Songwriter U: Collected Wisdom On Songwriting, Part I

Advice on the elusive art from Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Rickie Lee Jones, Leonard Cohen, Paul Simon, Van Dyke Parks and Tom Petty

“I don’t know how to write songs.” said Lou Reed “But I know what not to do. So I just cut out everything that sucks.”

That approach to songwriting is one a few other songwriters also have said they share. That it’s not a process of how to create new content in song. It’s more a process of culling what’s best. And culling is a good way to look at it, as opposed to cutting, which seems more destructive and indicative of shoddy work. 

But that approach is but one of an endless bounty of ways to write songs. As David Bromberg said last week, in an interview yet to be published, “Any way you can write a song is a good way.” That is the most common attitude, that whatever way into a song one chooses – whether it’s a melody, a lyric, a title, a concept, a track, an overheard line, a groove, etc. –  what matters is that it leads to a full-fledged song.

In our ongoing mission of interviewing the world’s great songwriters, it’s evident that there is no easy answer about how to write a song, because none exist. Not one of these legendary songwriters, the authors of songs which have stood the test of time for decades, has ever divulged the secret of writing a great song, because there is none. Other than the recognition that songs come from a mysterious source, and the songwriter’s job has to do with learning how best to connect with that source. 

As Leonard Cohen said, “If I knew where the great songs came from, I’d go there more often.”

He then added, “The life of a songwriter is much like the life of a Catholic nun. You’re married to a mystery.” 

Everyone agreed that there is no simple or easy method to write a classic song, no repeatable pattern. And they also agreed that this unknowable quality – this mystery at the center of the process – is something all songwriters come to embrace. Many acknowledged a kind of zen acceptance of the many unanswerable aspects of the craft.

Van Dyke Parks said, “The highest praise for the form is that there is no one correct approach. That’s why I like it. I have never learned a repeatable approach pattern to songwriting. There’s no right way of writing songs.” Bob Dylan echoed this exact sentiment. “There’s no rhyme or reason to it,” he said. “There’s no rule. That’s what makes it so attractive.” 

Dylan also spoke about learning how to do consciously what he’d done unconsciously for years, and it’s a transition every serious songwriter has to make, from artistic instinct to artistic intelligence. Songwriting becomes a conscious attempt to delve into the unconscious.

Even those writers who scoff at the concept of a spiritual source for their songs admit that the phenomenon of having them simply arrive feels magical. Paul Simon said that both the words and music for the phrase “Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down” all came at once. And he knew it was good. But he emphasized that was an extreme exception, and that “mainly it’s just waiting. Waiting for the show to begin.”

Yet while waiting, Simon doesn’t impose himself on a song. Asked if he actively thinks about what he wants his song to say before writing, he said, “No, not anymore. I consciously try not to think about what a song should say. Because I am interested in what I find as opposed to what I’m planting … I like to discover it rather than plot it out… As soon as your mind knows that it’s on and it’s supposed to produce some lines, either it doesn’t or it produces things that are very predictable … I’m interested in discovering where my mind wants to go, or what object it wants to pick up. It always picks up on something true.”

Van Dyke Parks agreed that in songwriting, it’s truth that is the ultimate goal. “It is always the truth that matters,” he said. “In any song, there is a central truth. And you either find it, or allude to it. It’s the truth that everyone wants … Songwriting is a matter of self-discovery … I want that moment of contemplation or meditation when you’re moving with this thing, you’re not in a lotus position, you’re working like a hornet out of hell; all of that work is supportive of the original revelation. Something is revealed to you.”

And in the amalgamation of all of the thoughts, there’s much to be gained. As Van Dyke Parks said about these interviews, “What is transferable is this sense of courage, of derring-do. This is infectious. This is highly contagious. And confirmational. It’s as helpful as belonging to some religious sect. Hearing someone say ‘Amen.’”

Randy Newman also emphasized that one must remain receptive while writing, and not impose too much conscious intention while in its midst. “Don’t let the critic become bigger than the creator,” he said. “Don’t let it strangle you.”

“It is a spirit being born,” said Rickie Lee Jones. “It’s a living spirit. When people hear it, a spirit happens to them. And you have to be quiet and careful when it is being born, and you can’t tell it it’s wrong, ‘cause it will just die.”

Tom Petty agreed: “You’ve got to just let them arrive. You can’t question what you’re doing or that’ll get in the way.” We’d been talking about the way you can work on a song and get nowhere for months, and then suddenly a great one – like his song “Wildflowers” – just arrives. It’s not a job in which work always equals achievement.

“It’s because you’re dealing in magic,” Petty said. “It’s this intangible thing that has got to happen. And to seek it out too much might not be a good idea. Because, you know, it’s very shy, too.”