Songwriting. The ultimate process driven art form?
A song is never finished.
At last night’s rehearsal for no gigs we refreshed our memories of old songs:
“What’s the chord between the mid8 and the chorus?”
“Am I supposed to sing that twice?”
“Did I come in too soon or too late?”
“How do we end this damn song?”
What’s nice is that sometimes out of confusion or lack of memory, an improvised moment causes something different to happen. Fresh. An old song gains something extra. A song we have written between us and played dozens of times is a living thing.
I’m always astonished, honoured, sort of bewitched by the process of writing that we have accidentally fallen into. I write words. Lots of them. They can come easily to start with, and are then reviewed and edited, and usually parked and revisited before handing them over. I was cautious at first because it exposes, makes you vulnerable. Especially as some of my lyrics feel very close. I have discovered the way to cushion a blow is to send things out in a batch. When someone asks if I have anything (answer always yes) I will send out at least four sets of lyrics. If I send out one, there’s a greater chance of rejection. If I send out a few, someone will find something they think they can work with. Miraculously, so far, there’s never been any competition, they pick different things to work on. Then, sometimes weeks or months later, there’ll be a return of some sort. And I might get sent a recording to see what I think. This is still far away from the finished, giggable item… but it’s a newborn.
Last night was a bit maternity ward. We looked at two or three new songs. We played and sang. Each time played is slightly different once other people get involved. There often is a lyric change/edit. I always sing it differently to the others, the phrasing and delivery of the lyrics I wrote… they have been handed back to me wrapped in a blanket and then it’s my job to look after it and bring it up properly. There’s a matter of arrangement and harmony as the rest of the family get to know the new baby. But we can usually tell, in those first playings, that this can be something lovely.
I hope that I never lose this sense of wonderment. I can’t believe I ever found it! It’s creativity at its most alive. I have rehearsal recordings on my phone, complete with interruptions and false starts and repetitions. I will listen to them over and over, and look forward to the next family outing.
