through time with no other x-y-z motion at all.
Old Stone (by
Kay Pere)
Old gray stone
How long have you
been balanced
While the lichens
grow
In symbiotic
decadence
In your mossy robe,
Do you still recall
the span
Of callused hands
That pulled you from
the ground
Old Stone, silence unbroken
Speak to me with
wisdom unspoken
Old stone wall
How long have you
been standing
While the wild ferns
grow
And violets nod
their deference
To the things you
know
Lessons learned
While seasons turned
Three-hundred times
around.
Old Stone, Silence
unbroken
Speak to me
Old stone house
How long have you
been watching
While the crops
won't grow
And autumn snow
descends
A shallow well soon
frozen
Hard as quartz
Heavy hearts
Pray comfort can be
found
Old Stone, Silence
unbroken
Here,
we have a story-song about a lifeless inanimate object. Yet, the storytelling from this
New England writer is masterful, with a sweeping journey through more than 300
years, conveying the arrival of settlers to a virgin land who started tilling
soil and farming, then building stone walls to define farm boundaries, and houses that withstand bitter
New England winters. The only
motion is through time, using age, and the change of an object's environment
and location as signposts. This could
easily be rendered as video watching a patch of land evolve over the centuries
(if there were cameras that long ago…) condensed into a four-minute
presentation. All the visual
elements are there.
When
the handling of time is done with great attention to detail, a song needs
little else to connect with listeners and have impact.
To
summarize:
To
maximize the impact of your songs, and thus their artistic and commercial
potential,
a
most effective technique is to provide motion for the listener through time, in
a clear way that conveys lots of information about who, what,where, when, what,
how. It's a challenge that
can seem daunting, which is why many writers turn away from the task. If you are one of the few who work to
see it through, you will have a great advantage by having a better end-product
in a very competitive market.
©Copyright
2012 Bill Pere. All Rights
Reserved.