Music First, Or Lyrics First?

June 11, 2008

Obviously, the most powerful thing about songs, as opposed to plain music, is the marriage of music and words.

When they work in cohesion, there’s nothing more powerful.

But that doesn’t happen that often, at least in my opinion. Rock n roll with filled with fluffy lyrics that really don’t capture the life-affirming force their music is.

Most of the time, having insignificant lyrics doesn’t prevent great music from communicating its core emotion. I’m thinking of some 80’s hard rock guys — like Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.” A great, high-energy, gotta-start-dancing song, with absolutely silly lyrics whose meaning have nothing to do with that core identity of the song as a crowd pleaser. I like the song all right, but the words are something to mouth along, without really thinking about what they mean.

And therein lies another lost potential in popular music. The true power of the music remains unrealized because the lyricist really doesn’t consider what the music is telling him/her.

In songwriting, you can go about it mainly one of two ways: Music first, or lyrics first.

I can do both, but in my own songs it’s usually music first.

What I do is to carefully listen to the music and feel what it wants to say. It’s kind of vague at this point — I may not or may not have the melody, even. But I can distinguish heavy, anguished parts from soaring jubilation, for example. And then I explore words that match the mood. With some of my longer songs that take twists and turns, a song may have multiple mood or characters depending on the section.

On the other hand, if I were writing to lyrics, I do the opposite. I try to feel out how the words communicate emotions. I don’t focus on line-by-line basis, obviously, but to the whole. Then I write appropriate music that feels the same way.

Now, this is all intuitive process, so sometimes things match in a way that is surprising to even the writer. For example, my song “Throwing Away the Key,” when you look at the lyrics at first, it can be taken as a cynical song:

So you want to be in Columbus’ Sons
Kill nothing but rainbow bugs
Deliver the garbage aluminum cans
Pass on the Old Glory bags

Your son
Aimed your prize at her face
Did you learn
Her name?

So you are the righteous
There is nothing left but some games
Exploit the room for alternatives
To extremes

But really, the music is, to me, is filled with uplifting sense of joy. The song represents freedom to me, and particularly, how the guitar solo just evokes in my mind the image of running fast on a beautiful grassy field under a spotless blue sky. Or standing on the ceiling of a tall building, watching sunrise, your arms open wide, yelling “I’m glad to be alive!” (Yes, I have cinematic imagination) This jubilation foreshadows the last chorus:

Your son
Shot your prize at her face
Did you learn?

Her embrace
And forgiveness saved my life
As we wave
Goodbye

I realize it’s still rather vague here, but I see glimpses — a shooting, forgiveness, and parting ways. Not a sad goodbye, but more like getting rid of a heavy baggage and finally being free. And the song is about that burst of joy of unloading a burden. You feel light, energetic and alive, and you want to jump up and down from excitement.

That’s how the song worked for me, so I didn’t feel a conflict between words and music. It’s an unexpected marriage — I’m still not sure how they found each other — but intuitively, it works for me.

In any case, I think paying attention to the feelings behind music and words and carefully matching them result in the most powerful combo. And I bemoan the lost opportunities when songs don’t do that — when words are slapped on there, ignoring the feelings that the music communicates. I’m not saying I’m perfect. For example, in the above lyrics, I do wonder if I had a better word than “prize” in there — a better metaphor for something that shoots with intention to inflict harm, like a gun or a bow and arrow. But the marriage of words and music is my ideal, and whichever comes first, that’s what I’m striving for, in the end.

And none of my songs get out of my gate until they reach a cohesion that is good enough in my mind. Songwriters, I challenge you to do the same, in your own ways.

Otherwise, you’re letting down your own song. When it can be more.

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