Songwriting Tips
Developing successful song structures
by Jason Blume
At first, I was resistant to fitting my songs into a commercial format. It felt like selling out, and I thought it would weaken my work. I thought "commercial" was a dirty word, synonymous with having no heart, no genuine emotion, and no creativity. I couldn't imagine ever writing anything that had any real meaning for me (or anyone else) by using some recommended structure or formula. That seemed like the antithesis of creativity to me.
Nonetheless, I slowly came to see that "commercial" simply meant what listeners were drawn to buy--and "commercial" included most of my favorite artists. That didn't sound so bad. I did want people to like what I was writing, and I did want to write songs that would be hits. But even if I could learn the techniques that made some songs hits, I couldn't imagine employing those principles without sacrificing the soul of my songs. But I was wrong. I never dreamed that there would come a time when I would so fully absorb the "rules" that my songs would spontaneously emerge in the proper structures--but now they do.
With lots of practice, these tools, techniques, and principles can be assimilated to such a degree that you won't even have to think about them--so that the spark of inspiration that starts deep in your heart can express itself in a way that can touch millions of listeners.
What are the common denominators? What are the factors that separate the good songs from the hit songs and the merely talented writers from the successful ones?
The Six Steps to Songwriting Success Are:
Developing successful song structures
Writing effective lyrics
Composing memorable melodies
Producing successful demos
Taking care of business
Developing persistence
A last word: While most of the tools and the techniques addressed in this book will apply to all genres of music, they are most appropriate for the types of pop, rock, adult contemporary, Christian and country songs that are recorded by artists who do not exclusively write their own songs.
Thankfully, there are writers who stretch the boundaries. It would get awfully boring if every song followed each of the rules outlined in this book. Some songs may become hits based on the strength of the artist or the production. But since the vast majority of hit songs that are not written by the artist adhere to most of the techniques in this book, you will have a much better chance of achieving your goals if you learn these techniques before you make the conscious choice to deviate from them.
Copyright © 1999 by Jason Blume. Excerpted from 6 Steps To Songwriting Success by Jason Blume. Published by Billboard Books, an imprint of Watson-Guptill Publications, New York, NY. Available where books are sold.
Songwriting clichés
by John Braheny
How often have you heard: feel the pain--by my side--set me free--lost without you --broken heart--all we've been through--hold me close--my foolish pride--all night long--give you my heart--want you, need you, love you--all my love--more than friends--never let you go--more than words can say--when you walked into the room--when you came into my life--when I first saw you--dream come true--call on me--our love is forever, and the ever popular--oh baby?
Then there are the cliché rhymes: hold (take my) your hand... understand... be your man, dance... take a chance... romance, kiss you... miss you and on and on. Of course, you've never been guilty of using any of these worn-out phrases and rhymes. But just in case you're thinking about it, I'll try to answer the questions I know you'd want to ask.
All you have to do is turn on the radio to any format and you'll hear clichés, often the same ones that are in my songs. Those songs are hits, so how can you say that clichés don't work out there in radioland?
Most of the songs you hear on radio are written by the artists who perform them. In those cases, there are few, if any, gate-keepers who are willing or able to criticize the artist's songs, particularly once the artist is successful. Also remember that a lyric is not a song is not a record and many artists are signed because they've gotten a great sound, a great look and a vocal identity and style that allows an audience to recognize them instantly. If you're a lyricist, you may hear those cliché lines and disregard the fact that other factors, including a dynamic, engaging melody and groove ideal for the style of the artist contributes to the success of the song, and great arrangement and production contributes to the success of the record. No matter what A&R reps say about the songs being the most important factor, it ain't necessarily so, though it's certainly most always true for pop ballads and country.
So it's more important to avoid clichés if I'm not an artist?
It's always important to avoid them, but if you're a writer submitting songs to artists who don't write (or who write but record "outside songs" in hopes of getting a hit whether they write it or not), you go through the gate-keepers. Your song passes the ears of publishers, producers and A&R reps who, no matter how young, have already heard thousands of songs. They've heard all the worn-out lines and predictable rhymes mentioned above and more. They know that, in order to compete with the songs submitted by the world's most successful writers, (or the songs of the artist's spouses or of other writers signed to their producer's publishing company, etc.,) your song has to be better than theirs. It has to be so unique and compelling that they would not have thought of it and that they know it could become a hit for another artist if they don't record it themselves. Lyrics full of clichés are viewed as lyrics that anyone could write since they're ones that have already been written, since they use phrases heard over and over again.
