On Songwriting: Mechanics – Part Two

Now that you’ve listened to the Beatles early music, let’s take a closer look at it. Pretty much every song from 1963 – 1964 follows the same basic pop song structure. And that structure is still in tact today, used in many contemporary pop songs. (The Beatles didn’t invent it – though they may have perfected it). Here’s the form:

Intro

Verse

Chorus

Verse

Chorus

Bridge (or Middle Eight)

Verse

Chorus

Bridge

Verse

Chorus

Outro (or Coda, or Tag)

It varies, but that’s pretty standard. In today’s pop music the bridge may not be repeated a second time because the nature of lyrics is a bit different. And somewhere in there, there is usually (but not always) an instrumental break, but we don’t need to deal with that right now.

The verse, the chorus and the bridge are the building blocks for your foundation. Let’s understand exactly what those words mean.

According to the online source The Virginia Tech Multimedia Music Dictionary, the definition of verse is: a group of lines which constitutes a unit. Often there are several verses in a single text, and usually the rhyme scheme, rhythm, and number of poetic lines and feet are the same from verse to verse in a single text.

Lyrically, the verses are what move the story of the song along (even if it’s not a story song), they propel the idea forward.

The chorus, or refrain, is like a verse in that it is a group of lines with a rhyme scheme. But the chorus is repeated at intervals throughout the song and does not vary lyrically. It’s usually the main idea of the song, the message that gets repeated throughout. It’s where, as a songwriter, you want your “hook” to be, lyrically and musically. The chorus may or may not use the same rhyme scheme as the verses. I often try to vary the rhyme scheme to set it apart and help it stand out.

Not all songs use a bridge, but it’s a useful tool. The Virginia Tech Multimedia Music Dictionary defines it as a “Transitional passage connecting two sections of a composition.” The bridge is unlike the rest of the song musically. It may or may not adhere to a previously established rhyme scheme or pattern, or have one at all. It does more than just “connect.” The bridge gives you a chance to restate the main theme in a new way. You can change perspective or add a twist to the story. It can add a sense of heightened excitement, a sort of a tension before the climax and release. Bridges often appear before the last chorus, or sometimes before the musical break. I don’t always (or often) use a bridge, but when I do, I try to make it the “ah ha!” moment in the song – the moment where the listener realizes the deeper meaning. It adds another level or layer to the structure, or maybe it reinforces the foundation.

We’ll get into examples of bridges and verse and choruses in the next section. You can follow this link for a good article on bridges.

The intro is a musical statement that brings the listener into the song, or introduces the song. It can be as simple as one chord, or it can state part of the melody, usually the second half of the chorus (if your chorus is the standard 8 bars, then the last four bars). It can foreshadow musically what’s to come.

The outro, or coda, is the end of the song. The end of a song can be handled any number of ways. It can fade while repeating a line or two, with or without lyrics; It can fade on one chord; It can swell on one chord; It can restate part of the melody; It can be a simple “amen” progression (IV – I); It can be a “cha cha cha” pattern…It all depends on the type of song and how you want to affect the listener, how you want to lead them out of what you just taken them through.

This is my outro for this section. Examples coming up. This is my outro for this section. Examples coming up. This is my outro for this section. Examples coming up. This is my outro for this section. Examples coming up. This is my outro for this section. Examp

On Songwriting: Mechanics - Part One

OK. Let’s talk about The Basics.

I know what you’re thinking: I don’t need to go over The Basics, I already know all that stuff. You’re probably thinking that even if you have never written a song before. Everyone thinks they’ve got The Basics covered.

But, whether you’re a novice or an experienced songwriter, it never hurts to review The Basics – or what I’ll call variously the rules or the mechanics – or look at them from a different perspective. Because, it’s how you use those basics, those mechanics, that will set you apart from other songwriters. It’s how you follow – and break – the rules that show you off as either skilled or inept. Just as there is a fine line between genius and insanity, how you use The Basics in your songwriting is the line between understandable and indecipherable, nonsensical and innovative, inviting and inaccessible, “hooking” the listener or leaving them floundering.

I’ll illustrate this metaphorically and anecdotally. My metaphor is Picasso. If you only have a cursory understanding and appreciation of art, and view one of his Cubist offerings, let’s say Female Standing Nude (charcoal on paper, 1910), you may recognize it as “good,” but you may also be inclined to dismiss it as “doodling” or “something your four year old can do.” It may look easy, but try to recreate it and you would probably fail miserably. That’s because Picasso didn’t start there. He learned the rules, the mechanics, of art first. Or, take any one of his Surrealist works – seemingly unrelated objects thrown together, body parts not where they’re supposed to be, eyes misshapen and unaligned…but still, it’s intriguing, beautiful, masterful. That’s because Picasso knew The Basics, the rules, the mechanics. He spent a lifetime studying them. And he knew how to reinvent them and break them and bend and alter them. He understood Realism and could produce it. He understood shape and form, light and shadow, line and color. And with that foundation, he could expand and invent and innovate.

