Random Notes & Conjectures

I guess the point of any debate about song lyrics is put into perfect perspective by a comment that constantly passes between my producer, Garrett Soden, and myself. “What’s the reason for this song? Why does it exist?”

Meaning, does the song say or offer anything new, worthwhile, insightful or inspirational?  Or is it simply self-indulgence?  (Or in its nadir, essentially not much beyond gibberish.)

Anyone can put words together without craft or thoughtful over-arching design — we do it all the time in casual conversation. Indeed, the difference between inconsequential banality on the one side, and wit and insight on the other, is largely a product of forethought, and to a lesser degree, practice.

A comon argument concerning song lyrics is to differentiate them from poetry — song lyrics, it is strongly asserted — are to be sung, not read. While there is, of course, some merit to the contention, in the end blind subscription to that idea has led us to license a continuing decline in the quality of song lyrics. In fact, when a song is so obtuse as to be pretty much indecipherable, the defense usually thrown up is that, well, these lyrics are SUPPOSED to be equivocal and/or  obscure — in this case the lyrics ARE poetry after all!… (This begs discussion on the accessibility of poetic language and writing generally: are poems which are easily understood less poetic? I think not — but there are entire libraries, English departments and careers founded on the need for analysis, decryption and “explanation” of poetry. Poems that are more quickly grasped — or, more pointedly, even comedic — don’t require such intermediation; if all poems were written by Billy Collins, known for his wit and accessibility, the need for academic parsing would be rare indeed….)

To my thinking, a song SHOULD, in most cases, be readable — be able to stand even without the complicity, assistance and benificence of the accompanying music. I hope my lyrics, even in cases where a specific reference may be obscure to a specific reader or listener, attain both resonance and insight — and if the song is obviously meant simply to entertain, actual craft.

Songs, like poems, can illuminate. And we can also infer meaning that can be substantiated — avoiding the intentionalist fallacy that what is elicited MUST be proven to be the creator’s actual intent – but such inference should reasonably be expected to derive from the actual composition, not just what we “wish” it was telling us.

In contemporary popular music, all too often the reader and listener is essentially expected to PROVIDE context, message and resolve from what is in fact little other than self-indulgent blather, or the haphazard throwing of words against the wall, hoping something sticks. Come up with a catchy guitar riff, hang a gaggle of words on it — and have a cute and manicured girl or boy sing them, with feeling….

A song should have a reason to exist, be that reason mundane or profound, comic or journalistic. If it doesn’t, frankly, why bother?….

I figure the primary reason for the ascendancy of Nashville country music is that people can understand the lyrics — get what the hell is being talked about. All too much of rock music is either unintelligible due to being drowned out by the instruments, being essentially little more than verbal nonsense — or both.

That said, the overwhelming vast majority of contemporary country songs aren’t really all that much worth listening to either — revolving around trite and pat turns of phrase, or milking the bejesus out of one minor witticism or actual insight to the point ya just wish they’d shut-the-fuck-up. (Is that all there is? That’s ALL you guys could come up with on that….?)

There’s many, many songwriters — major cultural figures America has lionized for years and even decades — who I myself have just about given up on, because they themselves have apparently given up on exhibiting any craft or self-discipline whatsoever.  If I — if we — don’t have not the foggiest clue what the writer is talking about it does NOT mean the lyrics are therefore “poetry”!  It means they’re poorly written. Conversely, not giving a flying fuck about meter, rhyme (even strained WAY “off-rhyme”), sequential coherence — all under the guise of “being true” or “writing from the gut” or “telling it like it is” or some-such, is simply self-indulgent farce. Yes, occasionally — albeit rarely – an effective song CAN be created quickly, almost purely on adrenaline and passion. But MOST times — 99.999% of the time! — dashing something off and arrogantly asserting it’s “art”, or even worth listening to, is a joke. It’s lazy and presumptuous.

Eh?…

I’d promised to write some thoughts about the large topic of lyric writing this month, but that conversation will start on February 1.  (Indeed, I’m gonna post each month’s piece during the first few days of that month from here on out. Getting into the rhythm is taking me a bit of self-adjustment.)

But now, instead and in observance of the end of the Bush-Cheney Regime, here is something a lot more serious and sobering. It’s a particularly astute overview of the eight years of this catastrophe, as assembled by Keith Olbermann at MSNBC. 

Click to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgsBX-n2whw.

Next on the agenda for those guys, let’s hope, is the International Criminal Court in The Hague, The Netherlands — public trials for war crimes, with
resultant imprisonment or death, as adjudicated.

Work continues, at it’s usual snail’s pace, on the next CD album, “Ashmore’s Store”. My producer, the great Garrett Soden, showed me an article about the creation of Paul Simon’s “Graceland”, which detailed the arduous slog putting that album together was. Simon’s poor producer, Roy Halee, actually lost count of how many cross-country flights he made, and how many zillion alternate takes he recorded (in some cases just to get a single word sang differently!) and later tossed, all to end up with recordings that sound as organic and free as can be.

We’re not quite that possessed or directionless, but we do have day jobs. So things take time. And I’m absolutely certain it’s well worth the effort and the wait. We’re creating a truly great record.

So when will y’all be able to hear and judge for yerselves?!? I’m thinking right around the beginning of March.

