Change It Up, Part 2

Hello Troubadourians! It’s good to be back! I took July off from this column because sometimes the “real world” just won’t go away. I missed you all. Now, on with the story… in my past few columns, I’ve been writing about my experiences with exploring the process of songwriting. I hope you’ll indulge me once again. I have had the privilege to collaborate and play with some of the most gifted songwriters in the San Diego music scene. Either playing guitar on their recordings and/or contributing to the compositions, I have learned something from every opportunity, every song. I’ve said that as a guitarist first, my contributions have been primarily musical—chord progressions, riffs, melodies and such—but rarely lyrics. Maybe a lyric or line that points the song’s story in a particular direction but often not really more than that. Hanging around with actual songwriters seems to have inspired me.

When the words for “Time and Water” started coming to me, it was the beginning of something new and exciting; the idea that I could write a complete song (mostly) by myself, and that it didn’t sound immature or cliché. I’m convinced that “flipping the script” by having the lyrics be the inspiration rather than the music made all the difference for me. Also, learning to have the patience to let the song come to me, lyrically and musically, essentially letting the song write itself, was something I had never experienced. Somewhere in my lizard brain I was convinced that the best songs happen all at once and that if it took too long it wasn’t all that good. Since that hadn’t been my experience, I figured I wasn’t much if a songwriter and I’d settle for playing on other people’s stuff.

But somewhere over the past few years in working with my friends Sven-Erik Seaholm and Mark C. Jackson—both world-class writers in completely different genres—on a somewhat regular basis, I began to see the songwriting process much differently. Having worked with Sven for 30 plus years, I’ve watched his evolution as a writer up close. He’s always been good but there is a noticeable growth in his writing during that time. Still, it’s only recently in looking backward that I noticed it. When you are playing and participating in the making of music in real time, it isn’t always obvious that there is an evolution happening at the same time. And while I’ve only worked with Mark since 2019, I’ve still had the opportunity to see the progression of his writing as well. We’ve been playing his songs from his recordings and experimenting with many that have never been recorded—some of which that date back to the ’90s. I find it interesting to see the changes over that time in both his lyrics and chord progressions. But mostly it was being able to see and learn how they both tell a story with so few, yet such compelling words that speak to me and to anyone who listens to them. And perhaps most important, that they were fearless from the beginning with what they had to say. They just got better at it…

That fearlessness is key. Allowing the words to come out, just saying something, expressing the thoughts and feelings of, and in, the moment and not being precious about what people might think. But it’s not an exclusivity to the emotional side that makes them good songwriters. There is an intelligence and an unpredictability to their writing that captivates the listener. Both Mark and Sven are able to say what they intend to without “telegraphing” the next lyric or rhyme. That’s what real songwriters do…

I didn’t think I was capable of that openness or being that vulnerable, yet somewhere, somehow in being late to the party I’ve discovered how to explore that openness and vulnerability and to not be embarrassed with what I’m writing, and ultimately singing. Further, I believe having spent so many years honing the craft of writing through creating this column, I can create a lyrical narrative that is compelling and unique without being predictive or repetitive, except of course, where necessary for the chorus (or hook).

So that get’s me through my hang-ups with words…mostly. But what about the music? Well, that has changed too. Most, if not all, of my musical creations happened from jamming on the guitar by myself. Of course, that generally means filling every space with something. That approach worked for some collaborative compositions in certain genres—looking at you Wild Truth—but having so much going on in the guitar part usually left little room for words. At least it was difficult for me to think of any… I salute Sven for coming up with clever lyrics to several of my guitar-star excursions and turning them into coherent songs. “This Golden Era,” “Heal,” “A Heartbeat at a Time” are just a few that turned out really well. Good thing too because I wasn’t able to hear through the clutter of my own riffage well enough to write more than a few lines of the stories.

Now, for me, having the lyrics first—the “hard part” so to speak—out of the way, the story being told and the cadence of the words allows the song to tell me what it wants to be. I write simpler musical parts that follow and complement the words and take up less sonic space. I can hear melodies that work to support the chords and words—and they are something I can sing. I still consider myself to be somewhat limited as a singer so if I can sing a melody, I figure any real singer can sing it. But let’s be clear—simple doesn’t mean uninteresting. As the songs are telling me who they are and how they want to be played, they also show me different chord progressions that I wouldn’t play from just messing around on the guitar or from a normal practice session.

The final piece is putting it all together, playing and singing the song. While that seems obvious, this is where the song is refined into an actual performable piece of music. Words that make sense on the page don’t necessarily sing well nor do your ‘interesting chords’ always work with your words. Sometimes what you hear in your head sounds very different when it’s your hands and voice bringing it out into the world. The song has the final say, and some editing and adjustments are usually necessary to make it playable and singable together.

This is what is working for me. Your mileage may vary. I encourage everyone with any thought of trying their hand at songwriting to do so. It doesn’t matter where you start—with words, with music, or everything all at once. Just write and see what happens. Keep in mind that you aren’t expected to write the next number one hit on your first try. Or even your fiftieth try. Or ever. Just write what you have to say. Keep writing and refining. Analyze your favorite songs from your favorite artists or bands. What is it about those songs that move you? Put some of that in the songs you write. Some will stink but some will shine. Don’t be afraid to edit, rewrite, and refine them. That’s part of the process. Keep working and you’ll get better. And maybe, someday, you’ll write that mythical “it came to me in five minutes” hit song. I’m still working on it…

Need to know? Just ask… Charlie (ask.charlie@hotmail.com)