Hope Roth

Mary asked me last week about my song-writing process.

Hope, I’d like to hear something about your songwriting process. What comes to you first — music or lyrics? Sometimes both? Sometimes one but other times the other? If it’s lyrics, do actual lines come to you or does the story of a song suggest itself and you then search for the lines?

The short answer is that I don’t have much of a set process.Which is a shame, really, because it would probably help me to write more songs. Or, at the very least, better songs.

Songwriting is something that I actually find quite mystifying. Sometimes, I can sit down, attempt to pour my heart out and then end up with absolutely nothing that I could play for other people without dying of embarrassment. Sometimes, I sit down because I don’t know what else to do, I fiddle around and I end up with something really special. And there’s no rhyme or reason as to what makes that difference.

The main thing I’ve found is that I need to be in the right head space. I can’t be feeling any one emotion too strongly or all I end up with is dreck. By that same token, I have to be feeling something or all I’d write would be Eagles songs.

(zing!)

Back when I was in the dating game, I had to wait a few weeks after a breakup and then I’d end up with something that I really liked. These days, I wait for a quiet moment when I can clear my head and then tap into some old emotions. I’ve never managed to write a song about something that is currently bothering me, but it always helps me to feel better when I work through old emotions in a song.

Sometimes, the idea for a song will strike me at an odd moment. I’ll write down a few lyrics and then go back to them later. I used to carry around a composition book for just that reason. These days, I type up a note on my iPhone. The first half of the lyrics to Beer and Pie were written in the car on the way home from my sister’s wedding. My battery died just as I finished typing up the last line. I’m glad that it didn’t die any sooner! In a pinch, I’ll write on the back of an envelope, but those have a tendency to get lost.

Once I have a few lyrics, I’ll sit down with my guitar and I’ll play different chords until I get something that sounds about right. Then, I’ll sing the same few lines over and over until I get a melody that I like. I always know I’ve succeeded when it gets stuck in my head.

If I don’t have any lyrics, I  play some random chords in the hopes that something will come to me. I often have an idea of what I want to write about, but it usually changes as I continue playing. I’ll start with a line that I like ok, then I’ll come up with a better second line and then I’ll change the first line to fit better with the second line. Then I’ll throw out all of the lines and write a song about my cat instead. :p These are often the sessions where I get up afterward and tell myself what a colossal waste of time that was. Unless I managed to write a cat song, of course.

I can spend an hour working on something and never get anything useful. If inspiration strikes, I can write a song in ten minutes. If I could figure out how to force inspiration to strike, I’d put out a new album every month.

The songs I like best are the songs that tell a story – even if it’s a story that only I can follow along. I wrote Flickering Street Lamp over ten years ago (now I’m feeling old!) and I still remember that moment in great detail every time I sing it. It was midnight in Harvard Square and we were watching all of the people dressed up to go in and see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I knew I liked the guy I was with, but I wasn’t sure exactly where things were headed. It was a moment of great trepidation but also of great optimism. I’d like to think that I captured that feeling.

I think that the most important element of songwriting that I’ve learned over the years is that I just can’t force it. I’ve sat down to write a sad song or a funny song or an upbeat song and it’s never really worked out. You have to let the songs go where they want to go. I might want to write a silly song about cupcakes, but if I’m not really feeling the cupcakes, it will come out sounding forced. I just have to get in touch with an emotion, remember a moment, keep singing and hope that it works out for the best.

I’ll go back in and revise a song after it’s done. I change words to make the lyrics more interesting. And I’ll try to change things up so the song isn’t just verse chorus verse chorus verse. I don’t usually mess with the melody, but the guitarists in my band have been known to improve on the chords. A lot. (I have some musical talent, but I’m a thoroughly mediocre guitarist). I took a songwriting course with Ellis Paul last year and some of the techniques that we learned have been immensely helpful in going back and editing. I never used to edit my songs. I would just discard the ones that I didn’t like very much.

I think that what I really need to do is to find more quiet time for songwriting. Because, while I might not like 80% of the things that I come up with when I’m noodling around, I can’t use 100% of the songs that I never even attempt to write.

Here’s to more songs in 2011.

My guitarist, Dave, and I got together last night to work on some new material. For someone who is a bit of a control freak like me, it’s not easy to invite someone into your head-space. Don’t get me wrong, I went into this excited and happy to have someone to collaborate with and to bounce some ideas off of. And I would say that it was a rousing success.

It’s just that I sometimes need to take a deep breath and remember that the essence of my songs is mine all mine but that the details are up for interpretation.