How can I avoid using clichés?
The best way to avoid clichés is to write with as much specific detail as possible about your own personal experiences and trust that you tap universal emotions. Also, if you've heard the line before, push yourself to find a new way to say it.
What about the fact that a 13 year-old kid hasn't hear those clichés nearly as often and for nearly as many years as the gatekeepers, so they're not clichés to them at all?
True enough, but then it gets down to whether you want to look back years later and be embarrassed by even your successful songs, realizing that you missed an opportunity to have made great songs.
Can't you use clichés in a creative way?
Absolutely. How often have you heard, "break my heart"? Now tell me how often you'd heard "Unbreak My Heart," before the Diane Warren song became a major hit for Toni Braxton? She took a cliché and did something so simple and obvious that writers all over the world are kicking themselves for not thinking of it first. Your job is to think of it first.
Song Construction Hooks
by John Braheny
"Hook" is the term you'll hear most often in the business and craft of commercial songwriting. (Well, maybe not as much as "Sorry, we can't use your song," but it's possible that the more you hear about hooks now, the less you'll hear "we can't use it" later.)
The hook has been described as "the part(s) you remember after the song is over," "the part that reaches out and grabs you," "the part you can't stop singing (even when you hate it)" and "the catchy repeated chorus." Some of the world's greatest hook crafters are commercial jingle writers: how many times have you had a jingle stick in your mind? Here are several categories of hooks.
THE STRUCTURAL HOOK
In this category, part of the structure of the song functions as the hook. The most common is the "hook chorus." It repeats several times during the song, and it should contain the title or "hook line," usually the first or last line (See "Chorus Construction" in next months article.). We may also consider memorable "B" sections, particularly in an AABA form, to be hooks, but the chorus is almost universally referred to as "the hook."
INSTRUMENTAL HOOKS
There are melodic phrases in songs that may not be part of the vocal melody, yet stick in our minds as though they were. In the last line of the chorus of The Beatles' "Something" after "Don't want to leave her now, you know I believe and how. . ." is a melodic guitar figure that we think of whenever we think of the melody, though there's no lyric over it. If we heard that figure by itself, we'd be able to "name that tune." The repeated riffs or loops that introduce and run beneath Stevie Wonder's "Superstition," Michael Jackson's "Beat It," and Jay-Z's "Can I Get A…" are as memorable as any other parts of the songs.
Too often, I think, songwriters tend to believe that creating those instrumental hooks is the job of the arranger, producer or studio musicians. It should be kept in mind that if those are the hooks that sell the song to the public, they'll sell the song to the producer and artist if you create them first.
STORY LINE HOOKS
Have you ever heard a song and afterward couldn't quite remember the melody or the exact words but you could remember the story? Sometimes the story itself is so powerful and evocative that it's the thing that stays in your mind longer than the exact words or melody. Examples are the Dixie Chicks' "Goodbye Earl," Clay Walker's "The Chain of Love," and Eminem's "Stan."
PRODUCTION HOOKS
Production hooks aren't always possible for a songwriter, but today more writers than ever before have access to sophisticated instrumental and recording technology. The sounds on both demos and master recordings have become very important. Experiment with the way various instruments sound in combination. Experiment with electronic keyboard synth "pre-sets" combined with acoustic instruments or natural sounds. You can digitally sample sound sources or buy them on disks, tapes or ROM cartridges and modify them yourself. MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface) technology has made possible an almost infinite variety of sonic combinations.
Early recording effects such as "phasing" and "flanging" were later incorporated into electronic boxes that you could use at the tap of a button and today virtually any sound modification device used in the studio has been converted to some portable digital form that you can use at home or on stage. Certain sounds will evoke certain emotional responses. Use them as artistic tools along with lyric and melody to create mood and emotion. One of the most effective hooks is a sound no one has ever heard before. Remember, however, that once you get into the technology of creating sounds, it can be so much fun that you can easily forget that the song is still the most important thing. No matter how exciting those sounds are, they won't make up for a weak song.
Hooks are essential in commercial music. They are points of reference that keep us interested and focused on the song. They're devices that help us remember and an entertainment in themselves. Part of your job as a commercial writer is to be able to use as many different types of hooks as possible. Next month: We'll explore a variety of ways to construct choruses. JOHN BRAHENY was Co-founder/Director of the Los Angeles Songwriters Showcase, a national songwriters organization, from 1971 until they joined forces with National Academy of Songwriters in 1996. He wrote the best-selling Writer's Digest book, The Craft and Business of Songwriting (now in its third printing) and is a consultant for songwriters, performers and the music industry. He can be reached at nutunes@aol.com. Braheny is also a member of the TAXI A&R staff.
