Is every song a topical song?

Every song is written in a specific time and place, by a particular person.

As soon as the song is finished, the writer has grown and changed. (Remember the concept of wabi-sabi: nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, and nothing lasts!)

Ideally, we want to pay close enough attention to whatever's going on in our lives to we reflect on it accurately and with real depth of feeling. We can take that approach to any topic: whether it's feeding our two year-old or responding to coverage of a major international event.

The details will be different, but the task is still the same: to create something that honestly reflects one moving human experience, in a way that others find meaningful.

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Last year I wrote the song "Prayer for Port au Prince" in response to the Jan. 12 2010 earthquake in Haiti. In it, I tried to make reference to the current events and historical facts, while wrestling with personal issues having to do with charity, religion and response to global suffering.

Here's video from a concert performance, with proceeds directed to Medicins sans Frontieres.

Songwriting as a Spiritual Practice: Rehearsal

As songwriters in today's culture, we're accustomed to thinking of our practice time in goal-oriented terms. We may focus only on the songs we think are likely to earn us the most recognition...only our "newest" or "best" songs...or only the songs we plan to play in an upcoming performance.

When we align our songwriting only with aspirations for acclaim, we overlook the rich possibilities it offers for spiritual deepening. Seen as a form of spiritual practice, our "practice" time can be a richly illuminating experience and one that informs every aspect of our lives.

To re-frame your rehearsal time as spiritual practice, it can be helpful to piggyback it onto an existing practice routine. Plan to play and sing for a set period of time (say, 15 minutes) immediately following your yoga, meditation, prayer or walking practice.

In doing so, you may find that you are more "present" and receptive to your instrument, your breathing, your mind and your voice. You may find yourself more attuned to unexpected inspiration: perhaps a song you haven't played for awhile that suddenly occurs to you.

This morning, I found myself playing a very old song. I didn't know why I was playing it! To my surprise, a lyric in the last verse shed new light on a current situation.

Because my rehearsal time was oriented as spiritual practice, my mind was calm, receptive and non-judging. I was able to allow my inner wisdom to bubble up. I played the song well too--despite it not being in my regular repertoire.

When practice time becomes part of our spiritual practice, it can become a joyful and freeing experience, opening up new possibilities for our lives as songwriters.

Facebook Scrabble Song for Alex

Back in September, 2008, I wrote a song inspired by "Scrabulous", the online word game that was threatened with extinction over copyright issues.  The matter was resolved (the game is now called "Lexulous") and "The Facebook Scrabble Song" seemed destined for the scrap heap of topical songs that are no longer topical.

Then my talented songwriting friend Alex Hickey mentioned in my class for songwriters that she and her mom play scrabble on Facebook.

I said, "I have a song about that!"  (It's one of those golden moments all songwriters hope for.) 

Now Alex has announced that she's moving home to Nova Scotia.  I think her mother may live there.  If so, I hope they get to play lots of Scrabble in person--and Lexulous online, too.



P.S.  I've written a couple of other songs that comment on our relationship with the Internet.  "Twitter in my Heart" is one and "Embrace Me" is another.  On the whole, I tend to favour face-to-face experiences over online ones...but here we are on the Internet!  Paradox is beautiful.

Piles of Leaves

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds
- Buddha

Nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, and nothing lasts
- Japanese concept of wabi-sabi

I started this post on a beautiful fall day in Toronto, about a week ago. On that Friday, it was warm enough that weathercasters were using the phrase "unseasonably warm temperatures" a lot. Our happy enjoyment of the warm breeze had a shadow side to it: the thought that maybe climate change was responsible...that darker days are coming and that the beauty may not last. Meanwhile...

Over coffee, a friend confided that she does love the messed-up guy who can't be fully present for her...

A woman leaves her job in the midst of a conflict she is unable to resolve...

An artist recognizes that her career may never bear fruit the way she had hoped...

A caregiver comes to terms with her elderly friend's decline and acknowledges her own limitations.

Meanwhile leaves fall from the trees today: graceful golden pages against a blue sky, numerous and silent, falling without fanfare. No one loss more particularly sad than another, and piling up in crunchy ways that are strangely satisfying in their abundance. The losses add up to something both sad and reassuring, and we can't avoid walking through them.

Over coffee, my friend remarks that so many stories do not end neatly...perhaps are never really finished.

Another leaf gracefully falls through blue sky.

My song,  "Pile of Leaves"

Election Sign

It's been a few weeks since the Toronto municipal election when Rob Ford was elected mayor.

It's still a little bit of a shock to realize that he won: a man so evidently out of his depth, whose ideas  reveal such lack of insight, sophistication and compassion.  My teenage children were especially shocked and dismayed by the outcome.  But we told them the sun would rise the next day...and it did.  I remember my dad saying something like that to me when George W. Bush won...twice.

'How could this happen?' we wondered.  It's an imperfect world. 

