I'm coming to the end of a nearly two-year project, writing a new song most weeks for a current events program on community radio. Take5 has a "can-do" spirit and its executive producer was open to the idea of having a songwriter write something every week, inspired by a story on the show. Ultimately I wrote 69 songs for the program, before I felt an inner signal that it was time to move on. I have a special affection for all of those Songs of the Week (unexpected gifts, each and every one) and I'm grateful for the lessons I learned while writing them. Here are some of them.
1. If you can write one song a week, you can write a dozen. Creativity fuels itself, and there is no limit to how many ideas one can have in any period of time. The limitations we place on ourselves are arbitrary. In most cases the "song" of the week was actually two or three or four, sometimes different approaches to the same topic but sometimes new songs altogether. I just picked the one that I found the most inspiring.
2. Nothing lasts. The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi is: Nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, nothing lasts. As each song was written, each song immediately passed into "last week". The practice of letting go, week after week, was healthy. Even when a song garnered further attention, it only did so for a limited period of time, because I had to keep writing.
3. I am deeply and continually influenced by others. In writing a song a week, I was constantly aware of the work of other songwriters, but instead of letting that get in the way (through comparisons, jealousy or worry over plagiarism) I decided to consciously invite the other writers in, as if to help. So I felt I was guided by a lot of invisible, experienced hands.
4. Each song matters, and doesn't. You have to imagine it could change the world and have momentous impact, while being aware at the same time that it likely will not. This awareness of two apparent opposites allows one to write something that neither lacks substance nor gets bogged down in a sense of self-importance.
5. It's okay to work every which way. Use every and any tool or method you can to accomplish your goal. Don't get locked into pre-defined methods of working. What worked last week might not be appropriate for this week. Stay flexible.
6. It's not a competition. I have a tendency to rank stuff and pick winners and losers. I noticed the inclination to do this with the Song of the Week, and I saw that all that ranking didn't matter at all. I could let go of trying to pick the winning horse or predict which song might "go somewhere". None of them could, and all of them already had.
6. Honour the seed. No matter how "polished" or "finished" I wanted the songs to be, they stubbornly remained exactly what they were: fresh, small, fragile things...each of which held the potential to gain confidence and strength with repeated playings. If I had gotten caught up in perfection and full-fledged-ness at the start, I would have stopped the project after a few weeks, realizing that the timeframe and my own limitations would never permit polished, concert-level performance. I remember the point at which I realized that. I'm glad I decided to continue...to honour the seed. In life, there are many such seeds.
7. If you believe in it, it will come. The most valuable technique I used was the belief that the song was meant to be, and that it already existed...and only need my midwifery to bring it to the world. That outlook was, I think, just as important as a wide range of guitar chords, a taste for novelty, a good work ethic, a willingness to experiment and to potentially fail, and a lifelong fascination with songs and the creative process--all of which were essential too.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Friday, August 01, 2008
The 100 Mile Artist
Lately I've been thinking a lot about the 100-Mile Diet: eating locally to make a positive change for the planet. It's an important idea. I'm really excited about reducing the amount of time and money I spend in big chain grocery stores, and walking instead to a farmer's market where I can buy locally grown food.
It got me thinking: how can songwriters apply the principles of "think globally, eat locally" to our music life? Is there value in being a 100-Mile Artist and writing a 100-Mile Song?
I think there is, even though we live in the Internet Age. Our music is now available at the touch of a button, as conveniently as our food and more cheaply than ever before. We consume music like we consume food and other products and entertainment: voraciously, often without any personal connection to how or where it's made.
As songwriters who want to be successful by our culture's standards, we tend to think that our music has to travel far in order to matter. We need to tour widely, or at least be heard beyond our local communities, via radio or the Net. We tend to believe (sometimes it's an unconscious thing) that a non-touring local musician, especially one who hasn't recorded his or her work, is less important than one whose product is shipped a greater distance.
But if we actually start living as environmental leaders recommend, getting more of our food closer to home, and choosing to buy and consume less, we might also start to value local artists in new ways. Local songwriters might feel more empowered to write songs grown organically in a real time and place...and we might not feel badly anymore if those songs (or if we as individuals) don't travel so much.
This re-framing might encourage songwriters to respond in a more particular, specific way about what's going on in their neighbourhoods, and to consciously sing the songs for the people there. The aim of writing a great song would be not to have it recorded by a big Nashville star, but to help actual people, right here and now. That kind of song, like that kind of great-tasting organic food, is nourishing to the soul. If songs are like food, maybe we can grow our own.
