Tagged with Songwriting

Writing a Song: The 1-2-3 Immersion Method

When my brother, John, moved here to Chattanooga in 2008 one of the super-big excitements hinged on the idea that John and I had dreamed about for many years. We began to believe that if we were just able to live in proximity to each other we could form that ever-elusive thing, a band that would stick.

We were brothers. We knew each other’s style. By then, John was a multi-instrumentalist with electric and acoustic, hand-made eight-string guitars. He’d spent the last decade playing in a number of bands in Boise; had tried the home-studio recording thing in earnest for a number of years; had to leave behind one of the best drummers he’s ever played with in Sean Gallagher, also a close friend. In the meantime, I’d taken major hiatuses from music altogether; played bass in a heavy metal band in high school; I’d played guitar for basically a 60s-cover band in college. What do you do when you’re drummer can’t keep time? Sounds like the beginning of a joke. We played at a single fraternity party. I sang “Jumpin’ Jack Black,” a song I never really liked. We stunk. I’d struggled with writing songs in a kind of binge-and-purge approach for the rest of my life. I was playing a lot now. So what that I also now had three kids, taught in a tenure-track position some 40 minutes away, and had little equipment.

What could go wrong?

It’s not like we weren’t aware of these things. But we had a magic card up our sleeve (and I really don’t mean this facetiously). John and I could write a song. In fact, we could write lots of songs in a short amount of time. Things more sophisticated than half the stuff you hear on the radio. At least, we’d like to think so. Okay, so as you may have guessed, the band thing didn’t turn out quite like we’d hoped. The dream still lives on…In the meantime, as I dust off the old ax and start conjuring up mayhem again, I’ve been thinking about songs and how it’s always easier said than done. John brought his approach from Boise, and I will say it produced a lot of fruit. A lot of rotten fruit, too, but no one ever has to hear that. Rotten Fruit! Band name?

First, I don’t even count this one: declare a free day–or, more realistically–a free morning (morning’s are, of course, best) and commit to the following:

1. Quit jamming and give something structure.  Jamming is always fun but rarely leads directly to a developed song. Give yourself an hour per song. Say 5 hours total. Tell yourself (or a partner if you think you can work with one), that you’re going to write five songs in five hours win-lose-or-draw. You simply have to create something. You have nothing to lose. Five songs in five hours? Tough, and okay, so some of it will stink. Who cares, right? It was five hours, and chances are you’ll have something to show for it!

2. Scratch out some lyrics. Can’t forget the lyrics! This may be a bit of a gray area when it comes to how strictly you follow the one hour method. John and I would always work hard under the pressure of the time, pushing to get out more than just a concept but actual verses and chorus and whatnot. I will admit, however, that virtually every song that ever made it off the cutting room floor had lyrics that were wrestled into shape one way or another later on.

3. Record the song. A vital, if easily overlooked, part of the process. When you throw yourself into an immersion like this as a writer you’ve already “recorded” the material by the act of writing. Same with painting. Music floats out there. You simply must–within the allotted hour–record the song. Garageband here you come. Even a field recorder or microcasette recorder. Anything. It must be as easy as clicking it on and recording it.

That’s it. Oh, then do it again and again until you’ve written like 30 or 40 of these things, then choose the best 8. Something like that. Let me know how it works for you.

This one in particular, Reno Always Follows Me, came out pretty nice on our first CD, Migration. John wrote the lyrics, sings and plays bass. I play guitar. Alan Dixon on drums. Incredibly, the One Shoe Untied blog site is still up–whereupon one can find the entire Migration album for FREE!

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Finding Inspiration: Bob Dylan

A few weeks ago, Shelley got us tickets to go see the Avett Brothers at Track 29 here in Chattanooga. I discovered the Avett Brothers two or three years back, and had actually them introduced them to her. She’s a folkie through and through when it comes to music. For some reason, I’ve never taken to the Avett Brothers in the way that I expected to, but Shelley’s been off the rails for them–and the concert only served to inflame her passion. In fact, she became so excited about them that she actually told me that she’d like for me to start playing the guitar again (singing, not so much), but guitar, yes. Now, I’d been in a band (One Shoe Untied) with my brother and a few other amigos up until this past year when I finally got my chance to work full-time at being a writer and running C&R Press. Being in a band, too? That wasn’t going to cut it. I understood. Plus, the band, as bands are 99.9% of the time, was trouble.

I hadn’t played a lick in nearly a year when Shelley said, “I think you should start playing the guitar again.” My wife was actually telling me to play the guitar, not just tolerating it? She’s also started practicing the piano again herself and is working on John Lennon’s “Imagine.” I decided I better go ahead and see how I felt about this myself. I tuned up my guitars and started remembering all I’ve forgotten over the past year. Then, voila, as if in synchronicity the bi-monthly issue of my American Songwriter magazine came in the mail, and it was none other than a tribute to Bob Dylan, celebrating his 70th birthday. In fact, you can check out their site and see that even as we speak they’re celebrating 30 days of Dylan. Funny, but the opening of one of the Dylan articles begins with the latest Grammies in which Mumford and Sons and The Avett Brothers opened for Dylan as a kind of “passing of the torch” to the new generation of folk-inspired songwriting. According to the article, Dylan performed an enigmatic rendition of “Maggie’s Farm” which was as much to suggest the extended reaches of the possibilities of creative performance as anything else. It contrasted quite a bit with the earnest, conservative approaches of the former bands, and the writer suggests that Dylan was playing “keep away with the torch” more than he was passing it on.

I don’t know. I do know that Dylan represents a lot of things to a lot of people, some of it misguided, some of it head-scratching, but, in the end, he can’t be ignored in the annals of American songwriting (he prefers simply to call himself a performer). In fact, this is what Mason Jennings writes about him:

Bob Dylan is an invention. That’s important to remember. That persona is as much or more a work of art as his songs are. I saw him a few years ago. I remember standing with the soundman when a fan came running back at him and started screaming “Fix this! What’s he doing? I paid so much money! Fix it!” before storming out. The rest of the crowd was on their feet loving it. The person Bob Dylan is still dividing crowds 50 years later. No small feat. I have no idea what Robert Zimmerman is like but one thing is for sure, he is an inventor on the ranks for DaVinci and Tesla, and a visionary on the ranks of Steve Jobs and Walt Disney. Can’t imagine our world without him. It’d be a completely different place.

The complete Paul Zollo Interview, which took place in 1991, was published in this latest American Songwriter issue and it does offer some insight into Dylan’s ever-mysterious processes, as well as some interesting opinions about who the really great songwriters are. He says things like Hank Williams is probably the greatest songwriter ever (and then concedes that it may be a tie with Woodie Guthrie, both of whom he then asserts were performers and not just songwriters). He says there are more than enough songs to go around for the rest of time, that the world doesn’t need any more songs.

So, how is this inspiring? Well, besides what’s already been mentioned, for me it starts with sheer endurance. Here’s another example (see Woody Allen below) of a guy who, despite a large set of very real limitations is, well, legendary. He’s basically a poet who puts his music to simple melodies, and his voice…ah yes his voice. Well, let’s say this. Of course, it’s rough and grizzled and occasionally incomprehensible these days. But for whatever you want to say about his tone (or lack thereof), the dude hasn’t been doing this for 5 decades running because he can’t hold a note. He can, and he does. Take it from one who knows THAT part of the singing limitation blues.

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