SongSteps

One of the common questions I am asked is whether I ever worry I will run out of ideas to write. The easy answer is no, but the truth requires a bit of an explanation.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I am convinced the best way to ensure I will not run out of ideas is to keep writing the ideas where and when I find them. I can't speak for other songwriters, but the more I write, the more ideas I find there are to write. But I believe the reverse is also true. The less I write, the easier it becomes not to write. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ Let me say it another way. The best way to stay creative is to be creative. It's a discipline, and the more you do it, the more natural it becomes. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I think that's one of the reasons I love this quote from Barry Manilow. I can relate. He still has a million ideas because, in his words, he's still hungry.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ What about you? Do you ever worry you'll run out of ideas, or can you relate to Barry's quote?

While the question itself isn't new, it seems to be coming up with greater frequency, so I feel it's worth addressing.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ How much should you pay for a demo? ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ As you might expect, it's one of those questions with more than one correct answer. So what's a songwriter to do? Let me share a couple of thoughts that might be worth considering. Since there is more to this than one post can cover, I'll revisit this topic a few more times in the coming weeks.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ 1. Is your song ready to demo? - I've been there. You've just finished writing what you are sure is the next monster hit, and time is of the essence. As good as the song may be, I've found when I can discipline myself to live with it for a week or two, the changes I make almost always result in a better song. The time to do that is before the money is spent on a demo rather than after. ​​​​​​​​ 2. Who is the demo intended for? The obvious answer is for the producer or artist or someone who knows someone. How much do you know about what that person likes in a demo? Some producers prefer simple work tapes, while others prefer just piano/vocal or guitar/vocal. And yes, some prefer demos that sound like a master or would rather have a youtube link. I would add that sometimes the style of the song determines the extent of the demo as well. The point is to arm yourself with as much information as possible before spending money. Do your homework. ​​​​​​​​ 3. Do the math. I hear far too many stories of songwriters paying more for demos than they could recoup even if they got the cut they were after. Again, do your homework. That kind of information is available.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ So what are some of the lessons you have learned about the demo process, good or bad? What are some questions you have?

As with most of the things I post here, this quote represents a personal preference rather than a right versus wrong. If you have ever sat in one of my songwriting classes, you've not only heard this quote but heard me explain it in much greater detail. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ Let me give you the short version of it. I'm not a big fan of songs where the writer tries to impress me with their grasp of big words. I don't want to carry a dictionary when I listen to music. Give me a song where the writer takes me someplace I've never been using words I already know, and I am the happiest guy in town. Look up some Kris Kristofferson lyrics if you want a good example of that. He does it as well as anybody out there. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I started this post by saying this perspective was just a personal preference. But is it? I would challenge to make a list of your ten favorite all-time songs, or better yet, ten of your all-time favorite lyrics. Go back and look at the words again through this lens. Did you find any that required a thesaurus? ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I'm convinced it's a whole lot harder to write big ideas with small words but almost always more effective. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ So is this just me? What's an example of a big idea written with simple words?

So why would I post a picture of me standing in front of the ocean with a sunburn in the middle of February? And what does it have to do with songwriting? Let me start with the first question. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ With just a glance at this picture, I can recreate the entire scene in my mind. I can hear the waves crashing, smell the saltwater, and picture the beauty of the Daytona sunrise. It's usually about this time of the year I need to be reminded that the weather won't always be like it has been lately. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ What does it have to do with songwriting? I'm one of those writers who believes there has yet to be a camera lens invented that can capture a picture as good as a well-crafted lyric. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ Sometimes a lyric paints a picture with details so vivid I can picture what I have never experienced or go where I have never been. It's also worth inserting here that one of the telling signs of a beginning lyricist is one whose words describe the picture rather than allowing me to feel it. Don't merely tell me the ocean is blue or that you heard the waves crash. The listener already knows that.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ A great example is Billy Joel's "Piano Man." "He says, 'Son, can you play me a memory? I'm not really sure how it goes. But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes.'" IN just a few short lines, He reveals so many layers of who he is writing about.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ One of my favorites of all time is Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville." Nibblin' on sponge cake. Watchin' the sun bake. All of those tourists covered with oil. Strummin' my six-string on my front porch swing. Smell those shrimp they're beginning to boil.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ The detail in his lyric allows me to picture his beach more clearly than where I stood for this picture.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ How about you? What's the lyric that does that for you?

I love this quote from Sheryl Crow. Especially the last line where she describes alternate guitar tunings as lending a new way of "looking" at your songwriting. If not for the last line, her quote might be more fitting in a column on guitar playing. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ My first encounter with a co-writer using alternate tunings on a guitar was in 1989. His name was Bruce Carrol, and it was my first time writing with him. I played guitar from the time I was twelve and felt like I was reasonably proficient until he started playing. After watching, trying to figure out the chords he was using that made it sound so fresh, he finally told me it was an alternate tuning. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ Again, you might be wondering why I am spending so much time discussing guitar tunings in a songwriting post. I think Shery's quote explains it pretty accurately. New patterns on a familiar instrument seemed to change how the words sounded. To this day, I love it when a co-writer uses alternate tunings.​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I want to reinforce the importance of breaking familiar habits in our songwriting, whether it's what chair we sit in, or yes, even tuning the guitar differently. ​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​ I'm curious how many of you have tried writing on a guitar with alternate tunings or maybe an instrument, or that is not quite as familiar to you. What were the results?