When I was just starting to write songs (at age 13), I had no rules. I had, of course, listened to music, and taken some piano and theory lessons, but I didn’t really know anything about writing songs. I started making up words and putting them to music. Or making up music and slapping some words down to it. And because I had no rules to bind me, to limit me, some of the stuff I came up with as a teen was pretty interesting and new and sometimes even good. But mostly it was not. Mostly, it was amateurish and adolescent. There is, of course, a learning curve, but I didn’t really begin to blossom until I was in my 30s. (I’m a late bloomer in many facets of my life). I had a gift. But I didn’t nurture it. I just wrote songs. Whatever came into my head.

When I was in my 30s I began teaching music to middle school kids in a private school. So I started brushing up on my theory, and learning things like song structure. I started putting names to the tools I was using – verse, chorus, bridge, ABAB, AABB and ABBA patterns, internal rhyme, imperfect rhyme. I learned about symphony structure – theme and variation, secondary theme, restating the theme, breaking up the theme and tossing it amongst the sections of the orchestra rhythmically and melodically, recapitulation. I started reading interviews with, and articles about, songwriters and their techniques. All of these things helped make me a better songwriter. I strengthened my foundation and broadened my musical horizons.

A note here about broadening your horizons. Do it. Become genuinely interested in as many things as possible and read as much as possible. (I don’t spend nearly as much time reading as I would like. I could blame it on, oh, any number of things, but really it’s just discipline.) Read good fiction and poetry and biographies, see theater, do theater, see good movies, learn history, stay abreast of current events, read books of trivia, go to museums, do stuff you’ve never done before. All of this will benefit your songwriting. Really. But, more about this in another essay.

In Part 2 of this essay we’re going to check under the hood and take apart the engine so we can see how things work and understand what makes the car run. (It’s a good thing I’m using an analogy here, because you really wouldn’t want me doing that to your car.) In the meantime, here’s your homework: listen to a few early Beatles songs, like Love Me Do or I Want To Hold Your Hand or anything else from that era. I’ll get back to you.

On Songwriting: Wasted Words - Part Two

In Part One of this essay I talked about word choice and broke down one verse of one of my songs line by line, word by word. It may seem like I’m nit-picky and obsessive about my lyrics. Well, yes, that’s the point. It matters. You’ve got to care. You’ve got to care about each word. As I’ve said before, in the limited space you have within the structure of a song to express your ideas, each word is important. You cannot afford to waste even one. And, yes, I’ve sat for long periods of time debating (with myself, usually) whether to use the word “and” or “but” or “a” or “the” in a specific places in songs. Every noun, verb, adjective, adverb, article and conjunction carries weight. Become obsessive; become a better writer.

Too often I hear bad or mediocre songs that could be good or great songs. (Okay, a personal note here. I have a lot of friends who are songwriters. And as artists we all share a common trait: insecurity. So, if you’re reading this and you start thinking, “he’s talking about me, he’s talking about me!” Stop it. I am not talking about you personally. I am just making observations and sharing things that I’ve learned along the way. On the other hand, if you do see yourself somewhere in here, if you recognize something about yourself as a songwriter, don’t take my words personally, but take them to heart.)

Unfortunately, with the proliferation home recording and professional-quality recording software and equipment, anyone with enough money (or friend with a studio) can make a “studio-quality” CD and release it. Some are really good, some are not. (I know we’re speaking about subjective tastes here, but…) Every song has its place. Sometimes very talented educators and musicians write songs for or with children to teach a specific concept or topic. Those songs are good in their place. Other educators should know them and use them. But, should they be on a CD with a bunch of “filler” songs because the artist didn’t have enough material? Or on an album as filler with some other really good songs for an older audience? My opinion is no. Not everything has to be released. There are other forums in which to share these songs. Work as hard as you can to make every song you release important and as good as it can be. It’s what you’ll be remembered for (or not); the songs will be here after you’re gone. Respect your audience and treat them as if they are the most important thing in the world. Because they are – it’s not about your own desire to slap something down on tape to sell.

Okay, let’s get back to the technical aspects, the behind-the-scenes, the innards, of songwriting. Here’s another question I use as a guidepost:

Now that I know what I want to say, how should I say it? What form, what structure will be my most effective tool to get my message across? What perspective shall I take?