In the meantime, and as an “end-of-the-year-present” to all, we prepared a quick ‘n fun little adaptation of some lyrics by Thomas Pynchon, from his monumental novel “V”.

Here’s the introduction, right there on page one, chapter one of “V”:

“Christmas Eve, 1955, Benny Profane, wearing black levis, suede jacket, sneakers and big cowboy hat, happened to pass through Norfolk, Virginia. Given to sentimental impulses, he thought he’d look in on the Sailor’s Grave, his old tin can’s tavern on East Main Street. He got there by way of the Arcade, at the East Main end of which sat an old street singer with a guitar and an empty Sterno can for donations.
Profane rounded the corner. With its usual lack of warning, East Main was on him.
Out in the street a chief yeoman was trying to urinate in the gas tank of a ‘54 Packard Patrician and five or six seamen apprentice were standing around giving encouragement. The old man was singing, in a fine, firm baritone…”
(Now click here!  http://www.youtube.com/v/gmrd900uRC4&hl=en&fs=1) 

Leave a comment here below if ya wish. Love to hear from folks.

Best to everyone for a great 2009! (And goodbye George Fucking Idiot W Bush!)

[January's blog topic:  Lyrics in pop music.]

Went to a party on Election Night – about 30 people – parents, kids, dogs, straight, gay, black, Hispanic, Anglos, blondes, brunettes, and redheads – all anticipating final relief from The Idiot Bush. Akin to New Year’s Eve, it was.

I’d said to a friend a few days previous that if Obama won there would literally – literally – be dancing in streets all across America.

And I was both correct and too myopically American – ‘cause there was dancing in the streets all around the WORLD.

Sure, there were some setbacks. In California the Mormons and Catholics and Evangelicals – basically all the Tax-Free Corporate Entities pushing the old “Imaginary Friend in the Sky” scam – were able to buy a win for a truly ugly ballot measure stripping gay and lesbian folks of the right to get legally married.

(As a gay friend of mine said, “What they’re really against isn’t gay marriage at all – it’s gay sex. So they should ENCOURAGE us to get married – everyone knows sex drops off after marriage!…”)

Anyway, I admit my hopes were set unrealistically high. I was pushing for 1.) an Obama blow-out. Check. And 2.) and 3.) about 7-9 more Repubs knocked outa the Senate and 20-30 more House seats. Check and double-check.

But of course that still wouldn’t solve the problems of 30+ years of right-wing rule in this country. (Anyone  claiming Bill Clinton was any sort of “progressive” in that parade of dufuses needs a reality check. The best luck that clown ever had was being sandwiched between Bush the Elder and Bush the Twit – my GMC pick-up truck would look good as president between those bozos. No, Clinton was out for Clinton. And if that meant rolling over and collaborating – er, “compromising” – with the most pernicious Big Business and right-wing desires, so be it. The end of welfare, “Don’t ask, don’t tell”, mergers and monopolies encouraged across the spectrum – especially in media ownership – the list goes on… Hell, Scientology got tax-exempt “religion” status on his watch!)

Well – so anyway, I got Obama, the Senate and the House. But THEN, there was still had the toughest nut to crack in the wish list: my Number 4.

And Number Four was a Truly Tragic Event to happen AFTER the election. Wednesday. A traffic accident in the heart of Washington DC! During the middle of the workday! Supreme Court Justices Scalia, Alito, Thomas, and Roberts – walkin’ together to have lunch – all four of ‘em run down by an out-of-control UPS truck jumping the curb. Brakes failed. No one else injured – just those four poor Supremes. All dead. Headline: “Four Die in Tragic Accident”. So sad, so sad…..

And THAT, folks, woulda had me dancing in the street the next night as well!  

(I mean in celebration that they’d all gone to Heaven and were with God, because of their pure hearts and Christian living. Why, what’d ya think?….)

The “big push” right now has been to get the brand new electric version of “One Great Mornin’ (The South’s Gonna Rise Again)” to as many media outlets as possible, leading up to the election.  It’s got Woody Paul Chrisman (of Riders in the Sky) on fiddle, J.P.Fitting (late of Doctor Hook) on bass, Cliff Carothers (LA heavy-metal band Malice) on drums, and producer Garrett Soden on second guitar.  We finished recording in Nashville and Los Angeles in late July, and mixing in mid-August — just in time to have Mike Malloy play it on his nationally-syndicated political talk show during the Democratic National Convention.  If you haven’t had a chance to hear the song, click over to the “Listen” page and check it out.  I got an email from a guy in Birmingham saying it moved him to tears — which is exactly what I also heard from a woman in Meridien Mississippi.  An old friend in Valdosta told me she loved the song, but that I was too romantic – I’d been away too long, and didn’t realize just how hard it was to be a progressive in the South.   I know what she means – and yet, when I do go back, I see the changes, the great combination of nascent self-assertion and confidence of KNOWING that what’s been perpetrated on the South, and in the South, all these decades wasn’t good and didn’t work to working people’s benefit.  Maybe on November 4 we’ll even see a few states in Dixie flip outa the Republican column.  If so, it’ll be the beginning of that “One Great Mornin’” I see up ahead….  It’s a-comin’….