The election signs are down now and we'll have to live with Ford for awhile.  But at least we live in a democracy.  At least we can talk openly about what we feel needs to change in our communities.  At least we can still agree to disagree.  

If the guy at the top ends up making a lot of mistakes, maybe it will mobilize the rest of us to keep talking to each other, keep working together, keep standing up for our beliefs.

Keep changing what we can, from our own little patch of green.

Writing with Presence

When we are open to Wisdom speaking through our songs, we start hearing Wisdom’s voice.

It’s like working with dreams. When you start noticing them, writing them down in a notebook perhaps, they become clearer and easier to remember—almost as if, when they know they’re going to be treated well, they show up. It’s the same with God, the Higher Power or Great Creator. When you invite Divine Presence to participate in your songwriting, suddenly you find you have a pretty effective co-writer.

Give it a try. Next time you’re writing a song, pause from time to time (maybe when your brain feels a little stuck) and invite in Divine Presence. This invitation can take the form of simply breathing in light or listening to silence. Or it can take the form of prayer to God or to the Ancestors (perhaps songwriters you admire or wise elders in any form). Above all, it’s an allowing, an invitation and a willingness to be participated with: to be shaped and moved by something more powerful than yourself.

From this receptive stance, you may find that lyrics mysteriously drop into place or strong ideas occur to you “out of the blue”. Coincidences may happen that serve your song. For example, when I was writing a song about my father who recently died, a close friend of his emailed me to reflect on something Dad used to say: a phrase that was exactly the line I needed for the verse I was working on.

It doesn’t matter whether you call it Divine Presence, God, the Unconscious, Inner Wisdom or the Great Songwriter in the Sky. That which joins everything together intelligently is just waiting to apply Its talents to your song. All we have to do is provide the invitation.

Choosing

Writing any song requires choice. Every choice defines and limits us, which makes it a significant thing.

A thousand choices face us as we begin to write. What is our subject? What is the form? The main idea? The melody? The chord progression? And these are only the broad strokes: beneath these come the more subtle choices of notes and words, and beyond that, instantaneous choices we make as we sing and play.

How many of our songwriting choices are truly conscious ones? What do they say about us: about who we are and what we believe?

Try this. When you first wake up in the morning or just before you go to sleep, write a simple song as quickly as possible. Don't worry about whether or not it will be performed for others. Just put it out there, to yourself and the Universe, without judgment and without agonizing over any choices at all. Write at least two or three verses, then stop and look at it.

What does it say? Does it reveal something about your life that you hadn't seen before?

By working this way, we allow our Song to choose what it wants to say, instead of letting our Ego do the talking all the time. Interestingly, the Song might be able to make choices freely (to improvise) more easily than we can, as it nimbly hops from one truth-full moment to another.

Protest Songs (One Songwriter's Response to the Toronto G20)

Any event that triggers strong emotion is excellent material for songwriting.

When our heart is touched deeply by an event, either in our own relationships or the wider world, we can come to understand that experience more deeply through any form of artistic creativity.

Exploring a serious topical subject in a song can do several positive things.

Writing a song can help us tune into the emotional heart of the subject (which varies from person to person)...thus clarifying our own values and beliefs. This is a healthy thing to do, especially when the subject can seem overwhelming. (These two songs were inspired by events that took place at the recent G20 Summit in Toronto. For additional background on what happened and its implications, watch this video and read this op-ed piece written by a Conservative MPP.)

Writing a song can give us a sense of agency and self-determination, allowing us to "change the things we can" (in the words of the Serenity Prayer) when there are so many things we can't.

Finally, writing a song can allow us to share our deepest feelings with others in a way that promotes healing and community...and can educate others about subjects that might not be well-covered in traditional media. If a song influences even a few people, it can be a force of change.

(While I was writing this entry, I received an email update from David Rovics, who is a tireless writer of modern protest songs, chronicling many stories of human concern. Also, Greg Quill wrote an insightful column in the Toronto Star recently about the state of protest songs today.)

This Sufi wisdom sits above my desk: "You are sharing in the totality of [cosmic] pain. You are called upon to meet it in joy instead of self-pity. The secret is to offer your heart as a vehicle to transform cosmic suffering into joy."

Seen in this light, "topical" songs or even "protest" songs might more accurately be seen as "healing" songs: songs that arise as a result of pain, confusion, violence or fear...but that attempt to move people (starting with the songwriter) to greater peace, understanding, reconciliation or purpose.

The process of songwriting allows us to start with dissonance and create harmony...to experience tension but to move toward resolution.

Songs can teach us that such transformation is possible.

Song Listening

One way to think about songwriting is to turn it around and make it "song-listening".

We're often concerned about the technical parts of songwriting...the putting together of elements, the craftsmanship involved. But if we haven't listened well to begin with--to hear what our hearts are really saying--we might be writing the wrong song.

I've been re-reading a book called "A Path With Heart: A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of Spiritual Life" by Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield. In it, he quotes Joseph Campbell's observation that we can be "climbing the ladder only to realize it was against the wrong wall".

