Writing Better Lyrics
Page 13
Then you walk to the window
And you stare at the moon
Riding high and lonesome through the starlit sky
And it comes to you how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what you dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray
Like wind on the plains
Sand through the glass
Waves rolling in with the tide
Dreams die hard
And we watch them erode
But we cannot be denied
The fire inside
What's going on with Seger's use of second person? Second person is usually direct address — I talking to you. But there's no I. Sometimes you can be used as a substitute for first person. That's the way I sometimes talk to myself: “Come on, Pat, can't you be clear for once?” instead of “I wish I could be clear for once.”
Try reading through the whole first verse in first-person narrative:
There's a hard moon risin' on the streets tonight
There's a reckless feeling in my heart as I head out tonight
Through the concrete canyons to the midtown lights
Where the latest neon promises are burning bright
Past the open windows on the darker streets
Where unseen angry voices flash and children cry
Past the phony posers with their worn out lines
The tired new money dressed to the nines
The lowlife dealers with their bad designs
And the dilettantes with their open minds
I'm out on the town
Safe in the crowd
Ready to go for the ride
Searching the eyes
Looking for clues
There's no way I can hide
The fire inside
Clearly, Seger is not using you as a disguise for I.
Continue the first-person substitution until you finish the whole lyric. Of course, the pronouns have to change in verse three (at least with a Seger lead vocal):
Now the hour is late and she thinks I'm asleep
And I listen to her dress and I listen to her leave like I knew she would
I hear her car pull away in the street
Then I move to the door and I lock it
When she's gone for good
Then I walk to the window
And I stare at the moon
Riding high and lonesome through the starlit sky
And it comes to me how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what I dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray
Like wind on the plains
Sand through the glass
Waves rolling in with the tide
Dreams die hard
And we watch them erode
But we cannot be denied
The fire inside
The result is a clear first-person narrative. But something gets lost: a kind of universal feeling that you seems to add.
Let's try the lyric in third person:
There's a hard moon risin' on the streets tonight
There's a reckless feeling in her heart as she heads out tonight
Through the concrete canyons to the midtown lights
Where the latest neon promises are burning bright
Past the open windows on the darker streets
Where unseen angry voices flash and children cry
Past the phony posers with their worn out lines
The tired new money dressed to the nines
The lowlife dealers with their bad designs
And the dilettantes with their open minds
She's out on the town
Safe in the crowd
Ready to go for the ride
Searching the eyes
Looking for clues
There's no way she can hide
The fire inside
Continue reading the whole lyric in third person. Take your time. Now it's a clear third-person narrative, landing squarely in storytelling mode.
Second-person narrative serves up a tricky combination of third-person narrative (where we watch the character) and direct address (talking right to the character). Part of it works like using you as a substitute for one (e.g., “You get what you pay for” is the same as “One gets what one pays for”).
There's a hard moon risin' on the streets tonight
There's a reckless feeling in one's heart as one heads out tonight
Now stir in the illusion of direct address by using you instead of one:
There's a hard moon risin' on the streets tonight
There's a reckless feeling in your heart as you head out tonight
Think back to our point of view scale. The intimacy of second-person narrative comes from its suggestion of direct address. We expect I to appear from behind the curtain at any moment. It just never happens.
Second-person narrative actively forces us to say, “This character could easily be me.” The universal theme set up in the lovely third verse helps, too. One key to the lyric's success is the move to first-person plural at the end:
And it comes to you how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what you dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray
Like wind on the plains
Sand through the glass
Waves rolling in with the tide
Dreams die hard
And we watch them erode
But we cannot be denied
The fire inside
We forces the listener into the emotion.
One test for second-person narrative: Does it translate easily into third person? Try it with another second-person narrative, Steely Dan's “Kid Charlemagne”:
While the music played
You worked by candlelight
Those San Francisco nights
You were the best in town
Just by chance you crossed the diamond with the pearl
You turned it on the world
That's when you turned the world around
EXERCISE 15
Go ahead and translate it into third person:
While the music played
He worked by candlelight …
Finish it.
And now, translate it into first-person narrative:
While the music played
I worked by candlelight …
Finish it.
Each narrative mode makes you look at the lyric differently. Which do you like better for “Kid Charlemagne”? Yup. I like second-person narrative best here too. But a cautionary note: Don't dash out and turn all your third-person narratives into second person. Beware of the hangman: Don't tell facts to someone who should already know them!
You can also leave the narrative mode, using second person as a substitute for I, as in, “C'mon, can't you be clear for once?” Or as an internal command: “C'mon, be clear for once!” Leonard Cohen's “Dress Rehearsal Rag” is a good example. In it, the character is standing in front of a mirror getting ready to shave:
… Look at your body now, there's nothing much to save
And a bitter voice in the mirror cries “Hey, Prince, you need a shave”
Now, if you can manage to get your trembling fingers to behave
Why don't you try unwrapping a stainless steel razor blade …
… Cover up your face with soap, there, now you're Santa Claus
And you've got an “A” for anyone who will give you his applause …
I suppose we could call it an internal monologue or dialogue. One thing is clear: Narrative it ain't.
Practice with points of view. Get in the habit of checking every lyric you write from each point of view. Sometimes a change will make all the difference. Mostly, you'll get your best results with direct address and with standard first- and third-person narratives. But don't let that keep you from checking out second-person narr
ative. When it works, it works big time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DIALOGUE AND POINT OF VIEW
Conversation overheard in a country home, using a surveillance microphone:
Alphonse: What gifts can I bring you to prove that my love for you is true? I want to make you mine forever. There's nothing on this Earth I would not do.