Just as when you’re writing prose, you’ve got choices. You can use different vehicles in which to convey your ideas. Are you retelling a story from history or from the Bible? What is the point of that story that you want to get across? Are you telling a fictional story? Are you making a list (as in my songs “Metaphor” and “Reason to Believe”)? Are you explaining a situation or idea? What voice will you use? First person, third person? What rhetorical devices will you use? Analogy, Simile, Metaphor, Parallelism, Personification, Polysyndeton (the use of many conjunctions in quick succession), Alliteration, etc.?

I always look for a new way to say something. I try to create unusual word combinations (but not obscure). I’m always searching for a unique angle. Even in a simple story song. In my song “Hallelujah Land,” it’s just the combination of those words – Hallelujah Land – that are unique and unusual. They describe a place in a way in which it had never been described, and yet we know what, or where, that place is (in the context of the song). This song is a pretty straight narrative. It starts out with me, the storyteller, talking to you, the listener, in the first person:

I’ve read a lot of books and sung a lot of songs
And seen me a miracle or two
But I’ve never seen a miracle…etc.

Then I switch into third person as I tell about the miracle. The last verse brings us back to me as the storyteller to conclude and to reiterate the point.

Musically, I used a very simple(and very common) progression for the chorus so it is immediately singable. Likewise, there is not much unusual about the verses. I wanted to write a song in the style of a 1950’s or ‘60’s folk song ala Pete Seeger. It pretty much uses the I, VI, V and VI chords. But toward the end of the verse I use the III chord after the VI chord to give it a little lift. The listener doesn’t expect it, but it’s natural and not intrusive.

In my song “Joshua’s Band” I drew my inspiration from a few different places. Musically, I wanted the song to sound like a gospel song. My main message (in my mind – refer back to Part One) in the song is stated in the tag of each verse, “If you’re waiting for a miracle to set you free/You gotta take the first step…” I had just heard, for the first time, the midrash (story) of the Red Sea splitting because one man had faith and stepped into the water before it had opened up while it still looked hopeless. There are three verses. Each verse has that tag followed by the chorus. The chorus has my other main point: You gotta give the stories a voice and pass them along.

The verses are where I had fun. I wanted to take a trip through biblical history and link it to modern history. I gave myself the challenge (we’ll talk more about structure and viewing limitations as opportunities in another essay) of depicting a different, entire story in only one line of each verse. And I wanted to find a unique perspective for each story. So I tell each story from a first person perspective and find an unusual way to state the idea:

First verse:
I was in the Garden when Eve set the table (a layered meaning or double entendre)
I was covering the story of Cain and Able (“covering the story” lends a playful tone to an otherwise pretty grim story, and the modern listener can relate to the image)
I was on the Ark and I followed the flight of the dove
I was on the mountain when the ram was slaughtered
I was dancing in the river with Pharaoh’s daughter (dancing in water is a strong image)
Had my toes in the water when the water was parted from above (foreshadowing the tag)

Second verse:
I was at the Temple for the rededication (a Chanukah reference)
I stood behind the Gallows at Esther’s celebration
I was the rock that sailed from David’s hand
I tried to get a job translating at the Tower
I marched around Jericho and I felt the power
I played the drums in Joshua’s band (This was the only time I allowed my self two lines about the same story)

Third verse:
(Here is where I break from the mold a bit and bring it into modern history. The last three lines of the verse are where I tie it all together. It’s “the reveal” when we find out who “I” am.)
I was standing next to Caesar picking peaches off the trees (a reference to Caesar Chaves)
I was standing next to Abraham when Martin had a dream (Martin Luther King)
I was on the ring of keys that unlocked Nelson’s door (Nelson Mandela)
I’ve been around for the whole human story
I am Freedom, I am Justice and I’ve felt the glory
I’ve tasted the tears and the fears and I know what for

When I write lyrics, especially for songs that depict past events, I like to make the listener feel as if he or she is there, in that place, a witness to the event. It’s fine to take a little creative license to describe the surroundings and events, especially if the source material has some holes in it. It’s up to you to fill in the blanks. Use specific, vivid images. But be true to your subject.

In my song “Let It Burn” the opening line of the second verse is the one that came to me first. It was Chanukah time and I was driving to Buffalo, NY for a gig. I tend to think in images, or pictures, like a movie playing in my head. I was thinking about the Chanukah story and trying to imagine the real struggle and terror and anger at watching the desecration of the holy Temple. And these lines were born:

The scent of oil hung heavy as it lingered in the air
Clouds of black smoke billowed from the holy house of prayer.