There are so many ladders to climb! And every song represents a pretty tall one. Which song do I embark on today? Where will it lead? To a place of greater self-awareness and peace of mind...or to a place of insecurity and competition?

Can I listen well enough to hear my true song?

What goes around comes around

On Sunday at our songwriting class, we talked about calling upon spiritual sources of support as we are writing. We mentioned prayer, meditation, connecting with nature, invoking the spirits of ancestors, seeing the work as already existing (much like the sculptor uncovering the figure inside the stone).

It was suggested that when we hit an impasse, the uncomfortable feeling of confusion or perplexedness might be reframed as Mystery (something we can curiously explore rather than be anxious about) and that by collaborating with a Higher Power we might take some of the pressure off ourselves.

Earlier in the class, I shared a song-beginning that had started out well but hit a snag. The song was based on last week's lesson, having to do with patterns in life and in music. It was called "What Goes Around Comes Around"...but it hadn't come around to being finished.

Yesterday, a day later, a strange and wonderful thing happened. As planned, a beautiful upright piano arrived at our home, a gift to our keyboard-playing children from a generous friend who is downsizing. It had been her childhood piano. She simply gave it away.

I was away at an appointment when the piano arrived. When I got back, Dave told me about the amazing thing that happened next. "Hank" arrived at the door. We hadn't seen him for years; he used to live in the basement apartment of the falling-down house across the street, which was subsequently bought, renovated and sold. A long time ago, Hank told me he had once played guitar...so I gave him an old 12-string I used to play that had been in storage for awhile. (I told him he could keep it, and it was free.)

Last night, he came to the door to thank me again. He said he'd become very attached to it, and wondered if he could pay something for it. (No.)

That all would have been miracle enough, but then as I was falling asleep last night, I remembered my unfinished song--the one I'd "asked" for spiritual assistance to complete, in the class.

"What goes around comes around".

Applause

In a songwriting class I'm teaching, we're experimenting with applause.

Every other week, we refrain from clapping after people play their songs around the circle. On the weeks in between, we applaud as usual.

I am curious to see how this changes both our playing and our listening.

So far, one student has told me that, when she knows there won't be an opportunity to politely show appreciation after a song (whether she likes it or not) she listens better and is more present.

Other songwriter/performers seem uncomfortable with the idea (as I myself have been at times) thinking that applause is a necessary expression of respect and appreciation. Without it, what's an audience to do? Why would a performer perform?

Our next class is an "applause" week.

Knowing that we can't always take applause for granted, I wonder whether we'll enjoy giving and receiving it more.

An opening act stays open

This Saturday night, I will be opening for James Keelaghan in a concert for the Greenbank Folk Music Society in the small town of Greenbank, Ontario. (Avid readers will notice that, by coincidence, I recently mentioned James Keelaghan in this blog. Funny how the universe works!)

In their bios, many singer-songwriters include impressive lists of artists they've opened for. My list is pretty short: not because I've moved rapidly into headliner status, but because my artistic life hasn't been a straight line up any kind of ladder. So...let's see...I opened for Jesse Winchester at Hugh's Room once. I opened for Cheryl Wheeler once (but with a few other artists, and as the result of a songwriting workshop the same day). Once, thanks to a supportive sound man at a huge county fair, I played a solo set on a stage made out of a flatbed truck before Prairie Oyster came on...but I don't think that counts as "opening".

And this Saturday I'm opening for James Keelaghan! Yay!

Truly, I am very excited about this. I've always admired his songwriting and singing. He covers a song I love (that I sometimes sing too) called Mirabeau Bridge by Sam Larkin. When I say "it's an honour" to open for Keelaghan, I mean it. And in order to truly honour myself, the headliner and the audience, it helps to keep a few things in mind.

For me, the key to making the most of an opening spot is, first, to NOT see it as a stepping-stone to anywhere else. (Stay with me now...) I think this is easier if you notice that instead of "getting somewhere" more prestigious or special through music, you've gotten to exactly where you are now, and you're okay with that. In other words, this is not a stepping-stone...it's the whole stone! It's solid and perfect just as it is.

Another essential awareness is that, as the opener, you're not "lesser than" the more-famous headliner. You're you. He's him. That's it.

The "opener/headliner" story is an example of the kind of dualistic thinking that can really trip us up. Similar dichotomies are "on the way up/on the way down", "famous/obscure", "professional/amateur" and of course "success/failure".

We're so busy labelling ourselves and each other, we miss the realness of the situation and the fact that we're on common ground. On Saturday night James Keelaghan will be singing some beautiful songs he wrote, for an audience of 70 or so people in a church, as will I. For that matter, so will thousands of other musicians around the world. When you look at it, even the dividing line between performer and audience is a false one. We're all breathing the same air and hearing the same melodies...it's just that one of us happens to be playing them at this moment.