Emma Rae: Anything I have wanted, you have given willingly. So now there's only one more thing I need: If you love me, give me wings. Don't be afraid if I fly. A bird in a cage will forget how to sing; if you love me, give me wings.
Alphonse (walking over to the window, staring into space): I just want to protect you, because this world is a dangerous place.
Emma Rae (putting her arms around him): I know you mean well, but there's lessons I must learn for myself. If you love me, give me wings. Don't be afraid if I fly. A bird in a cage will forget how to sing; if you trust me, give me wings. Up above the clouds you can see forever, and I know you and I could learn to fly together. If you love me, give me wings. Don't be afraid if I fly. A bird in a cage will forget how to sing; if you trust me, give me wings. If you really love me, give me wings.
Gosh, what a nice conversation. It even rhymes. How would you turn this dialogue into a song? Think about it for a minute. Go back, read it again, and try it.
No, it probably isn't a duet. Duets need equal characters, both of whom can say the same chorus. Emma Rae is the only one here who can say “Give me wings.” Unless you're writing opera (sung dialogue), you're better off having one singer tell us about the conversation, complete with quotes. The real trick is selecting a point of view to set the whole thing up.
Here are your options:
1. FIRST-PERSON NARRATIVE
I asked her, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?”
Or:
He asked me, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?”
In first-person narrative, the singer tells us about a conversation he/ she actually had with some third party. Like someone coming in to work and saying, “Guess who I talked to yesterday. You'll never believe who he was with!” And then telling you the story.
2. DIRECT ADDRESS
I asked you, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?”
In direct address, the singer is talking either directly to us, or to some unseen you. We're watching him/her have a conversation with a second person.
3. THIRD-PERSON NARRATIVE
He asked her, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?”
Now our singer is a storyteller, pointing to a scene in the distance. The singer isn't in the story, and neither are we.
Let's try all three.
First-Person Narrative
I asked her, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?
Want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this Earth I would not do”
She said, “Anything I have wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing I need
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you love me, give me wings”
I walked over to the window
Silently stared into space
And said, “I just want to protect you
'Cause this world is a dangerous place”
She put her arms around me
She said “I know you mean well,
But there's lessons I must learn for myself
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you trust me, give me wings”
She said, “Up above the clouds you can see forever
And I know you and I could learn to fly together
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you trust me, give me wings
If you really love me, give me wings”
The point of view works okay, but something is askew. The emotion feels off balance, a little forced. Why is this guy standing up there with his microphone telling us the story, anyway? What's his point?
Maybe the source of the problem is that the lyric is about her, not I. Our first version of first-person narrative shines the spotlight on the wrong person. In order for the male character to sing the song, he'd have to have something important to say about the story at the end, like in the final line of Don Schlitz's “The Gambler”: But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep. Maybe something like: I gave her her freedom, and we've been great ever since / Soaring together, lovers and friends.
So let's try it the other way. Since it is her story, maybe she should be the narrator:
He asked me, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?
Want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this Earth I would not do”
I said, “Anything I have wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing I need
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you love me, give me wings”
Go back to the first version and make the rest of the changes.
This point of view is better, but not terrific. Again, why is she raising the microphone and telling us these facts? We'd still need something like: He gave me my freedom, and we've been great ever since / Soaring together, lovers and friends.
Moral: If the singer is the I in the story, you've got to give him/her a good reason for telling it.
Direct Address
Next, let's get up close and personal:
I asked you, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?
Want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this Earth I would not do”
You said, “Anything I have wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing I need
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you love me, give me wings”
I walked over to the window
Silently stared into space
I said, “I just want to protect you
'Cause this world is a dangerous place”
You put your arms around me
Said “I know you mean well,
But there's lessons I must learn for myself
If you love me, give me wings …”
Total disaster — the worst of history lessons. The you of the song was already there during the conversation, so what's the point of telling her about it again? The same is true if the woman sings the song:
You asked me, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?”
As we saw in chapter eleven, “Second Person and the Hangman,” simply telling people what they already know doesn't make for credible dialogue.
Third-Person Narrative
Finally, look at the point of view of the actual lyric of this song, “Give Me Wings,” by Don Schlitz and Rhonda Kye Fleming:
He asked her, “What gifts can I bring you
To prove that my love for you is true?
I want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this Earth I would not do”
She said, “Anything I have wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing I need
If you love m
e, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you love me, give me wings”
He walked over to the window
Silently stared into space
He said, “I just want to protect you
'Cause this world is a dangerous place”
She put her arms around him
She said, “I know you mean well,
But there's lessons I must learn for myself
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you trust me, give me wings”
She said, “Up above the clouds you can see forever
And I know you and I could learn to fly together
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how to sing
If you trust me, give me wings
If you really love me, give me wings”
Nifty. It doesn't matter if the singer is male or female, the dialogue seems complete and natural. This doesn't mean that third-person narrative is always the right answer for every lyric that uses dialogue. You should read every lyric you write in each point of view. See how each one feels, then decide which one works best.
Something on structure while we're here.
There's more to like about this little gem of a lyric, so while we're here, let's take a quick look at its structure, a really nice display of technical savvy.
The verses are fairly balanced — four lines in common meter, rhyming xaxa:
Rhyme
Stresses
He asked her, “What gifts can I bring you
x
3+
To prove that my love for you is true?
a
3
Want to make you mine forever
x
3+
There's nothing on this Earth I would not do”
a
3