The word “oil” is a very deliberate choice here. Oil was used to rededicate, to purify, the Temple when it was reclaimed. At this point in the song it’s being used as a weapon of destruction. So a parallel is created along with some illustrative tension (see Part One).

In my song “Standing at the Bottom of Ararat,” which retells the Noah story from Genesis, the first line of the third verse states:

It rained and rained and the world was water

There are any number of other ways I could have said it. But “the world was water” is a strong image. It also employs a few of those rhetorical devices. It uses alliteration on the accented beats:

It rained and rained and the world was water

and there’s a little bit of polysyndeton:

It rained and rained and the world was water

Please, avoid clichés. I did not avoid a cliché in the same song when I used:

The rain came tumbling out of the sky
but Noah and the animals were high and dry

If you’re going to write about a historical figure, there are so many better ways (as of yet unwritten, just waiting for you to write them) to open the song than, “(fill in the name of the person) was a man who…” or “When I was young…” or “This is the story of…” or any of those other phrases that make me wince and set me up to know that I’m about to hear a “bad song.” Know the person or subject about whom or which you are writing. Know him personally, intimately. Get right to the essence of that person or subject or situation or idea. You don’t have to spend too much time setting us up. I’ve always advised my children, whenever they were writing papers for school, to not start by saying, “In this paper I’m going to write about…” Just write about it. Don’t waste words.

Remember: give your audience credit. They are smarter than you think. Don’t be afraid to challenge them. And respect them.

On Songwriting: Wasted Words - Part One

Just because you can pour sugar into your car’s gas line, doesn’t mean you should.

And just because you can put lipstick on the dog, doesn’t mean you should.

Just because you can put two words together that rhyme, doesn’t mean you should. Likewise, just because you are able to put a new melody to existing words or text, doesn’t mean you should do that either. (Which is why I don’t. But we’ll get into that in another essay. For now, we’ll mostly stick to lyrics).

As a songwriter, I have a set of guidelines, or guideposts, in the form of questions, that I use when writing. We’ll start with this one:

What do I want to say? I mean exactly, specifically. What is the message I want to convey to the listener? (And there is always a message.) What do I want the listener to come away with?

That being said, a little ambiguity is okay (when it’s done skillfully). That is, it’s okay if the listener doesn’t come away with your specific image in his or her head. If fact, the listener most likely won’t. Like any art, music and lyrics are for the receiver to interpret. But, the important thing is for you, the writer, to know exactly what you want to express. Don’t be vague. It’s like subtext for an actor. An actor may invent lots of background information about his or her character that the audience will never know. But it’s what makes the character whole and subtle and nuanced and layered and fully believable for the audience. So it should be with your song.

In fact, lyrically, I often try to stay away from being too specific. And here is a dichotomy (maybe you thought I was going to say “contradiction” or “hypocrisy”): specificity and ambiguity. Remember: lyrics are poetry. This means you have to make careful choices. You only have so many lines, so many beats, in which to get your message across. You don’t have room for wasted words. The ideas expressed in the song need to be fully developed, fully understood – very specific – for you. The lyrics of the song need to be, evocative, image laden, able to draw the listener in. In other words: listenable. The listener should be able to identify with the lyrics on some level. He should feel like you are speaking to him personally, as if you’re sharing secrets or telling a story and you’re right in the room with him and he’s thinking, “Yeah, yeah! Something like that happened to me once,” or “I know someone like that,” or “Wow, I never thought of it that way, but that’s a really cool way to say it!”

For instance, in my song “She Knows God,” I could have written, “I know a remarkable woman who’s very spiritual and deep and she told me this really cool story about how she came to find her faith at a very young age and she has some physical impairments and…” Anybody could have written that. It might even make a good story, but it’s not a song. I could have even rhymed it:

I know a woman
She’s remarkable and deep
When she was very young
Her faith it took a leap
or
She found God to keep

or…any other number of rhymes. But they are empty rhymes, not interesting, wasted words. Also, those words don’t really have the imagery, or even mystery, that will draw a listener in. I did write:

She Knows God
She knows God like the sun on her tears
She knows God
She knows God will not always be near
But she always breathes the air that surrounds her
And it fills he with more than just breath
It’s the fragile space that bridges the distance
Between living life and not fearing death
She knows God

The first line, “She knows God,” draws the listener in for several reasons. First, it’s incomplete. (This also has to do with the melody and the choice to sing it a capella). The listener wants to know what’s coming next. It also makes a statement, a strong yet intimate statement. I could have said it any of those ways in the above examples, or any number of other ways, but this is intriguing. There is very little question about its implication. But who is she? How does she know God?

