Have you ever scanned the titles of an album, CD or cassette and decided according to the titles whether to buy it? And have you ever told a friend you just heard a song about such n' such on the radio? Subject matter matters. In films, no one would pitch an idea that was just one more story about a guy who gets the girl, loses her and gets her back. That may be what it's ultimately about, but that's not the pitch. Similarly, a song needs to come at the same old subject from a different angle. And a different subject altogether can sometimes be even more refreshing.
The ability to find subjects to write about never seems to be as hard for novelists or short story writers. Maybe that's because they're not steeped in the moon-June tradition of ancestral clichés like songwriters are. Memorable songs throughout history have always come at something from a little different angle. "Stardust"..."Yesterday"..."Heartbreak Hotel"..."Good Morning Heartache"...these songs are all songs about lost love, but they don't say it in an ordinary way. As Nik Venet says, they take common themes and say them in an uncommon way. He further urges his writers, "The important thing for a songwriter is not to write songs that songwriters are doing already, a little better or a little worse, but to write those songs that at present are not being written." When you hear the writers he works with, you find just that.
Robert Thornburg writes about being alone at the same restaurant he used to frequent with an old girlfriend ... "Sunday Brunch/table for one/on the patio/In the sun/Huevos Rancheros/pitcher of beer/not much has changed/since we were here/same waitress/same menu/same public address/party of four/party of two...A seagull/in an azure sky/snatches a duckling by the neck/and flies/to the rusty railroad bridge for...Sunday brunch...."
Ernie Payne writes "I was born on Coercion Street/rocks and bottles and fists and feet/ruled the path I daily climbed/all up hill/all of the time." His conclusion is succinct: "Barstool, church pew, handshake, clenched fist/I made my choices, aware of the risks/Street muscle, blue shuffle, honed into skills/came in real handy climbing that hill/and each step shortened the climb/as I found the voice that was mine/each man is shaped by his deeds/I survived Coercion Street." The music is comprised of open Appalachian type fifths in 12/8 time, played on a dulcimer. The effect is amazing.
When Bill Berry talks about being on the outside as a child, he calls the song "Outfielder." "Momma said don't bother dad he's too busy today/and why you wanna go you don't like baseball anyway/and I grew up quicker then than on any other day in my memory...They had blue skies/and perfect while lines/for playin' baseball...I walked down behind home plate and hung my fingers on the fence/Thought I'd like to play the outfield if I only had the chance/and then a ball hit the backstop and finally knocked some sense/into my dreamin.'"
One of the more unusual subjects, written about by someone who knows it intimately, is presented by Marc Corwyn Bruce, an excellent songwriter who works as a public defender by day. "He dropped the gangsta gaze and he looked me in the eye/he was sixteen/it looked like years since he'd seen light/The judge was going to sentence him for his second felony/as we sat there in the tank, he looked scared and lonely to me/and he said in a monotone, 'I know what's going to happen to me/I'm in Juvenile Hall/headed for the penitentiary.' " Due to the way this song unravels, the long applause for it at the Sunday Night Campfire continues reflects the fact that the audience has looked into a slice of life they might not otherwise understand. At the high schools, where the Campfire Conspiracy performs as part of GrammyR in the Schools, Marc is deluged with students after he sings this song, telling him stories of brothers and boyfriends and thanking him for his realistic portrayal of the subject.
When a songwriter/singer is putting an entire set together or an album's worth of material, I sometimes look at what type of song he/she is omitting. Sometimes a writer will avoid story songs, or character studies. Or sometimes a writer will have lots of stories and philosophical statements but will not have one song which is a direct communication to one person. Most songs fall into this last category, but sometimes a writer will be so intent on avoiding the middle lane where all the cars are, he or she will have a set of songs in the third person or about other people or situations or even introspective statements about him or herself, but there will not be one song where the writer simply says something to another person. When that song is written, it can give the set a different dimension entirely, just as a character description song can vary the colors of another writer's set.
Publishers will sometimes say they're looking for controversial songs, story songs, "quirky" songs, things of this nature simply because these songs stand out; they're not just another album cut which the artist can write for him/herself. What is really needed is simply subject matter that doesn't blend in with the other songs. In TV and Film script writing, you hear the term "high concept." That's something that can be pitched in just a few words and will depend less upon the execution than the overall concept. A great concept, written competently, will frequently have a better chance than a merely competent concept greatly written.
When "Black Velvet" came out, didn't you hear people talking about it? And I'm so happy "Fancy" is a hit again. It was remarkable when Bobbie Gentry first recorded it in the seventies and it's still remarkable as a cover tune. Everyone remembers the roach crawling over the toe of her high heel shoe. These two songs I believe to have excellent concepts and to be expertly written. But they're simply more memorable because of the subject matter.
Edna St. Vincent Millay once said, "Life is not one damn thing after another; it's the same damn thing over and over." Don't let your catalogs or sets be that way. Throw a streak of color in there. Don't write the same song again and again. After all, you're the only one who's lived your life. Surely there's an unusual, unique story in it. And once you have full command of the craft of songwriting, your one-of-a-kind subject matter story is just sitting there, waiting for you to write it.
(All lyrics c 1995 Snowgoose Music/More Future Schock Songs, used by permission)
© 1996 Harriet Schock
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