As the opening act, it's easy to fall into the trap of thinking "I'm not quite there yet" or I'm not as valuable as the headliner. Certainly, the entertainment industry itself (and the difference in our fees) seems to support that illusion. But if we're really tuned in to the moment, those judgments fall away, allowing us to remain truly open: responding in the moment to the music and the audience, offering our gifts in a spirit of enthusiasm and kindness, and supporting the headliner without feelings of jealousy or inferiority.

As the opening act, we have a wonderful opportunity to remain truly open...to the beauty of our creative lives, wherever they have led us.

For a Singer-Songwriter on the Verge of Quitting

Recently I was asked to tell a fellow singer-songwriter not to quit. This request came from one of the artist's fans...someone who was quite mystified as to why this musician would consider taking his music out of the public eye. Although the artist and I have never met, I understood why he might feel discouraged. Even though I'm not as passionate a fan as the man who asked for my help, I recognize the value of this artist's work and hope he will continue. Here's the advice I gave him, which is pretty much the same advice I give myself.

• Perform locally as much as possible. Create gigs if you have to, even in unusual venues such as community centres, bookstores, friend's homes, wherever. Publicize these gigs through local media (community papers, community radio etc.) and inexpensive mailing lists, blogging etc. Connect your songs to a real-life community.

• Travel to play outside your local market as your schedule, inclination and budget allows.

• Become the best songwriter you can. (Which is to say, write a LOT of songs, over a LONG time.) But do so because you love to write songs and because it helps you make sense of your life and become a better person--not because you want to become better-known.

• Serve, serve, serve, serve, serve. Sing at church...community soup kitchens...schools. Become known as the songwriter who sings about... [whatever you know about and love].

• Record affordably, while showcasing your work appropriately. Develop an ability to see the work itself (the songs) outside the expensive frame.

• Listen to your own recordings and play your songs for your own enrichment and enjoyment.

• Keep your day job. It can provide a reliable source of income and validation.

• Keep your website...and any other online presence that is easy and cheap to maintain (ie MySpace, Facebook). Maintain a balance between online and offline life.

• If you want to, do one big concert once a year or so, by renting a venue, setting a ticket price and inviting people. Have somebody take great pictures. Write it up online and/or have someone interview you for the local paper etc. & spread the word about that.

• Connect your music to your spiritual life. Develop a spiritual practice, ie. meditation, yoga, prayer. See your personal musical expression as part of something much larger than yourself.

• Work out of a sense of love, joy, gratitude and generosity. But when you're angry and afraid, explore that too. Do your best to reflect what it is to be human (which is, all too often, to experience failure).

• Never compare yourself to others and resist the temptation to feel as if you’re in competition with other artists.

• Recognize that there are more artists creating today than there are money-making opportunities to support all of them (…a result of the “perfect storm” of inexpensive recording technology, the Internet, and popular movements toward creativity and purposeful living a la The Artist’s Way).

• Recognize that there is no system for success in the arts (particularly music) and that the ladders we sometimes seem to climb are largely illusory (ie. you may win a song contest, but find that your life and career stay virtually the same).

• Appreciate your fans, wherever you find them. Hear them when they tell you that you have changed their life. Do not measure the worth of your art by the size of your audience, but rather by the quality of connection you create with the people you serve.

Casualties: A Reflection on "Crazy Heart"

Last night I went to see "Crazy Heart", the new movie in which Jeff Bridges plays a 57-year old formerly successful country singer, whose alcoholism is progressing while he's falling in love and watching his younger protege Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) achieve stardom.

A charismatic performer with a handful of hit songs, Bad Blake manages to pull himself together (more or less) onstage, backed by pick-up bands in bowling alleys and tiny clubs. But between gigs he's bored, drunk and bitter, enlivened by his new love (Maggie Gyllenhaal) and her little boy, but not much else.

Disillusioned by the fact that he's not headlining for big crowds in huge stadiums, he's oblivious to the enduring admiration of the fans who gather in the rooms he's actually playing...and blind as well to the awe-inspiring beauty of the American Southwest that accompanies him on his solo drives from town to town.

While most of the singer-songwriters I know never have played huge stadiums, many of us share some of Bad's self-defeating characteristics. Whether or not we abuse alcohol or drugs, we're prone to self-pity and apt to wish we were somewhere else. We often compare ourselves to others, even if the other singers we're comparing ourselves to are only marginally more successful than we are. Many wind up in financial trouble, relationship trouble, or both.