The next line offers a bit more, but in a poetic image:

She knows God like the sun on her tears

There are several things at work here. I’ve got some linguistic and illustrative tension going on. You can’t get much more intimate with someone than to share their tears. And you can’t get much bigger in the scope of our known physical and spiritual universe than the sun. Also, tears usually connote sadness, sunshine happiness. So now the listener has a lovely image in her mind and is brought just a little closer to the subject and is even more intrigued.

Then, “She knows God will not always be near.” This where we get personal, we can begin to relate to this person. I think everyone who has any kind of relationship with any kind of God has experienced moments of extreme closeness and moments of “where are you when I need you?” God is always here, but not always near (and maybe it’s not God who’s built the distance, but us).

Going on, I could have said, “but she goes on with life anyway.” Instead, I used an image with which we can all relate and then elevated it to an almost mystical place:

But she always breathes the air that surrounds her
And it fills her with more than just breath

Now the listener wants to know, “What do you mean? With what does if fill her?” And the answer:

It’s the fragile space that bridges the distance
Between living life and not fearing death

And again, I’ve taken an element that is immeasurably large and seemingly endless, air, and broken it down to its most intimate aspect, breathing it into the body, and aided the listener in remembering that even the most mundane and automatic acts, the ones we probably take for granted, are holy.

And that's the climax of the verse, a sort of tension and release (both lyrically and musically) that pulls the listener in, satisfies him and leaves him wanting more. And, yes, you do understand the metaphor I’m using here because that’s what good music should be like.

And in all of that (and throughout the rest of the lyrics) are the simple messages that I get out of the song: God is always with us, even in our lowest moments, and every act that we do on this earth is, or has the potential to be, holy. People always want to know who the woman is, her true identity. But it doesn’t matter.

Blogging About Songwriting

I plan to use this space to write about songwriting. I’ve got essays in mind. Now all they have to do is find their way into my fingers and onto the keyboard – the computer keyboard. I have a lot of opinions about songwriting.

I started writing songs when I was thirteen years old. They weren’t good songs, but you gotta start somewhere. I don’t think I really started writing good songs until about 1996 or ’97, some 23 years after that first song. Not every songwriter – in fact, most songwriters – don’t take that long to mature. But I’ve always been a late bloomer.

I’ll write more about beginning and developing at another time. Right now, for lack of time, I want to share a little email exchange I had recently with my friend (and webmaster) Leon. Leon, a creative person in his own right, initiated this conversation and I was glad to bite. I want to illustrate – now, later, ever and always – that songwriting is a serious, detail oriented, to be studied, exhilarating, and sometimes tedious craft; that it’s not just throwing words together that rhyme; that it takes work, thought, and skill; that even if you’re born with “the gift,” you’ve got to take that raw talent and nurture it, work it, mold it, shape it.

I think this email exchange between Leon and my self may give you a small glimpse into part of my songwriting philosophy and discipline. It focuses on my song “Haruach.” (The Hebrew word “ruach” means both “spirit” and “wind.” The prefix “ha” in Hebrew is “the.”) Leon questions me about word choice and it’s a valid, observant and sensitive question. Exactly the kind of stuff I love to think about.

First, here are the lyrics to “Haruach.” Following are the emails, unedited:

Haruach
Words and music by Noah Budin

We are moving with haruach
Like a whisper through the trees
We are bowing at the waist
We are bending at the knees
We will close our eyes in reverence
As our prayers are lifted high
We are moving with haruach
We will fly

We are soaring with haruach
Sheltered by the eagle'ss wings
We are a spark at Sinai
We are feasting with the Kings
We will walk into the sea
A leap of faith, we take a chance
We are soaring with haruach
We will dance

We are dancing with haruach
By the water through the night
Like Miriam with her timbrels
Like the joy of morning light
Like David at the Ark
Like the Ecclesiastic words
We are dancing with haruach
We will be heard

BRIDGE:To everything there is a season
A time to mourn, a time to pray
And I don’t even know the reason
But it moves through me every day

We are singing with haruach
Lift our voices to the clouds
We will sing a joyful song
Sing it strong and sing it loud
From the Garden to the Mountain
Ancient melodies we share
We are singing with haruach
We are there…


Subject: Dumb question on Haruach
Date: Mon, 20 Mar 2006 23:36:55 -0500

This has been bugging me since you played it (twice) and I've been sitting on it, but I thought "now or never". If I recall correctly:
We are moving with haruach, like a …(rest of verse)
We are moving with haruach, we will FLY
We are SOARING with haruach, (rest of verse)
We are SOARING with haruach, we will DANCE
We are DANCING with haruach (rest of verse)
We are DANCING with haruach, we will be HEARD
We are SINGING with haruach (rest of verse)
We are singing with haruach, we are there

My point is that, being fairly compulsive about these things, I like the last word of the previous verse to match the main word of the next verse.