The Song That Changed The World
By Kenny Kerner
During the '50s and early '60s, deciding on new talent was a lot easier than it is today. A&R Reps heard a great voice and, whether or not the artist wrote his own material, that voice was usually enough to seal the deal. Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Nat King Cole, Dinah Washington, Aretha Franklin, and dozens of other great singers and song stylists were signed because of their pipes. The songs themselves could come from publishers and other pro songwriters.
But then, on January 25th, 1964, something happened that forever changed the way A&R worked. On that very date, a single called "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by a new British quartet called The Beatles, hit the Number One spot on the Billboard Pop Charts. And believe it or not, that event made possible the later-day signings of such artists as Hanson, the Monkees, Shaun & David Cassidy, Spice Girls, Tiffany, Menudo, New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears and the Go Gos, to name just a few.
By topping the charts, the Beatles proved, for the very first time ever, that musicians could both write and play their own material and be successful at sustaining a career and, that image was indeed responsible for tremendous amounts of record sales. Whether it's torn jeans, an all-girl band or Nehru jackets, image sells—if marketed properly.
That in itself created a dilemma for the A&R Community that is still perplexing. Since 1964, A&R Vice Presidents, directors, Managers and even lowly Reps, have been wrestling with the question of "Art vs. Commerce." Whether 'tis nobler to sign an artist who will need years to develop a following, radio play and record sales (Harry Chapin, Tracy Chapman, Randy Newman) or to go for the immediate hit (Hanson, Spice girls, Britney) knowing that the longevity of these artists with blatant image might only be three to five years. Me? I go for the immediate hit—every time! Isn't that the object of a record company? To sell millions of records and have tons of hits? Sure it is!
I believe that a great, fresh, original image/look, combined with great songs, can only help sell records, expose the artist and build a strong following. So, when I scour the country for new talent, I specify that I want young, good-looking teenagers who are hungry, aggressive and have something special to offer in addition to being able to play and write. Realistically, I want to sell as much merchandise as records. That very combination is what made acts such as Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, 'N Sync, Dixie Chicks and others, international superstars.
Notice I used the word "young" in the last paragraph. These days, record labels are making an extra effort to sign acts in their early teens. Not only for the marketing, but as a musician gets into his late twenties and early thirties, he tends to let the frustrations of the business overtake him. He/she gets jaded. He seems to focus more and more on his day job and his boyfriend/girlfriend relationship than his music career. He tends to believe he's heard it all before and it just didn't work. He thinks he knows all the answers. The aggression, vitality and hunger are gone.
The changes made in the music industry by the success of the Beatles helped open the doors for a plethora of signings. As an artist, your job is to understand what is being signed and why, and to do whatever you can to make sure you appear attractive to the labels when they come knocking.
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Sarah McLachlan Finds her own Walden Pond
By Bill DeMain
Thoreau once said that every writer's duty was to give "first and last, a simple and sincere account of their own life." More than his sage words reached 26-year old singer/songwriter Sarah McLachlan. In preparing the songs for her latest release, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (Arista), the Canadian songstress, perhaps inspired by Thoreau's Walden experience, retreated to an isolated cabin in the mountains for nearly seven months of meditation and soul-searching. "It was just an amazing time for me," she relates.
The results of her temporary sabbatical are intensely personal, emotionally rich, dark, moody, stirring songs like "Good Enough," "Plenty," "Possession," and "Circle." Listening to these songs, one can almost hear McLachlan going through cathartic changes, making discoveries about her self and her life. Indeed, several times during this interview, Sarah talked about the songwriting process as a self-therapy. "It's given me so much, as far as learning about myself," she says.
Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Sarah McLachlan studied guitar and piano as a child. She remembers being drawn to the sounds of such seminal folk/rock artists as Cat Stevens, Joan Baez and Simon & Garfunkel. Later, as she reached her teens, it was Peter Gabriel's music that touched her most. "The emotional response you get from his songs, because of the honesty, that really inspired me to find my own voice and write from that point of view," she says.
At 19, she signed a recording contract with Nettwerk Records. The first ten songs she wrote comprised her debut, 1988's well-received Touch. Her sophomore effort, 1991's Solace announced McLachlan's talents to the world and brought into focus her intimate, moving vocal power and evocative songwriting gifts.