In Bad's case, his early career success is enough to provide him with at least some financial options (opening for Tommy Sweet at the stadium, writing songs for him to record). But artists who have never achieved any level of commercial success--and there are many more of them these days--are at risk of the same kind of depression and addiction problems as Bad Blake, but with less likelihood of a happy ending. Reflecting on that, I wrote this lyric last year:

There I go, corkscrew down
Another go-round in a same-song town
There I go, whining again
Stuck in the mud of the might-have-beens
I’m making a mess of my melodies
Investing in my insecurities
Like all of the wasted and wannabes
Don’t count me among those casualties

Bad Blake I am not: no hits, no stadiums in my past or future, and no alcohol or drug problem...and yet I know how he feels. So, what do I do about that? Here are a few things that help:

- Practicing gratitude: for life, for love, for my existing audience, for music, for the beauty of each day
- Caring for the people I love, including myself
- Eating well, exercising
- Meditating and deepening my spirituality
- Living by the Serenity Prayer: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

These mental and spiritual health habits (which Bad Blake starts to use at the end of the film) also help me see that I'm not "bad" at all (as neither is he) if I do not achieve whatever success I had hoped for in music.

To quote one of the fine songs written by the late Stephen Bruton for the film: "I used to be somebody, now I'm somebody else". The challenge facing many of us is not figuring out how to achieve fame and fortune--but how to live well, even if we don't. To simply live well as a loving, responsible human being--neither larger-than-life nor smaller.

T.H.I.N.K.

I heard a helpful bit of wisdom today that's been around awhile but was new to me. "THINK before you speak" is attributed to the English clergyman Alan Redpath (1907 - 1989).

His idea was simple. Before you speak, ask yourself if what you're about to say is:

T = True
H = Helpful
I = Inspiring
N = Necessary, and
K = Kind

The advice is well-timed for me, because just yesterday, I caught myself saying a few things that, well, I should have "THINKed" about first. It's helpful for me to have this acronym in my life right now.

It can also be a good yardstick to use while sizing up new songs, new blog posts, Facebook comments...you name it.

At a time when there's more communication than ever, THINKing can help prevent harmful misunderstandings and unnecessary conflict.

These Friends, My Songs

Before most gigs, I write up a set list. Even though I inevitably rearrange the order of songs when I’m onstage, adding some and subtracting others, I find that the timely creation of a set list centers and calms me, giving me a sense of competence and purpose and soothing my pre-show nerves.

As I type up the lists of familiar song-titles, it occurs to me that I have come to think of these songs as friends, of a sort. Each song name carries with it a set of associations: experiences we have shared, places we have been.

Like human friends, each song has its own unique characteristics: things I love about it and traits that sometimes pose a challenge. As the years go by and I spend more time with each song in turn (each performance not unlike a shared cup of coffee) I get to know it better, and my appreciation and understanding of it deepens—unless, of course, we ultimately decide that we just don’t get along and we part ways.

These friends, my songs, hang around in groups. Certain ones stick together on set lists from year to year, complementing each other in particular ways. Sometimes one seems to introduce me to another, or to a whole new bunch. Other songs are loners. I might never write another one like it, and as a result it holds a special place in my life.

As a child, I liked to write lists: my favourite books, records, foods…lists of names for future children and pets…and lists of friends. I identified “best” friends, and as I look at my set lists now, certain ones do stand out as favourites. On the other hand, as an adult I now recognize that each friend plays a special and unique role in my life, so ranking them seem unnecessary. Anne helps me understand marriage and family. Rachel always makes me laugh. When I need peace and comfort, I turn to Mary.

I feel especially close to the songs I’ve known during the decade or so I’ve been singing professionally. Other songs existed before that, but they’re like childhood friends and I’m in touch with only a few of them now. Once in awhile, a forgotten song turns up unexpectedly. A page of lyric falls out of a file folder, like a grade school buddy saying hello on Facebook.

But new friends, they’re the most exciting. The heady rush of discovering a new song feels just like the jump-start of any new relationship. With a new song, you get the kind of excitement you’d get with a new love affair, but without all the messy complications. Plus, songs cannot get jealous of each other. In the set list of life, there’s always room for more.

As I try to balance the many responsibilities of my life, I often feel that I’m not attending adequately to all my human friends. I feel that way about songs at times too—that I'm neglecting them. I’m aware that my semi-regular performing schedule allows some of us to get together only a few times a year.

When I feel this way, the best antidote is a long, private music session in which I play all the songs I know…inviting in as many as I can think of. Reacquainting myself with each of them, I feel reconnected to myself—the stories, settings and observations that make life so rich.

So I gather these friends around me as often as I can, knowing that they won’t always be with me or (more accurately) me with them. They entertain me, give me courage, reflect my deepest feelings, lift me up when I’m down. I am grateful that at times they do the same things for other people. But even when I am the only person they keep company, these friends, my songs, serve me well.

Baffled Songwriters in Cyberspace

This article was first published on Roots Music Canada on January 3rd.


The word was “rhapsody”.

I was looking for a rhyme for it. Ever since I was twelve years old, I’ve puzzled over lyric lines, looking for the right word to fit into the right space.

When I get stuck, or I’m feeling lazy, sometimes I pick up a rhyming dictionary. I have a pocket-sized hardback Webster’s that I like. But on this particular day, it wasn’t on my desk.