I think that my album was successful because I put my songs in the hands of people who I knew were talented and let them work their magic. It’s my plan to do that with all of my new material as well. I think that the major difference is, with Beer and Pie, we were working on songs that I had been singing for up to eight years. These songs were mine. Their very essence was infused with me.

These new songs? They’re babies. Young, weak, impressionable.

This is where you have to tell yourself that you can either sing the songs as written and hold onto them tighter than a nine-fingered hobbit. Or you can let go a little bit and ask the people who you know have mad skills to add their voices to the choir. Sure, it means sharing a little… But I tend to enjoy my desserts a little more when there are two spoons involved. Maybe the songs will be 80% me and 20% my band, but they’ll be, like 1,000% awesome.

And that’s what counts.

The songs themselves, you say? I’m so glad you asked.

We took my two new songs that I think are my strongest (so far) and we changed them up a little bit. Added a couple of bridges. Reworked the chord progressions so that they were a little more interesting. Added in some space. It was nothing earth shattering, but I sometimes feel that songcrafting is all about the subtleties. The difference between a good song and a great song is sometimes just a few notes, a couple of words and some extra syllables.

We can’t all take, “Scrambled eggs, scrambled eggs, my baby’s got a nice pair of legs” and turn it into “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.” But some of my favorite songs on Beer and Pie started off as my least favorite. And all we had to add was something like seven guitar parts.

To put this post into perspective, you have to understand that Ellis Paul and Steve Earle are my two most favoritist songwriters of all time. Followed closely by Dar Williams. So, to get to sit in a room and learn about song-writing from him pretty much blew my mind. It was like getting driving lessons from The Stig. AKA: kindof a big deal.

Anyways, it was a three hour class where we talked about the song-writing process and how you can write songs that really tell a story. Listening to Ellis (can I call him Ellis? I’m going to call him Ellis) talk about his aims in writing songs (capturing a mood, telling a story, creating a moment) it made me realize why I love his music so much. We’re both coming at this whole song-writing business from a very similar place.

He also vocalized all of the things that I have subconsciously been trying to do with my songs. Adding the details in that make it come alive. Showing what you mean instead of saying it directly (I lost track of the number of times he said, “show, don’t tell”). And he added in a new dimension (at least for me) which is to engage the senses. Bring in sight, smell, taste, touch and sound and people will feel like they’re right there with you. It doesn’t have to be completely literal (if it did, there would be a lot more songs about burnt hot dogs), you can actually do it very subtly. But I had never really thought about adding kinesthetic elements to my songs. With that idea in the back of my head, I think that I can write some songs that have a lot of the same elements as some of my favorite songs. I’v added in a lot of those details in the past, I just never did it consciously.

I’m not going to lie, there was a part of me that was hoping I’d get a chance to play one of my songs (we were encouraged to bring guitars for work-shopping) and he’d say “OMG! You’re the next coming of Joni Mitchell!”) and sign me up to open for him on his next tour. I have a strong suspicion that the other 24 people in that room were thinking the same thing. Which makes me feel a little less crazy.

A little.

In case you were wondering, I did not get referred to as the second coming of Joni Mitchell and, as of this writing, I will not be joining Ellis Paul on his next tour. You’re all shocked, I know. I’m sure that this has everything to do with the fact that my guitar stayed snugly in its case. And nothing to do with me not being the second coming of Joni Mitchell. I’m really more of a Lucinda Williams. We only had time to workshop one person’s song. But it was still really valuable. And gave me some good ideas about how to approach my new stuff that I’m trying to bring to that next level.

Everyone who attended the class got a copy of his latest CD. Which doesn’t come out until next January. So, don’t I feel special. Sortof. You can buy a copy on his website, here. Would it have been too dorky to have asked for an autographed copy? I figured it would be too dorky. So now I will just need to be content with knowing that I got my copy in person. I made a joke about “trade ya!” and gave him a copy of Beer and Pie. I hope he listens to it. More importantly, I hope he likes it.

I’m floating around some new ideas in my head. I think I have a few songs in there that are getting ready to come out. And none of them is about burnt hot dogs. I’ve also decided that I need to start doing what I did for years and years and years, which is to carry around a notebook and to jot down little snippets and the beginnings of songs. I stopped carrying a composition book right around the time that I started writing most of my songs on my lappy toppy. I will occasionally make a note on my phone, but it’s not quite the same. Although the song Beer and Pie was tapped out furiously while I was hoping and praying that my iPhone battery didn’t die.

I had a good time today. Just sitting six feet from Ellis while he played a song for us was well worth the price of admission. Throw in a free CD and I got a hell of a deal.

Hopefully, this will be the beginning of some fantastic new songs.