Currently on an extensive tour supporting her new release, Sarah McLachlan recently stopped to share her thoughts on writing, art and solitude with The Performing Songwriter.
You said that it took about six years to learn how not to edit yourself and remain open in your music...
(laughs) Hopefully I'll get that back again someday.
What kinds of things can a songwriter do to reach that place in their writing?
Well, for me on this new record, it was mainly secluding myself, being away from society and being away from everything. I locked myself up in a cabin in the mountains and stayed there for seven months. It was just an amazing time for me to really focus on a lot of stuff that had sort of been lurking behind the scenes in my brain, but never had the time to come out. Or it kept being put aside, because there were so many distractions. Also I think, I got incredibly in tune with the earth, with nature, like I hadn't before. I couldn't write a thing for three months. My brain was eating itself. It was terribly cold out and I couldn't do anything creative. I was just frozen.
Everything was churning around inside but nothing would come out. Then spring happened and everything totally opened up. I was blossoming as well. Most of the songs—I had written four previous to going to the cabin—were written then, about seven of them, between April and May. The place that I got to in myself of feeling calm and peaceful and also for the first time in my life, feeling I'm happy now. Not 'I would be happy if . . . ' There was always that going on with me. I finally got to a place where I was totally happy and peaceful and living in the present tense instead of in the future, you know and projecting things.
Did you go into that experience with any sort of agenda?
Well, in the process of not being able to write, I kept a journal, these sort of morning pages. I wrote three pages before I'd do anything else, just to try and clear my head. Most of it was totally banal like mmm, coffee smells good, I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say (laughs) for ten times. But sure enough, about midway through the second page, sometimes I'd really open up and all this stuff would come out. You know, you're not really awake yet and you're just sort of spewing whatever's on the top of your head sort of free form. And there was no editing happening there at all, because no one was going to read this book. I could say whatever I wanted. I didn't have to hide behind anything, and I think that really helped me. To be really open and honest with myself, that was good. I'm pretty good at deceiving myself or I've known myself to do that in the past (laughs).
Did you listen to music while you were there?
I listened to a lot of Tom Waits, and Talk Talk's Spirit of Eden, which is one of my favorites.
The opening lines of your songs are always captivating and they seem to contain the germ of the whole song in just a few words.
I figure the first two lines usually tell the whole story of a song (laughs). The first two lines are what comes out first when I'm writing, and they basically tell which direction, for me lyrically, the song is going to go. Sometimes those two lines will sit for months by themselves, until they find a completion to the story, or a completion to the stage that I'm in of trying to work through something, until hopefully I'm somewhere near the other side of it, when I can be a little more objective and write it down. It's the same with titling the songs. Most of the song titles come from the last word in the second line (laughs).
Say you have those two lines and the music wants to continue. Will you let it go on without words?
Unfortunately, I often try to fill it in. I'm sort of still a bit stuck to that convention of writing a song with a four-line verse, the more traditional phrasing of a stanza or whatever. So if there are only two lines, there usually end being four lines. I work at making it four before I stop (laughs). But there's also this thing, when I go in the studio, Pierre (Marchand, her producer) is great at editing. He'll say, why don't you just not sing that line, do you really need to say that, you kind of already said it. He has done that, which is something that I can't really do, because I'm not as objective about it. And I don't see things from the same direction that he does, which is why he's so good to work with.
Do you demo songs before you go into the studio?
Well, I demo them in a very simple way, with acoustic guitar or piano. Sometimes a drum machine. But my sort of restrictions on myself for going into the studio are making it strong by itself in the simplest form. So if you're hiding behind a lot of production, if you take it away, you can still play that song and it'll still be strong on its own.
You mentioned a drum machine. Do you ever write with just a groove?
I have never have before. I'm pretty lazy as far as technology, and I think it's something I'll probably have to get more into, because I'm sort of exhausting the instruments that I'm using, or exhausting the inspiration that they give me. I can go back and forth, but I don't have a piano, so I end up doing a lot of stuff on guitar. But when I was in Montreal I did, so a lot of this record came from piano because it was such an exciting thing, a new sound, a new instrument. That happened with electric guitar as well. I started writing with that, because it was a new sound. So maybe I will get into the drum machine. I just have to learn how to use the damn thing first (laughs). I always fight against technology. I want to be grass roots and I want where it comes from to be organic.
