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My interest in songwriting and the creative process is partially driven by the mystery of it all. Particularly when it comes to lyric writing. Think of a well written song, one that makes you shake your head when you hear it again because the words just cut right through, taking a shortcut to the part of your brain that says, oh yeah, that’s true and real and why didn’t I think of that before. Now think of the actual words themselves-are there any words in the lyrics that you didn’t know before, is the vocabulary something special, anything you would need a dictionary for? I doubt it. My subscribers are a pretty well read and spoken bunch. A painter is technically skilled at actually making marks on canvas. I can’t even draw a straight line well. A writer of novels creates arcs of story and character development that take months, years to string together, a craft that I cannot imagine attempting. But a songwriter, or similarly, a poet, takes the words of everyday language, and rearranges them on paper in a few paragraphs, something any us of could choose to do right now. Sounds simple, so what is the magic that creates amazing art in the form of lyrics or poetry? Two aspects that I think matter: connection, and observation. The heart of creativity, in all forms, is noticing, pointing out, and creating connections, connections that are deeply true but of which the audience had not previously been consciously aware. A wonderful metaphor, a juxtaposition of images, a story that resonates. But in order to dig up, process, and present these connections, the artist first must be a talented observer. Anna Tivel is one of the most talented lyricists I have come across in modern music. Here is an excerpt from an email newsletter of Anna’s that I received recently: I love people’s faces. Watching eyebrows disagree with what lips just spoke, wrinkles like a mapping of every good and hard day, true delight’s pure rhythm across a million tiny muscles. Touring is a real face festival — gas stations, street corners, bars, airports, hotels, living rooms, porches. … It makes the world feel like art, to move around so much that faces become the anchor. An unguarded smile, a listener leaned in, the beautiful tendon and bone release of recognition. I want to write songs that feel as intricate, as subtle. Songs with many truths breathing at once, under the surface, tangled in each other. Maybe what I love the most about writing and about faces, is that you can spend a whole life looking. Everything leads you further in, and you’ll never be there. I’ll always be trying to capture it and I never quite will. And that’s the best part.
Anna is a master of telling a story in 3 short verses, somehow choosing the exact few words (words which we all use in conversation), in the correct order, that end up placing us right in the scene of her story, with empathy for and understanding of the characters she brings in. A mysterious gift indeed, but as noted in her quote above, one that is rooted first in observation. Here is part of a poem she included in the same newsletter: to the shopping cart lady at the crosswalk: stunning woman
becoming ancient
in the damp september street
bent double
like a handmade card
thank you for coming
sorry for your loss
jerk-wheeled cart pulled
sidelong and complaining
leeks and canola
sugared orange slices
for night’s eternal mouth
See what I mean? Anyway this brings us back to the Postcard Revolution from issue number 2. (It always goes back to postcards). I won’t repeat myself from that diatribe except to say get out there, look at stuff, really observe, write some of it down. (and send it to me once in a while on a postcard).
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