Here's the question. Do you need to hear the song you're writing as you're writing it?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I read an interesting article recently about Ludwig van Beethoven that got me thinking. Most songwriters familiar with his name (not as many as you would think) also know that he was deaf. Because he understood the language of music, he could create it without actually hearing it.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I mentioned in a recent post that as someone who primarily writes lyrics, I write by ear. While something can look correct on paper, it often doesn't sound quite as smooth as I thought when I read it out loud. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I will also never forget an experience a long time ago at the publishing company where I wrote. I walked into the little writer's room where I usually worked, and one of the top producers was in there working with a major artist. They asked if it was okay to use the room and told me they were trying to finish a melody. I apologized there was no piano in there. He responded that he writes better melodies when he's not bound to a keyboard.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What about you? Do you think lyrics or music are more dependent on hearing while you are creating?

This is probably one of those quotes you have to read a couple of times for it to sink in. There are also a couple of conclusions one can draw from this quote. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The first is that it implies others HAVE a perception of you as a writer, and the other is that the perception is positive. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Like it or not, from the time you share your first song with someone, impressions are already being formed about how good a songwriter you are. (I'll address in a later post some potential pitfalls of rushing your material to social media).⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If you are one of those writers surrounded by a circle of encouragers, consider yourself fortunate. But the blessing can become a liability if you limit your audience to only those who think all of your material is great (i.e., "That's better than anything on the radio.")⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If that describes you, my advice is found in the quote pictured here. "Work hard enough to become the writer everybody thinks you already are."

I'm not sure what you think about when you see a Ferris Wheel. While I am fascinated by them, I have zero desire to ride one. When I see one, I will always think about a line in a song I heard back in the late 70s. The artist was T.G. Sheppard, and the song, written by Gary Chapman, was "Finally."⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The first line of the second verse says, "This Ferris Wheel just keeps on spinning round. Playing mind games with the ground." Even though I was pretty young, I was old enough to recognize a great line when I heard it. Forty years later, I still think about it when I see a Ferris Wheel.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Let me take it a step further. About fifteen years after T.G. recorded it, Gary Chapman did a solo project called The Light Inside and recorded the same song. While I loved Gary's records, I was disappointed that he changed that line on his cut, I assume to put it more in a Christian context.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Here's my question for you. When, if ever, do you feel like it makes sense to have two different versions of the same song in the marketplace? What's a scenario that would justify it?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ A bit of trivia: If you listen to T.G.'s cut in Apple music and check it against the lyric, you'll find it shows Gary's rewrite versus what T.G. is singing.

I get it when Gwen Stefani says her songs are basically her diaries. In fact, I Think most songwriters can relate.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It's always a bit of a delicate dance between trying to find the proper balance between writing vulnerable and writing personal. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What's the difference? If the songs that come from the pages of my diaries are vulnerable, ideally, the listener can relate and benefit from my transparency. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If I share primarily what is personal, I suspect I am the chief beneficiary. I also believe the line that separates the two is different for every writer. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The amateur writer pens their deepest secrets on pages of a diary and locks the cover to keep people from looking inside. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The successful writer pens their deepest secrets on pages hoping complete strangers will discover them. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Is this something you consider in your writing?

For those of you who co-write, I have a question. If it's your first time working with a new co-writer, how long does it usually take you to form a first impression? Quickly? What do you base it on? Does it typically turn out to be right? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I'm not saying it's wrong or right, as much as it's just human nature. I would even add that many times I've already formed a first impression even before the actual writing appointment based on everything from reputation to good communication.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Here are a few potential determining factors:⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Did they show up on time?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Did they show up prepared?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Did they waste time playing songs they had written in previous co-writes? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Did they bring a great idea or two?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ As you're going through the list of questions, I want to ask one more thing. If your co-writer is going through this same list regarding you, how do you think the answers play out?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What are some questions you would add to my list?

Perhaps the most challenging advice I ever received was also the most defining in who I am as a songwriter. It was my very first appointment when I moved to Nashville. I was seventeen, scared, and in desperate need of encouragement. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Instead, what I received was the following statement. "You do realize, of course, that every song has already been written." Not exactly the lift I was looking for. I remember walking out to my car parked in the alley behind the building on Music Row and just sitting there. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it was long enough for the reality to set in. What he had said was right. Every song had been written, but it hadn't been written by me. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What we bring to the song can't help but be unique because every writer brings their own set of circumstances and perspectives to the song. All these years later, I'm still motivated by the advice that seemed so devastating at the time.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What about you? What's a piece of advice (or critique) that became more valuable over time?