Of course, for anyone to buy the song (locally or otherwise), it had better be GOOD! Nobody, anywhere, wants a song that has no melody or whose lyrics are meaningless. Nobody will enjoy a tasteless or bland song that's supposed to be good for you just because it's local. That's why it's essential that those of us who are 100-Mile Songwriters create truly high-quality songs: songs that are on par with the widely-distributed "hits" of our times. There's no reason the next "Imagine" (or "The Rose" or "Blowing in the Wind" or "Heart of Gold", or...) couldn't be written in your town. It's just that in our commercially-driven culture, it's unlikely to be recognized. It's time we got better at that recognition process.
First of all, we can start appreciating the ways that excellent locally-grown entertainment enriches us. We can take pride in it, and be appreciative and grateful for it, without immediately thinking it should be exported. Instead of hearing a great song and saying "Wow, you should get Celebrity So-and-So to sing that" or "you should get it promoted to radio" or "get it used in a movie", we could learn to say, "Your song helped me get through my day" or "I always feel good when I hear you play" or simply, "thank you". That's enough. That, and a fair price to hear that musician perform, and a fair amount to purchase his or her recording--which was produced on a sustainable budget.
[As I write this, the rest of my family is hungrily devouring the MMVA's...the Much Music Video Awards...which features many celebrity artists who are the equivalent of the Oreo cookies in our cupboard. I find I often crave them, too. We are products of our culture. But as the priorities of our culture change, in response to urgent environmental and social needs, local artists could become valuable sources of direction, hope and wisdom. May we grow the best food we can.]
It got me thinking: how can songwriters apply the principles of "think globally, eat locally" to our music life? Is there value in being a 100-Mile Artist and writing a 100-Mile Song?
I think there is, even though we live in the Internet Age. Our music is now available at the touch of a button, as conveniently as our food and more cheaply than ever before. We consume music like we consume food and other products and entertainment: voraciously, often without any personal connection to how or where it's made.
As songwriters who want to be successful by our culture's standards, we tend to think that our music has to travel far in order to matter. We need to tour widely, or at least be heard beyond our local communities, via radio or the Net. We tend to believe (sometimes it's an unconscious thing) that a non-touring local musician, especially one who hasn't recorded his or her work, is less important than one whose product is shipped a greater distance.
But if we actually start living as environmental leaders recommend, getting more of our food closer to home, and choosing to buy and consume less, we might also start to value local artists in new ways. Local songwriters might feel more empowered to write songs grown organically in a real time and place...and we might not feel badly anymore if those songs (or if we as individuals) don't travel so much.
This re-framing might encourage songwriters to respond in a more particular, specific way about what's going on in their neighbourhoods, and to consciously sing the songs for the people there. The aim of writing a great song would be not to have it recorded by a big Nashville star, but to help actual people, right here and now. That kind of song, like that kind of great-tasting organic food, is nourishing to the soul. If songs are like food, maybe we can grow our own.
Of course, for anyone to buy the song (locally or otherwise), it had better be GOOD! Nobody, anywhere, wants a song that has no melody or whose lyrics are meaningless. Nobody will enjoy a tasteless or bland song that's supposed to be good for you just because it's local. That's why it's essential that those of us who are 100-Mile Songwriters create truly high-quality songs: songs that are on par with the widely-distributed "hits" of our times. There's no reason the next "Imagine" (or "The Rose" or "Blowing in the Wind" or "Heart of Gold", or...) couldn't be written in your town. It's just that in our commercially-driven culture, it's unlikely to be recognized. It's time we got better at that recognition process.
First of all, we can start appreciating the ways that excellent locally-grown entertainment enriches us. We can take pride in it, and be appreciative and grateful for it, without immediately thinking it should be exported. Instead of hearing a great song and saying "Wow, you should get Celebrity So-and-So to sing that" or "you should get it promoted to radio" or "get it used in a movie", we could learn to say, "Your song helped me get through my day" or "I always feel good when I hear you play" or simply, "thank you". That's enough. That, and a fair price to hear that musician perform, and a fair amount to purchase his or her recording--which was produced on a sustainable budget.
[As I write this, the rest of my family is hungrily devouring the MMVA's...the Much Music Video Awards...which features many celebrity artists who are the equivalent of the Oreo cookies in our cupboard. I find I often crave them, too. We are products of our culture. But as the priorities of our culture change, in response to urgent environmental and social needs, local artists could become valuable sources of direction, hope and wisdom. May we grow the best food we can.]
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