NOTE FROM EDITOR:This article is an opinion piece written by our own board member, David Guilbault. It does not represent the opinions of our organization as a whole and is meant to inspire thought and discussion. A companion piece, a response, has been submitted by another board member, Todd Christoffel. It is our sincere hope that you will read both pieces and then respond via email to info@songwritersinseattle.com. Lucid responses may be published.
Lennon and McCartney are liars. They wrote, “I give you all my love.” Really? All your love? Can anyone give all their love? Don’t people love their kids? Or pizza? Or golf? Or macramé?
The Temptations sang “You’re My Everything.” Really? Don’t some people cherish their motorcycles, or their wardrobes, or their accomplishments? If so, then the heartthrob of that song is not the writer’s everything.
The Everly Brothers sang one of my favorite songs, written by the brilliant Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, called “Devoted to You.” Um, I don’t think so. Don’t most people spend an awful lot of their time devoted to their work? These songwriters are not telling the truth.
Songwriters tell of giving their souls to their loved ones. Well, if there is such a thing as a soul, it can’t be given, or shared. So, nope. That’s a lie. Lyricists proclaim their affection for their darling one “till the end of time.” Yet, half of marriages end in divorce. Again, the songwriter is untruthful. Songs about the heart are often fantasies, and usually demonstrably false.
Songs about heartbreak, on the other hand, are almost always painfully true. Maybe that’s why I am drawn to break-up songs and not romantic songs. I choose truth over fiction.
The Bryant’s also wrote one of the most honest songs about love, called “Love Hurts.” It starts with these lines:
Love hurts, love scars Love wounds, and mars Any heart, not tough Or strong, enough To take a lot of pain Take a lot of pain Love is like a cloud Holds a lot of rain Love hurts, ooh ooh love hurts
This is the truth, laid bare. I invite you to listen to it sung by Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris from Gram’s “Return of the Grievous Angel” album. Their performance almost always brings me to tears. This is lyrical honesty.
Certainly, as a colleague who reviewed this column before publication noted, songwriters, like all artists, are allowed poetic license. And the artistic expressions of The Beatles, The Temptations, and the Everly Brothers, like all musicians, are likely not meant to be taken literally. So, maybe it’s a bit harsh to label them as liars. On, the other hand, I can’t think of any Dylan songs with similar sentiments.
So, what is truth in songwriting? What love songs strike you as heartfelt and true? How about your own love songs? Are they honest? I’d ‘love’ to hear what you think. Let’s talk about it.
NOTE FROM EDITOR:This is companion piece to Are You a Liar?, an opinion piece submitted by David Guilbault. If you haven’t read that piece yet, we’d suggest you start there, then come back here. It is our sincere hope that you will read both pieces and then respond via email to info@songwritersinseattle.com. Lucid responses may be published.
Am I a liar? You bet! I lie with regularity in songwriting. Well… exaggerate, make stuff up, talk about things that I can only dream of, fantasize about imaginary gobbledygook.
Here’s the deal - there is nothing like songwriting to key into the listeners emotions with stories real, made up, or imagined. I would not want to limit myself to one style, and I sure do love having my artistic license that I like to use to my own advantage.
Just thinking back to some tunes, I’ve written songs about capturing a Wombat, about the Bigfoot, a coyote, a seller at Pike Place market, and on and on. I’ve also bared my soul with pain and sorrow and written some mostly biographical goofy stuff.
Here are some lines from 4 different songs:
“We’ve got brains as big as meatloaves but they do not think a thing.”
We held a rock above our gleaming eyes and then we had a thought that made the monkey wise”
“We could turn these stars to monsters or to glimmers in our eyes”
“I said oh yeah I can I can be your Kahoona Woo Hoo.”
Hey - and that’s NOTHING.
As for love…
Yeah, love is a fantasy, The most marvelous, all-consuming, terrifying, and most captivating of all the emotions, in my humble opinion, and so is a never ending source of song inspiration, both real and imagined.
I choose both fiction mixed with truth and pure fiction without truth. Sorry folks, I just want to surprise you, or tell you something, or even tear your heart out. That’s songwriting to me.
