I’m often asked, “How do you go about writing a song?” More often than not it’s a murky and amorphous process, filled with uncertainty and difficult to quantify, but it occurred to me that it would be helpful, both for me as well as those who had posed the question, to see if I could shed a little light on the commonalities that exist from one song to another. In doing so, I came across the idea of the “Concept,” the creative germ that exists long before the writing process begins, a blueprint that, when followed, triggers a set of actions the inevitable result of which is a finished composition, whether it takes ten minutes or ten years. Today I share one of these concepts with you.
In 2010 I wrote a blog post titled Ten Years and Still Walking. “Strange feelings abound,” I wrote. I remember tremulously hitting “post” on only the second blog I’d ever written, wondering if I was an idiot for sharing my thoughts so, and specifically for having shared a demo of a piece “so early on in its development.” Twelve years later and I find myself knee-deep in the process of writing a fantasy ebook series, releasing a concept album, two singles, and a live EP all in the space of a year while surprisingly not burning out, and Still Walking, which had fallen out of my direct purview for the better part of eight years, suddenly appears within the crosshairs in the form of the musical project Continuity. And thus, the question, “How did I write the song Still Walking?” What was the Concept, and how did it precipitate the process that would lead to the composition?
With Still Walking the Concept is musical. One cannot understand the underlying DNA of this song without being familiar with another two pieces. Still Walking is part of the greater work Continuity, a rock opera that explores mental illness and which is the thematic sequel to States of Matter, the first major piece I wrote, back in 2000. In States of Matter there is one song in particular that has generated a sort of musical meme that has permeated at least a few of songs that I have written. That song is Walking Away, and its (known) scions are the songs No Need to Hide (States of Matter), Light Up These Eyes (Ray of Sunshine), and finally, Still Walking (Continuity).
With Still Walking, part of the song’s raison d’être was to be a link to its ancestor Walking Away. The respective characters in both songs are trying to convince themselves that they are strong enough to “walk,” be it away from a toxic relationship, or physically, having suffered a debilitating illness. To quote Walking Away, I started with a syncopated vi-I/3-IV chord motif. Along with the phrase, “I’m still walking,” this became the song’s underlying Concept. (Incidentaly, I also wanted to quote the song Rain from States of Matter, which I managed to do in the last line of the chorus plus in the background accompaniment in the bridge).
With Still Walking, part of the song’s raison d’être was to be a link to its ancestor Walking Away. The respective characters in both songs are trying to convince themselves that they are strong enough to “walk,” be it away from a toxic relationship, or physically, having suffered a debilitating illness. To quote Walking Away, I started with a syncopated vi-I/3-IV chord motif. Along with the phrase, “I’m still walking,” this became the song’s underlying Concept. (Incidentaly, I also wanted to quote the song Rain from States of Matter, which I managed to do in the last line of the chorus plus in the background accompaniment in the bridge).
Once I was solid on this, the remaining process was more engineering than anything else. The vi-I/3-IV progression in the beginning of the chorus brought about an ascending ii-I/3-IV-V chorus hook, returning us to the tonic.
Once that was determined, the called-for complementary progression, which would be used in the verses, almost inevitably, had to be descending. I decided upon a descending bass line—1, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2—with corresponding harmonies, with a II7-V turnaround, using the “secondary dominant” (for the geeks out there—you’re in good company), for a little bit of extra tension to propel us into the chorus.
As I touched on previously, the bridge mirrors then entire harmonic universe of the other two sections, by being almost entirely ascending harmonically. It even contains a modulation, one whole-step upwards; after the contemplative introspection of the verses and choruses, the song felt as though it needed some lift. The downchorus returns us to a sense of uncertainty, with the final two choruses a defiant statement of self-belief in the face of overwhelming odds.
In many ways the lyrics of a song are the most difficult component of the songwriting process, in my experience because they are messy, emotion-bound, and while not everyone can claim to be a musical composer, everyone deep down kind of thinks they’re a writer (I should know, writing a fantasy ebook series with absolutely no qualifications to do so). Similar to Walking Away I wanted to keep the lyrical content of this song simple. That said, I’m a huge sucker for the jumble of internal and regular rhyming patterns, in this case ABCD, ABED, as such, in the second verse:
You said (A)
Goodbye (B)
Gotta find some (C) place to play (D)
Eyes (f) red (A)
Won’t cry (B)
Gonna shed (*A) these (E) skies (*f) of grey (D)
If I may say so myself, I was especially pleased with the internal “tapback” rhyme (A) of “eyes red,” and “gonna shed,” as well as the unnecessary, unintentional, but very satisfying rhyming of “eyes” with “skies.” Love it when a plan (or, maybe, sheer dumb luck?) comes together. Generally speaking, any thoughts I have about lyrics are humble ones. I don’t really have much by way of technical know-how to this process; it’s mostly a lot of probing and asking the song where it wants to take me. I do, however, use perfect rhyme, however, for example: (not from Walking Away)
half/imperfect rhyme :
"Do it right,
Do it kind,"
full/perfect rhyme :
"Do it right,
Through the night,"
It’s just a school I grew up in (from Carole King to Stephen Sondheim) and I find it way more challenging to do, and also way more satisfying (probably explains why I stopped listening to pop radio around 2011). I supposed I might recommend, lyricwise, staying connected with the emotional core of the character in the particular moment that the song is taking place. What are the chemicals (hormones, emotions, cognitions) in their body trying to make them do? What are their deep desires (doesn’t matter how dark)? And then relay them as accurately as possible.
:)
:)
I’ll look forward to possibly doing more of these. I’ve got a whole mess of songs, each of whom came with its own version of this process. I hope you found this interesting and that it gave a little clue-in to what can often be considered a baffling if near impossible process. As you can see, with this entry, I included notated music as an aid to the various explanations. If you’d like to hear audio, or even see video, I could look into doing that for future entries.
Many thanks. Travel safe and talk soon.
Many thanks. Travel safe and talk soon.
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