So, in a move that reflects the Internet’s increasing influence, I idly typed “What rhymes with ‘rhapsody’?” into Google. To my horror, I discovered a website with hundreds of rhyming questions, posted by modern-day poets and songwriters hoping to be rescued by social networking.

We are entering a new age. Writers used to take long walks, fill blank notebooks, and mentally scroll through the alphabet letter by letter, searching for the best word to complete a verse. Today, aspiring poets and songwriters type in questions such as “What rhymes with trampled?”

Before I go on, I should tell you that according to the website I consulted , a good rhyme for “rhapsody” is “crap city” . Unfortunately that didn’t work very well in my song. But it didn’t matter, because, thus distracted, I suddenly found myself much more interested in the would-be verses of the online community than in my own ballad.

As I scanned the list of questions, I found myself feeling a deepening kinship with my fellow poets worldwide. "What rhymes with frankincense?" wrote one. (I typed in "common sense", trying to be helpful.) “What rhymes with urbanization?” wrote another. (Hmm…"colonization", "state of the nation", "rate of inflation”?)

Some writers seemed genuinely confused, such as the one who asked, "What is a word that rhymes with both big and wall?". Others were simply asking too much, such as the one who inquired, "What rhymes with the element ytterbium?”

Now, I admit, some words are very difficult to rhyme, and as a serious songwriter, I know how hard it can be to make them work. I honestly wish the best for the guy writing a song about rodeos, and I sympathize with the poet who's committed to 'audiovisual'. But sometimes you have to change course, let a beloved word go, try another idea. For the sake of the song, move on!

I think of the great lyricists of days gone by, people like Ira Gershwin and Cole Porter . Of course they got stuck on words, of course they struggled to find rhymes! They didn’t type them into the Internet, hoping to be bailed out. I doubt that Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan do today, either.

To be fair, it’s clear that many of these anonymous, online rhyme-seekers are children. In fact, they’re probably the same age I was when I started writing poetry and songs. As I look over their questions, I can’t help but think that our wired society is failing them. Wouldn’t it be best if the boy who typed “What is a magical person that rhymes with lizard?” came up with the answer on his own? Is there a sadder commentary on the current state of storytelling than the question “What rhymes with tuffet?”

One of my favourite baffled cyber-poets was the person writing about bonfire night. Over the course of an evening, he or she posted two specific questions: “What is a word that rhymes with rocket and is related to bonfire night?" followed, several hours later, by the equally vexing "What rhymes with colours that has to do with bonfire night”? (Mmm… crullers , anyone?)

O bonfire night writer, ye of little faith! If you are moved to write about that bonfire, you can stoke the sputtering embers of your imagination to come up with crackling words on your own! Instead of consulting Answers.com, invoke the spirits of every poet who’s ever moved you, whether it’s Joni Mitchell or Bob Marley , William Shakespeare or Fiona Apple . They would tell you: there are as many ways to write about bonfires as there are people in the world, but only you can write your poem. It is your own answers you are looking for, and they cannot be found on the Internet.

Finally, to the girl or boy who wrote “What golf words rhyme with Grandpa?” I would say: run away from the computer, pick up paper and pen and write down every “golf word” you know (ball, swing, hole, club, tee…) and every “Grandpa word” you know (tall, strong, old, loves…me!). Connect them up in a way that you like, and see what a wonderful poem you will have made.

Take your time, when you need a rhyme. Your brain is still the greatest search engine of all. It can help you find a rhyme for “rhapsody”…or maybe something even better (“rhapsody” reminding me too much of a Burton Cummings song anyway) as it finally did for me.

Message to the Future: Hidden Wisdom in Your Songs

James Keelaghan has a song called “Message to the Future” that lists a number of ways people write time-capsule messages to themselves, including by becoming parents. I believe that as artists, we send out messages to our future selves all the time.

In the same way that dreams send out coded messages from our unconscious to our conscious minds, our songs carry particular signals meant for us and us alone, in addition to any other audiences they reach.

With a little practice, you can learn to discover layers of meaning in your songs that you didn’t even know were there, and that can guide you in your life’s journey. In other words, a song might become a psychic “hit” for you—even if it never earns a penny!

Here’s where to look for those hidden messages:

Words that have more than one meaning

A song of mine is called “I Would Recognize You Anywhere”. When I wrote it, I meant the word “recognize” to mean “to identify someone by sight”, specifically a family member. However, one fan of the song “misunderstood” the word to mean “to affirm, honour or validate”— an alternate meaning I had never even considered. Since then, I have come to understand that the theme of “recognition-as-validation” is central to my life story and family history. As a result, my understanding of the song has become deeper and more nuanced, as have my performances of it.

Recurring symbols

The first time I ever used a house key as a symbol in my writing, I was about six years old. As an adolescent, I had trouble over lost keys…then, in my marriage, a house key became the central image in a story told and re-told to describe recurring conflict. As a musician, I even have a chronic insecurity about not knowing what “key” I’m in! It’s not surprising that one of my personal favourite original songs is called “Keys”. Meditating on that symbol and how it’s manifested itself in my life leads me to new insights. Playing the song is part of that meditation.