How about your songs? Are they honest are they fantasy? I’d ‘love’ to hear what you think…
Saral Navlakha is launching a new recurring event on our calendar, so we decided to interview him and share with you why he is taking this on.
To begin, Saral, tell us a little about your music.
“My name is Saral and I am primarily a singer these days. I joined Songwriters in Seattle several years ago and was impressed by the caliber of musicians and the sense of community engendered by the group. However, after being in a few traditional rock bands, I took a multi-year hiatus from SiS to explore new genres and find a fresh musical direction that allows me to express myself in more dynamic ways. For the last two years, I have been taking voice lessons and playing with different sounds. A few months ago, I finally found a style that felt right: experimental electronic music! I like this space because it allows me to incorporate operatic, contemporary, and avant garde vocal approaches. Artists that currently inspire me include Zola Jesus, Nostalghia, ANOHNI, Chelsea Wolfe, Sigur Rós, and Björk.”
And now you are back to Songwriters in Seattle?
“Yes, that is exactly right. Though I have studied and played many different genres, I want to dive deeper into electronic music. Consequently, I decided to reengage with SiS a few weeks ago with the goals of meeting, learning from, and collaborating with artists with similar interests. After talking to a few active SiS members, I realized I could meet these goals by creating my own event.”
“Inspired by the existing SiS feedback events, Electronic Song Share will bring together artists working in any electronic genre for the purpose of sharing original songs and receiving feedback. The idea is to go around the room and spend approximately 15 minutes listening to and constructively discussing each song. Each individual may request feedback on specific song elements such as mix/production, song structure, instrumentation, vocals, et cetera. The beauty of this event is that everyone learns from everyone’s songs!
You mentioned that this was inspired by an existing SiS feedback event. Do you plan to remain involved in these other events as well as hosting your own?
“Absolutely! I see Electronic Song Share as a complement to existing SiS events. Given the genre I am working in, one of my core challenges is writing songs that are experimental while remaining accessible. Receiving feedback from diverse groups is a great way to overcome this challenge. Not to mention that both giving and receiving feedback is fun, exciting, and educational!”
Well said, Saral, is there anything else you’d like to say to prospective attendees?
Todd Christoffel has been involved with Songwriters in Seattle nearly from the start, and joined the Songwriters in Seattle online membership on meetup.com in 2008. As a board member, Todd hosted board meetings at his home for several years. He has been an event host, a supportive member providing invaluable help behind the scenes, and has performed solo or with his band, Don’t Ask, at many functions and events.
Here is a little more about him, in his own words:
When I was a kid, it was the heyday of the coffee house scene in the Chicago area; stuff like Steve Goodman at the Earl of Old town. I started writing songs in high school with a beatup old guitar that my brother left sitting around, and he invited me to go to his college coffee shop to play some of my original music. Well, just one time and I was hooked. I think I just sang a song called “I Wish I was a Toad”.
When I was in college in Illinois, I didn’t really know what the heck I wanted to do, so I quit after a couple of years, packed up my Honda Civic, and drove down to Nashville. But I was pretty young and naïve and after meeting with a few people who generally showed interest I was told by one guy, “If you stick around a few years you probably could really go somewhere.” I was so young that a few years sounded like an eternity to me. I didn’t have a job, and I really didn’t have a good place to stay, so I hightailed it back home to get a “real job”. (Birth of the song “There was a Murder in Nashville”).
I happened to be in love with my high school sweetheart, so I got married, got a real job, and decided that I would forget about music. Getting married was great, but the new job in Seattle wasn’t all that interesting and the “forgetting about music” part didn’t really work out. Seattle was a great place though, so we decided to stay. All the while though, I still kept writing and enjoying it and playing out at open mics, etc.
I took a couple of courses in microbiology at the local community college, and I really enjoyed that, so I decided I would get a med tech degree at the UW and look for a job in hospitals. When I was interviewing, I talked to a rather famous blood researcher at the local blood bank, and we sort of hit it off. She offered me a job in research, which was just fine because working in a hospitals after my Internships in the med tech program was not all that appealing to me. So I now have a nice career in medical research… a career that I feel helps people and one that can pay the bills.