Well it sounds like you have a good combination with your producer, because he strikes me as a technically minded guy...
Oh, he's amazing that way, because he's such a techno-head. But at the same time, he totally comes from the organic sense of letting the song happen in whatever direction it goes in. Just following and not pushing the song for any wrong reason, whatever feels right go with it.
A lot of your songs have an air of mystery and darkness. Is there something you do during the writing process to conjure this mood?
(laughs) I just think it's what's in my brain. It's not that I'm really pessimistic or anything—I'm not. But I sort of like the effect of two sides of things—one being really pretty and one being really ugly, like when you lift up a pretty rock and there's all these mites and worms underneath it (laughs). I think that sort of came from this one poem I read in grade nine. It's funny, the little things that stick with me my whole life. Wilford Owens, he's a World War I poet and he wrote about being in the field in the war and all the horrors that went on. But somehow, without glamorizing or romanticizing it, he made it incredibly beautiful. In the same breath, he'd be talking about something horrendously grotesque. I just really loved that. That's actually where the title of the record came from too, "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy." It was taken from a line in one of his poems. "Quick boys, in an ecstasy of fumbling we fit the masks just in time . . ." and I thought that was amazing, that "in an ecstasy of fumbling." It was so beautiful, and since grade nine I've been trying to fit that into something (laughs). I sort of have a little library of phrases and words in my head that I like. Like "murmur." Never been able to use it yet, but it's a beautiful word. I like words that say so many things. Language is such a beautiful thing and words are so amazing.
Tell me about writing "Possession." Were you writing from a male point of view?
Yes. I tried to put myself into their shoes, into the mind of someone who is so obsessed with another person that they could conceive murdering them. It took me awhile to justify that one. As a woman, living with that fear in the back of your mind every day with the possibility of being raped. And so, it's kind of weird for me, but then I save myself in the third verse by saying I'd never really act on it, except in my dreams. And maybe that's putting me into a false sense of reality, but it did help. Not just that, but writing the whole song, was kind of a cleansing thing for me, because I had two people in particular who just became incredibly intense with the fantasy world that they created, and demanded that that was reality and we had to be together. And they went to great lengths to make this happen. It became frightening, but it ticked me off that I had to look over my shoulder every time I walked out the door. There was one point where I was told I'd have to have a bodyguard. It was like, screw that, I don't want to live in fear. It makes me so angry.
When you're writing a relationship song, do you keep a particular person in mind while you're doing the lyric?
Yeah, I usually do set up a fairly clear image of who I'm talking about. "Plenty," for example, is definitely aimed at another individual. I tend to switch people in a lot of the songs. Sometimes I'll say "you," and sometimes "I" and I'm not really sure why I do that.
What was the inspiration behind "Good Enough?"
A lot of things. That song has been such an amazing experience for me because I've learned so much from it. There's so many different stories that I attach to it now. But it sort of came from, initially really missing my best girlfriend. It started out as fiction, about a couple in which the woman was pretty much alienated by just about everybody, because her husband was really abusive and domineering, which sort of somewhat mirrors my mother and father's relationship. And basically, I am the friend coming in, saying hey, you deserve more than this, why don't you come with me and I'll take care of you. The video that I'm going to do for that song is the first sort of dramatic narrative that I've done. Everything else has been pretty abstract, trying to find a parallel universe to describe it differently. But we're going to have a little girl, a man and woman, and a friend, possibly an imaginary friend. We're going to look at the relationship between the little girl and her friends and also between the mother and the little girl. And there's quite a bit of alienation from the father, who's been behind the scenes the whole time anyway.
How much input do you have as a songwriter as to how your songs are interpreted in a video?
A lot. I'm very lucky in that the record company I'm signed to has given me a 100% creative control, pretty much from the start. It's been amazing. I've directed a couple of the videos, and the ones I didn't direct have been my concept, because I simply don't know the language of film. I've entrusted my vision to other people, and have been quite well represented. I'm actually working with one of my best friends on this film for "Good Enough." Her name is Kharen Hill, and she's done most of my photos in the past six years. She's amazing. We talked a lot about what the song meant, and we got this whole narrative thing going. It's going to look really beautiful, and it's the first one that's going to be literal.
Love is usually something that's idealized in pop songs or expressed in a co-dependent, I'll die without you sort of way. What do you try to do with the concept of love in your songs?