If we fly at the end of verse one, we should fly in verse two. We dance at the end of verse two, and dance in verse three. And although we will be heard at the end of verse three, the tie-in to four is good. And it would stand out more (to me) if all the other verse matched up.

I dunno. It just bugged me that verse two wasn't flying with haruach.

I'll shut up now.
Leon

Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2006 09:54:39 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Re: Dumb question on Haruach

I love dumb questions about Haruach. It's actually not a stupid question. It is exactly the kind of thing I think about when writing lyrics. And I love to talk about writing lyrics, so don't get me started. Oops, too late.

I think what I actually did was NOT find another way to say "dance." Dance is the only word that does repeat in the following verse. The other verses have words that reference the verse before it - and there is a definite connection from one verse to the next. The last verse comes out of the bridge, so the connection is even a little further away.

What it came down to was 1) I liked the word -- the image, connotation, the shape and sound, etc -- "soar" better than "fly" to carry that verse. "Soaring" on the wings of eagles, or sheltered by them, as the case may be, is different than "flying" on them or with them. In an aesthetically linguistic sense, the word "fly" is not as pretty as "soar" when spoken or sung. "Flying" can get very nasal, especially for us Clevelanders, and just doesn't produce the same image as "soaring." And 2) There was no better word for "dance" than "dance." Boogie? Wiggle? We are shaking our booties with Haruach? I don't even want to think of the connotations that has. Say the word "dance." Go ahead, I'll wait. It's exuberant and sparkly and energetic...well, you get the idea.

It also has to do with the rhyme scheme, among a number of other elements. The word "fly" works at the end of the first verse 1) because it rhymes with "high," 2) because it IS only said once, and 3) because of where it takes us:

We will close our eyes in reverence
As our prayers are lifted high
We are moving with haruach
We will fly

First we're "moving," then we're praying, then our prayers are lifted, then we merely "fly'" then we "soar." It's a progression.

And you're right. It is a little jarring to me lyrically, but I willingly sacrificed that (this time) for meaning and nuance, and it wasn't all that jarring. Not so much that I couldn't get past it. Which, over the years, I've done. I'm willing to bet that the average (passive) listener will never notice. Even an active listener, who is not as OC about these things as you and I, may never really notice. Or care.

BUT, I do care. And that's good. It's good for my songs. And whether they care or not, it's good for my listeners. And it's good that you care. Because, like I said, I love talking about lyric writing in this trivial, minutia oriented, detailed kind of way. And It's a hell of a lot more fun than working.

Noah

As We Gather In Your Presence

I wrote this song with two services in mind. Well, three, actually. But the third one was a ceremony. It all started when…

Rabbi Daniel Roberts hired me to teach and lead music for the confirmation service at Temple Emanu El in Cleveland, Ohio. The service included a song to be sung at the time the students were to give an offering of a “floral gift.” I didn’t know the song that had previously been used, and I didn’t have an appropriate one in my repertoire. So I wrote one. Actually, I sketched out the chorus and the first verse.

Around the same time, another service was coming up at Anshe Chesed Fairmount Temple, also in Cleveland. It was an end of the school year Shabbat Hamoreh, a service at which all of the teachers were recognized and appreciated. We were also saying goodbye to two of our beloved administrators who were moving on to other positions and, in one case, another city. The second verse came with this service looming.

Finally, 8th grade graduation was nearing at The Agnon School where I taught music. I played the nearly finished song for one of my eighth grade students who helped me with some marvelous suggestions for the Hebrew chorus. (I’ve taken Hebrew Level 1 five times now. He was much better at it than I was.)

The song was completed and sung at all three occasions. It’s proven to be a pretty sturdy opening song for almost any service or ceremony, and I certainly open with it often in concert.

Hallelujah Land

This was the song that started it all! It has rather inauspicious and humble beginnings. I wrote it in about three hours one late night, and what you hear on the CD is pretty much the way it came out that night.

One evening, after the kids (and my wife) went to bed, I sat up playing through my Rise Up Singing songbook. I was struck at how many Moses songs there were, and at how many of them were not exclusively Jewish. In fact, most of them were not “Jewish” at all, but gospel songs that originated in the days of slavery, such as Let My People Go. And some were modern day folk songs, such as Man Come In To Egypt, by Fred Hellerman (The Weavers) and recorded by Peter, Paul, and Mary.

