Wednesday, May 20, 2009


I've written four songs in as many weeks. It could be called a creative spell, probably, or perhaps a product of boredom. No, actually poetry and music come from true emotion, a growth spurt of imagination. I like telling stories with songs. The pictures that the words make, the consonance and the rhyme. It surprises me that I don't have to cross out much. That the lyrics come so fast. New chords and old familiars fill out a harmony, which births a melody. Then I wait for words to come, and try to make them match in the end. Usually there is one line or phrase that sounds out of place, not quite what is needed. And sometimes it gets changed, sometimes not. More often, a different word suggests itself once I've already decided on a particular set. But I can't stop singing it the right way, so the other must be changed.

Any skill has stages. In music, these stages are quite pronounced. I have my own interpretation. The wretched squeak and stumble time at the very beginning. The more pleasant seeking of songs to play, getting quicker and more familiar with the rules. Then the boring work part, the grind. Now, I am in a place where I like to play. Where my fingers itch for an instrument when others are performing. It's no longer forced, but almost enjoyable. I still flush in a group, get nervous and such, especially with just one or two listening. But I like that people like my songs.

And a well written lyric is so satisfying.

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