At the blood bank, one of the techs in another department said, “Hey there’s another guy in the Crossmatch Lab who plays guitar. Maybe you two guys should get together.” So Cris Faget and I met up and started a partnership in music. We have played together now for over 25 years. We first had a group called String Theory, and after adding some members, we decided to call it Don’t Ask because we were tired of people asking us what kind of music we did. We recorded a couple of CDs, had a bit of limited success in Seattle, and then had members come and go and then come back again. We have really enjoyed playing music together. Playing in a band has really evolved the way I write to include rhythmic and melodic diversity. It just has changed the way I write, period.
During the inception of Songwriters in Seattle, I was just surfing the web looking for songwriter stuff when I happened upon their meetup group. They were at the Pike Place market just doing their monthly meetings, and I really enjoyed the comraderie and the other writers’ music. There was a wonderfully committed core of folks that helped Songwriters in Seattle get started.
One thing led to another, and it seemed like a really good fit for me. I felt as if I could help myself become a better writer and help other writers become better, so I’ve stuck with it all this time. It never ceases to amaze me the diversity of talent that walks through the doors during one of those monthly meetings. Meeting and playing and seeing all these amazing people is what I think keeps me coming back year after year. Also, we have some wonderful people who are involved and who are ever inspiring.
Who knows what the future holds for Songwriters in Seattle? Maybe house concerts or “meet and greet” social events. There have been ambitious ideas that have been floated. For instance, maybe Songwriters in Seattle could run their own coffee house and use the funds to promote concerts and to further the songwriting community.
Whatever lies ahead, being on the board has been good because it’s nice to feel like part of a larger community of like-minded individuals. It’s also nice to make new friends and hear new ideas, and being on the board allows you to shape the vision of what Songwriters in Seattle can become.
The childhood home of singer/songwriter Jim Hanna was one infused with the sounds of Americana. “There was always music in the house. Dad played several instruments including tenor guitar, tenor banjo, mandolin, piano, and the occasional ocarina/kazoo/harmonica. Dad’s siblings all enjoyed playing as well, so there would be music whenever they got together - which was fairly often.”
Outside of the home, church added to that soundscape with mom’s influence. “Mom didn’t play any instruments, but she made us get up and dressed every Sunday and headed us off to church where there were plenty of hymns sung,” he reflected. Though his siblings played piano and sang, Jim’s contributions in church were only vocal. “I sang in the church youth choir, but (stupidly) refused to take piano lessons when I was young because ‘that was a girl thing’ - three older sisters made it seem that way to a young boy.”
Though Jim did not start writing songs until later in life, he did catch the performing bug in elementary school. “The 5th grade talent show was a very tenuous thing for me. I was so nervous I could hardly play guitar or sing, but somehow my two buddies and I made it through Evening of the Day (Rolling Stones).” Perhaps because of working through that nervousness, he continued to perform in occasional bands throughout junior high and high school.
When college beckoned, Jim put off any regular performing and earned a degree in physics before moving to Southern California. Once there, he began to explore open mics. “The Banjo Cafe in Santa Monica was walking distance from my house, and I could not resist music and beer! The Banjo Cafe had a Monday night open mic, and I decided to try it out. That’s where I met my friend and guitar player extraordinaire, Gene Williams, and we started playing music together - first as a duo, then a trio, and finally a 5-piece country rock band. We had some great times playing the California beach bars.” He added, “During that time I wrote a few songs; however, I really did not know how to structure songs or what it meant to write good lyrics.”
A wife and raising children filled up his life after a move to Washington State where he focused on his career as an aerospace engineer. But as his children grew older, Jim was able to return to his ‘other life’ as a musician. “I once again got the performance bug and started searching out open mics near our home in Maple Valley, but there were no open mics close to home. The closest at the time was in Kent, at Titusville Station, and I frequented it for a while.”
Since necessity is the mother of invention, for Jim Hanna, the lack of a local performance space was the catalyst for creating a space for him and other artists to fill the void. “I complained about that void to friends and family until one day an artist friend told me there was a new space in town, and they wanted to do an open mic. I took on the challenge and started running one - with no idea what I was doing. That blind attempt turned into seven years of great fun and wonderful performances.”