I was also struck by the melodic beauty of these songs, eloquent in their simplicity. And, of course, the message of tzedek (justice) articulated by the stories of, and the longings for, freedom.

Sometimes a songwriter just needs to be open to the forces around him or her and not try very hard. Sometimes the very act of “trying” or “working” impedes the creative process. Sometimes a song is “received” rather that “written.” I don’t know where the words “Hallelujah Land” came from. I just found myself singing them that night to this ridiculously simple I, IV, V chord progression and four-note melody. The verses just kind of spilled out as I went along. I added the III chord (Em in the key of C) to the latter part of the verse (that’s the songwriter part), which gives it a little “lift.”

Jerusalem In My Heart

Here’s another example of writing out of need. The middle schoolers where I taught were having what would amount to be a Shabbaton, an overnight at the school, but it started at Havdalah (Saturday night) and went through Sunday. The theme was “Jerusalem.”

I was asked to come for the evening and lead Havdalah, and did I have a nice opening song? I would find one, I said. Saturday night, an hour before I was to lead the service, I still hadn’t found a song. So I wrote one.

I was doing dinner dishes at home (see, not trying again) and the words “Jerusalem In My Heart” came to me. I dried my hands, sat down, and wrote out three simple verses. I wrote it as an echo song. Nobody would have heard it before I played it that night (including myself) and I wanted them to participate actively. They did. The song worked and it stuck around.

Standing At The Bottom of Ararat

I’ve always loved the Noah story. And I always thought it had much more to offer than what we usually read on the surface.

As a songwriter, I’m always looking for that interesting and vivid image, or unusual turn of phrase. “Standing at the bottom of Ararat” provided that and became the “hook.”

The first three verses are a basic retelling of the story. The fourth ties in my message: “That rainbow sign is for me and you. We’re all on that ark.”

Sukkat Shalom

This is one of the rare instances in which I incorporated liturgy or text into a song. This text spoke to me. “A shelter of peace spreading out over all of us. A shelter of compassion, of life, of peace.” (Roughly translated.) Again, the image is vivid and multi-layered.

Though this text is not usually associated with the holiday of Sukkot, I chose to link them in this song. The holiday of Sukkot, like this text, is also multi-layered. It’s about much more than celebrating the harvest; it’s about leaving the corners of the fields and the gleanings that drop so that the less fortunate may eat. It’s about basic human survival. It’s about compassion and Tikun Olam (repairing the world).

This song is all about the poetry and the imagery of the lyric. The musical structure is fairly simple (it’s really almost exactly the same as Hallelujah Land if you think about it). The chorus departs somewhat with a riff borrowed from Elton John’s Your Song. I make no apologies. Whether Elton knows it or not, he is now a part of, what Pete Seeger calls, the Folk Process.

One Life

This song is about second chances. If you’re lucky enough to get one, run with it.

Musically, I was paying homage to the first really successful group I was in in Chicago, Illinois. It was an a capella music and comedy group called Four Guys Standing Around Singing.

That’s all me you hear on the recording. We did it in eight hours on one day.

Early In The Morning (Late At Night)

I wrote this one in the car while driving home to Cleveland, Ohio from a Children’s Music Network conference in New York State. As these kinds of conferences tend to do, I was energized musically and spiritually. Though I don’t recommend this, I literally jotted down they words as the came to me while zipping along on the turnpike. When I got home (early in the evening) I took out my guitar and (without ever having played any music to it yet) proceeded to play it in its entirety for my son, who was about seven at the time, and my wife. Zac said he liked it. I knew it was a keeper.

With These Hands

Generally, I am an impatient songwriter. Song ideas usually don’t sit very long with me. I don’t mind the process of writing, but I really enjoy having written.

That being said, this song took me over a year to complete. I had this idea about hands. I liked the image. Think of all the things hands can do. They can demonstrate great strength, build great buildings and structures. The same hands can display gentle tenderness. They can caress an infant, comfort a loved one. They create beautiful and intricate works of art. They work the earth and provide sustenance.

So, I had this idea about hands. Then I thought of the title, “With These Hands.” Then I though it sounded so obvious and familiar that someone must have written it already. So I did some research. I started asking people if they’d ever heard the song “With These Hands.” When nobody had, I began to write it.

For whatever reason, the process was difficult. This one did not flow. I sat with it many a night waiting for the direction to reveal itself to me. My friend, and fellow musician, Chuck Fink, came over one night to play music with me and I presented this song idea to him. I played what I had – which was not much – a three or four chord progression and a bit of melody. Chuck helped me structure the verse musically and lyrically. It was at that point that I decided to include the eyes and heart in each verse.