In the past, I thought it was really a great thing, but it turned out to be really bad, so what does that mean? I tend to try to analyze the mistakes, or what went wrong. Why did this not work? Usually I turn to myself and ask what's wrong with me, or where did I go wrong? Then I turn to them and ask where did you go wrong? So I guess I'm trying to show that hopefully—it depends on the song—it's not any one person's fault. It's like there's two people involved. I'm focusing more on the emotion of what people go through when love does go away, or when people break up. The anger, the frustration of why did it go wrong. I tried so hard, or maybe I tried too hard (laughs). It depends. On this record, on "Plenty," I decided I was in love with somebody. The problem was that I had projected the image of the perfect man on to them. And they sort of played up to it as well. Then it sort of crumbled fairly quickly, and there was a frightened little boy behind that facade. It was wild for me, because it was the first time I'd really deceived myself in such a grand manner. I wanted to believe it, so I forced myself to believe.
Are songs an act of discovery for you?
Yeah, and sometimes long after the fact. Going back to "Good Enough," one of the things I was focusing on was don't tell me why he's never been good to you, don't tell me why nothing's good enough. For a couple years, every time I'd see my mom, I'd say, you know, you deserve more, you deserve to be happier than you are. Why are you putting up with this? Basically telling her that the only thing she knew sucked. So she never wanted to see me, and I wondered why. I couldn't understand it, then I wrote that song. Around the same time, I tried reverse psychology and didn't hassle her anymore and just accepted that she had accepted. Then she opened up. She completely changed and she started saying, I'm not going to accept this anymore, I'm changing this and this and this. It was fantastic, because I wasn't beating it into her, she was doing it on her own. That song taught me that. I have a lot of emotional attachment to that song.
Is it difficult for you to keep emotional connection with your songs over the course of a tour?
It does fluctuate, but I've found that with these new songs on Fumbling, it's been really easy to keep the connection. I don't know if that's because they're fresh and new or if it's because they're the strongest songs that I have yet. The good thing is that usually I can remember the places that they came from when I sing. I don't remember what they're about so much as the place that they came from, the mood that I was in, the strong, quiet place that I was in when I was writing it. And that gives me a lot of happiness. Sometimes I'm going through emotions, singing the songs and not even listening to the words, but having some weird memory of sitting under a tree and feeling happy (laughs). Other times I'm thinking about my laundry list. The weirdest things go through my head when I'm singing. I'll think about what I said five minutes before, like man, that was stupid (laughs). But I'll still be singing.
I don't think I've ever heard anyone talk about what goes through their minds when they're singing their songs.
(laughs) All sorts of crazy stuff. Just life, like oh man, The Canucks lost, what a drag, and you'll be singing very well and emoting, but little flashes will come in of other things. Then all of a sudden I'll find myself at the end of verse. How did I get there? Wow, I guess I got through it, but I was someplace else. That happens fairly often in certain songs.
Sir Laurence Olivier once said that when he was acting Hamlet on stage and bringing the audience to tears, he was sometimes wondering if his shirts would be ready at the cleaners the next day.
(laughs). It makes sense. You do something like that every night. One night—and I never ever watch TV—but I've become involved in hockey, and it's really fun. So I was watching a game before a show and when I got out there on stage, the TV had sucked all my memory away. Before every line of every verse and chorus, I was terrified right up until it came out that it wasn't coming out, that I'd forgotten it. It just freaked me out. Not too many people noticed it in the audience because I'd hit most of the lines. But I asked an actress friend of mine and she said that it'd happened to her before. You've just got to trust that it's there. You're just blocking it because of your fear. You've got to get rid of that fear, so think about that laundry list, think about mowing the lawn, and it'll be there.
What would you like to accomplish as a songwriter?
I'd like to keep trying to be able to work through things. Songwriting is such therapy for me. It's given me so much, as far as learning about myself. I'd like to be able to keep doing that and that's it. That's everything to me, just being able to work through things. I guess an offshoot of that is other people listening to it and being able to get something for themselves.
Do you have the sense that what you're doing will last?
Yes, it certainly will last for me. I'd like to think I'll keep writing and getting better and better. I hope (laughs). I'm really proud of what I've done so far, and that pride hasn't diminished in any way.
What advice would you give to someone looking to make music their career?
I'd tell them to go read Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, because his advice is better than any advice I could ever give.
Reprinted with permission from TAXI:</A> the world's leading independent A&R company helping unsigned bands, artists and songwriters get record deals, publishing deals and placement in films and TV shows. © 2006 TAXI. All rights reserved.
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