Songs you rarely play

Look carefully at any song that embarrasses you or that you never felt was “good enough” to play in public, any song that reveals something about you that you’d rather others not know, any song you rarely (or never) play in public that is alive for you privately. These songs may hold clues to areas of growth or understanding you may be avoiding. When you embrace these songs (whether or not you decide to play them in public) you also embrace parts of yourself that have been disowned.


A song from your long-ago past

If you have been writing songs for some time, you may discover that a song written a long time ago was a symbolic representation of circumstances you didn’t fully understand at the time. Propelled by our unconscious, the songs we write send us messages that our conscious minds cannot—and sometimes it takes years to decode them!

Recently, when I realized that a painful adult situation is a mirror of an unhealed aspect of my childhood, I suddenly remembered a song I had written as a teenager. Without consciously knowing what I was doing, I had described in poetic language the predicament I was in then and that I now find myself in as an adult. Even though I had been a precocious writer as a child, I didn’t have the maturity to consciously understand my situation—but my unconscious mind wrote a song that now sheds light on my life story and helps guide my growth.

If you find yourself in a time of personal challenge or discernment, look to the spiritual and subconscious dimensions of your songs as additional sources of wisdom.

Subscribers & Community

The other day I decided to "unsubscribe" from a music industry-related newsletter. To my surprise, its owner wrote to me immediately, dismayed that I wanted to exit.

I ended up staying on, partly for the information and partly because I had learned that my presence was important to the writer.

In our exchange, he expressed his belief that we are part of a community. I like that idea...and at the same time, I often wonder if true community is possible online.

How well do we know each other, if we only know each other by online profiles and emails? How likely are we to truly support each other when the going gets tough?

Which is more supportive: letting someone unsubscribe without fanfare, or following up...and if so, how?

I've always had a "no questions asked" policy, but after this experience I reconnected with someone who had recently left my list...someone I consider to be part of my genuine, real-life community, even though we've never met. I was very glad I did.

In order to build true community, people on both sides of the equation have to stay very conscious of the needs of others...the need for privacy, need for connection, need for readership...and see how we might best meet those needs.

Creating community is time-consuming and it's hard work...which is the exact opposite of what we often expect online connection to be.

8 Ways to Keep Your Music Alive

Bob Baker writes about email marketing and branding for musicians. His article 7 Ways to Destroy Your Music Career is very witty and insightful…but it also struck me as a tad cynical and possibly dismissive of artists who may be genuinely struggling. Bob's tongue-in-cheek humour speaks to serious issues that affect many of today's independent musicians. I wondered if it would be worthwhile to re-frame his points in a positive way, maybe looking a little deeper at what's really going on in some musicians' "failing careers".

1) Bob writes, tongue-in-cheek: Give Away Your Personal Power

The first step to destroying your music career is to realize that your destiny is in the hands of other people and circumstances beyond your control. Fully embrace the fact that you need to be in the right place at the right time to get your "lucky break" and be "discovered." Industry people and music critics must deem you worthy of success for you to have value as a musician.

1) Translation: Reclaim Your Personal Power

If you feel angry, sad or anxious that you haven’t been recognized by the “powers that be” (whether you see them as industry people, music critics, influential musicians in your community or others), acknowledge your disappointment, but then reclaim your power by doing your best work for the people who appreciate it--whomever and wherever they are. Return to the people who do value you and your work, even if they are few in number and in places that are not part of the recognized music scene.

2. Turn Marketing, Promotion and Sales Into a Huge Burden

…Start referring to marketing as a "necessary evil" quick. Realize that you don't have what it takes to "sell yourself" and reach more fans. In fact, there's probably a biological reason you hate promotion: you were born without the critical marketing gene that all those "gift of gab" people have. Therefore, you are destined to live a lifetime of hardship as you struggle with having to engage in the ugly chore of self-promotion.

2) Maintain a Gentle and Steady Pace with Marketing

It may be true that you find marketing yourself uncomfortable. You may be an introvert, or you may have internalized judgmental messages that “promoting yourself” is self-centered or narcissistic. Get those messages out into the open, realize that they are false, and affirm that what you have to offer is valuable. Strive to communicate well and consistently with the people who want to hear your news, even if this requires you to stretch beyond your comfort zone at times. Reframe the activity as “communication” and “invitation” (or other words that are helpful to you) instead of “marketing” or “promotion”, if those have negative associations for you.

3) Be Fearful of Being Perceived as a Greedy, Capitalist Pig

It would be best not to even make people aware that you have things for sale. Just wait till they come to you. If they're interested, they'll ask. And if you want to score extra points, when they do ask, tell them you left all your CDs and T-shirts at home.