Now I had a structure. I sketched out the first two verses. But I still had no direction. I sat with it. I walked with it. I drove with it. I was not ready to receive it. But I stuck with it.

About a year after I had started the process (and had completed other songs) I took a trip to Wisconsin for another Children’s Music Network gathering. It was getting close to my tenth wedding anniversary, I was away from home, getting a little homesick, and missing my children. One night sitting alone with my guitar in Wisconsin, the direction revealed itself to me and I wrote down the last two verses.

I was so unsure of it during the writing process that I remained unsure of it after it had been completed. I was uncomfortable performing it for a long time. Now, of course, it is one of the mainstays of my repertoire.

Joshua’s Band

I think of this song as having three distinct sections. There’s the chorus, the verse, and each verse has a little tag (or maybe each chorus has a little intro). I’ll start with the tag.

One time at a conference, I heard a wonderful d’var Torah (commentary) on the parting of the Red Sea. The rabbi related a midrash (story). It seems that when Pharaoh freed the Hebrew slaves, then changed his mind and sent the army after them, the slaves made it all the way to the Red Sea and then began complaining. “Moses, why did you bring us here to die? We’d rather be slaves.” Faith was hard to come by since they’d had so little for so long.

Now, most of know the story as Moses putting his staff into the water and water parting to let the former slaves pass through. Sort of like a magic trick. Or a freak act of nature. Or maybe it was the hand of God. But why would God save a group of complaining, faithless people?

Sometimes the onus is on our shoulders to take the first step, to take some personal responsibility, to have blind faith.

The part of the story that made an impression on me that day was the story of Nachshon, who boldly stepped into the water. And he walked. He walked into the sea, and it wasn’t until he was in up to his neck that the waters parted. All it took was for one person to have faith…”If you’re waiting for a miracle to set you free/You gotta take the first step…”

I am reminded of that story about the man, we’ll call him Joseph, who was among a group of people whose homes were caught in a flash flood. Joseph has faith in God and steps outside to wait. Some people are driving past in their car and they beckon for Joseph to ride with them to safety. Joseph declines. “I have faith. God will save me,” he says. The water rises up to Joseph’s waist. Some people come rowing past in a boat. “Joseph, get in. We have room for one more!” Joseph replies, “I have faith. God will save me.” The water rises. Joseph seeks higher ground and climbs up to his roof. A helicopter hovers and the people drop a rope for Joseph. Joseph waves them off. “I have faith. God will save me.” The waters rise. Joseph is swept away and, sadly, is drowned. Joseph is a little perplexed and a slightly indignant at his meeting with God. “God,” Joseph sputters incredulously, “why didn’t you save me?” God replies, “Joseph, I sent you a car, a boat, and a helicopter. What more do you want?!”

“If you’re waiting for a miracle to set you free/You gotta take the first step…” It is up to us to take on the responsibility of faith, and of recognizing those moments – and not just the obvious ones – when God is there.

The chorus of this song is a basic “Gospel-style” chorus which sings about “spiritual nutrition,” some of the intangible things that keep us going, in a sort of call and response format. It ends with the line “You gotta give the stories a voice and pass them along.” That is a rich and central part of our religion, our faith and our culture.

As a songwriter, I’m always looking for new and interesting ways to say things. In the verses, I tried to find unique ways to present some of the stories from our biblical history. I also tried to put myself, or rather the narrator of the song, in some way right into the middle of each story. And each story only gets one line in the song. I also like the structure of the verse: AAB, CCB. It’s a little different from the norm and helps to highlight some of the ideas. The last verse links our history to our present and ties the whole thing together.

Some miscellany:

• I wrote most of this song in a hotel room in Columbus, Ohio.
• I always wanted to reference Caesar Chavez in a song. This was the one.
• When I came home and played it for the first time for a friend, the only comment I got was, “It’s kind of long.”
• I’ve played this song to great response in both synagogues and churches.
• Troy Dexter, my arranger, producer and musician on this album, is a genius. He asked me how I wanted to record this song and I said, “Think Mavis Staples and the Staple Singers. I want it to sound like a gospel song.” Troy delivered. By the way, that’s Troy playing the bass, the piano, the organ and the tambourine on the recording. And his wife is one of the backup singers.

Now go out there and pass the stories along.

Wisdom of the Heart

I wrote this one for the same middle school graduation I referenced earlier. There wasn’t, as they say, a dry eye in the house.

Thanks to Julie Silver for spending a day in the studio with me do the backing vocals. She’s a mensch.