Though now a veteran performer, Jim Hanna still experiences challenges. “As a performer my biggest struggle was, and sometimes still is, confidence. It took a lot of years to gain what confidence I have. I remember pretty well when I got over that hump.” He went on to explain, “Sometime around the fourth or fifth year, I was on stage and realized that the people in the audience were actually enjoying what I was doing. I knew then and there that if I could do something I loved and make other people happy doing it, I was there!”
The transition from performer to songwriter took some additional time. “While I feebly attempted writing songs when I was in late high school and college, I did not start writing seriously until I was in my 50’s, “ he explained. “Somewhere in that time period I decided that I could probably write songs - I had a decent vocabulary, could make simple rhymes, and could play guitar a little. Like any other activity it took quite a few attempts to get something that I was not embarrassed to play for other folks.”
While Jim’s career was aided by his study of physics in college, this knowledge and skill set did not necessarily cross over into his new focus on songwriting. “I earned a physics degree and was an aerospace engineer for my working career. When you write as an engineer it is point 1, point 2… without room for metaphors or insinuation. I am often challenged with keeping my lyrics on subject without being overly straight forward. Now,” he elaborated, “I try to employ lyrics that can be interpreted in different ways by different listeners.”
Contrary to Edison’s belief that success is 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration, Bill stated that he, “tend[s] to be more of an ‘inspiration’ writer than a ‘perspiration’ writer. By that I mean that once in a while I will hear a phrase or stumble upon a guitar part that inspires a song. I am about equal on starting with lyrics or music.”
That is not to suggest that he does not work at his craft. He went on to say, “I have written towards a particular subject (for me that equals perspiration) with limited success. I have penned a few numbers for bands that I have been in, and they are passable but not of the quality of some of my inspired songs, in my opinion.”
While Hanna’s career may not have helped his songwriting skills, there were other beneficial aspects. “Having never had to rely on music to survive allowed me to approach it casually. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I have never seen music as a chore. It has always been a fun thing to do. Being generally lazy, I never had to push myself hard, and so I didn’t. Consequently, I don’t read music and have a limited but working knowledge of the fretboard and music theory.”
That is one thing that Jim would change if he could defy the physics of time and space. “If I were to go back in time, I would definitely learn keyboard/piano and at least some music theory. It’s not that I am unhappy where I am musically; I would just have that many more tools at my disposal and more ways to get my music out there.”
Songwriters just beginning their careers might do well to heed this advice to acquire every tool possible, but for Jim Hanna, his greatest resource was actually provided in community. “Music is meant to be shared. It should be shared with an audience, with other musicians in a band situation, or with friends and family just sitting around. But, it should definitely be shared.”
“I learned most of what I know from other musicians - stealing guitar licks, learning new styles, and trying new instruments.” He reflected, “When Chet Atkins was asked if he stole guitar licks he said, (and I paraphrase) ‘I really just borrow them but sometimes forget where I got them.’”
He added, “By far the best situation is to play with other musicians who are slightly better than you are and have them pull you up to their level. There is a fine line where they are so much better than you that it’s uncomfortable or even embarrassing, but if you are able to find that sweet spot where it all works, it’s amazing.” Hanna has had ample opportunity to find that sweet spot as he plays with other musicians in a variety of settings. Though he is mainly an acoustic guitar player and does most of his composing on guitar, he also plays a little electric guitar, electric bass, mandolin, piano, and harmonica.
For Jim Hanna and his new career in music, the business world’s model of “continuous improvement” still applies. He reflected, “There is always room to improve. I am fortunate to have recently retired and can spend more time learning, writing, and performing. My latest adventure is to try and learn to make quality recordings at home. Books, an online class, and several software programs later, I understand more than I did a year or two ago, and my recordings sound better. I feel like I am on the verge of getting it!”
Hanna’s excitement about this new phase of his songwriting career is tangible. “I have plenty of material for a new CD and just need to get it produced. I am trying to finish before I have enough songs for yet another CD. It’s a race to the finish.” Unbound from the time constraints of his former career, now retired and with ample time on his hands, Jim Hanna’s home now reflects the same soundscape found in the home of his childhood where a father and his family filled the air with music. But now the music is his.