3) Affirm the Value of Your Work

If you have difficulty seeing your work as a commodity, notice your own buying patterns and how happily you spend money on music, books and art that you love. If spoken affirmations work for you, use them to reinforce your belief in the products you have created. Listen to your own work (either the recordings or the songs) and notice how much you love them and how much they have been worth to you. Take pride in these beautiful things you have made.

4) Use a Lack of Time, Money and Connections as Your Biggest Excuse

Have convenient scapegoats based on scarcity. Tell anyone who asks (as well as a lot of people who don't ask or care) how lousy your career is because of all the lack in your life. Frequently use phrases such as "There aren't enough hours in the day," "If I had that kind of money, I'd be a rock star too," and "It's not what you know, it's who you know."

4) Do What You Can With What You Have

Despite the particular challenges you face, make a decision to do your best. Circumstances do vary. Some artists do have more time or money or connections than others. Do not compare yourself to anyone. Instead, ask yourself if you are doing the best you can, today, with what you have. When (not “if”) you feel frustrated by difficult circumstances, use them to deepen your understanding of all human struggle—which in turn will deepen your artistic work.

5) Market Yourself to the Faceless Masses Using Traditional Big Media

Realize that it takes big bucks spent on radio promotion, retail placement, billboards, and paid display ads in national magazines to succeed. This mass media mindset is your ticket to success ... at hitting the fast track to failure.

5) Choose the Vehicle That's Right for You

If you have made the mistake of spending large amounts of money on traditional marketing vehicles that didn’t pay off, chalk it up to experience and don’t do it again. Question your faith in these vehicles. Notice how you, as a consumer, have been influenced by them. Gently acknowledge that, because you have been raised in a commercial consumer culture, you wanted major media attention (or for that matter, alternative media attention) for your work. Forgive your work, and yourself, if it didn't come your way. Protect your financial resources for your own ongoing stability and well-being.

Bonus tip: Never answer your email from fans, and rarely -- if ever -- log into your Facebook, MySpace or Twitter accounts. Better yet, don't even start these accounts.

In the absence of major marketing vehicles, communicate as well as you can with your fans, in the time that is available to you. If your fans are too numerous for you to maintain personal contact with (personally I think the limit is about 100), accept that fact and give yourself permission to stay kindly detached. Use social networking tools consciously and judiciously. Protect your "real life" time, especially time in nature, and be mindful of the addictive quality of electronic communication. Log off when necessary and for as long as necessary. Hans Selye (the Canadian stress researcher, now deceased) wrote: “The great art is to express one’s vitality through the particular channels and at the particular speed Nature foresaw for us.” Protect yourself against stress.

6) Promote Yourself Sporadically and Only When It's Urgent

If you have a mailing list (and with sucky email delivery and open rates these days, why bother?), be sure the fans on your list don't hear from you very often.

6) Keep in Touch

Maintain consistent and kind communication with the people on your list. Keep them informed about events and new music that’s likely to interest them. If your “open rates” are low, add more value to your mailings with relevant links and recommendations, inspirational quotes and other appropriate value-adds.

7) Know That Everyone Owes You Something Simply Because You Exist

Simply know that everyone will care as much about you and your music as you do. Understand that complete strangers will indeed listen to every note of your 70-minute concept album and read every word of your 10-page bio. Be sure to send long, in-depth emails and leave lengthy, rambling voice mail messages for the imbeciles who don't recognize your greatness. Also, be sure to insult anyone who doesn't get back to you within 10 minutes.

7) Respect Your Audience

You know what? I don’t believe that any artist--no matter how incompetent--is actually as ego-driven or self-centred as Bob suggests here. The joy of creative activity often blinds people to the fact that their work is inaccessible or unappealing to others; the impulse to share The 70-Minute Opus is, at heart, a generous and vital and deeply human act—and without that sharing, artists would never grow.

Remember the internalized negative judgments ("self-promoters are narcissists") mentioned in Point #2, that impede many artist's ability to promote themselves? They're implicit in Bob's last point. But I agree with what he's saying about respect, so I’d reframe his advice this way: Notice when your audience is engaged and enlivened vs. when they’re tuning out. Do what it takes to engage and enliven them. Make a conscious decision to treat the people listening to you with love and respect at all times, including when you send out emails, perform and seek gigs.

Bob's article contains two contradictory but true messages: 1) Go boldly forward and promote your work and 2) Few people may truly care about it.

Independent musicians today receive both of these heavily weighted messages, all the time. No wonder we're having trouble!

8). Embrace Paradox

The way I see it, in order to stay engaged and excited about any kind of public creative endeavor, we need to do two things at the same time: affirm the value of the creative work we do and offer it to people who can use it, and keep our work in perspective--a broader perspective today than ever before. Our songs are both very big (worth creating, worth sharing, worth selling, worth celebrating) and infinitesimally small ("your 70-song opus is one of millions in my inbox").

We have to embrace the "meaningful/not meaningful" paradox in order to keep our music alive, any way we can.

Thanks for reading.