But... he really DOES love it when you call.

Sometimes a song lyric can just make you laugh. You may initially be unaware of why though. Is it a clunky metaphor? Does it not scan/rhyme well? Is it "obvious" to the point of triteness? Or is it just "overly earnest"?

That last one's significant, I feel. There are lyrics one could say were quantifiably shit ('It's not a big motorcycle, just a groovy little motorbike / It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys, that two-wheeled bike' : I don't think I need to tell you why this little gem from the Beach Boys' 'Little Honda' is ... shall we say... lacking?), but their failure largely draws from an inappropriateness of setting or sheer laziness. There are songs which are pretty much taken as scripture as having great lyrics - see photo. Then there are those folk that, well, nobody really gives a shit either way, cos they sound right. though whether the lyrics are judged harshly seems more often than not to depend on a subjective reaction to what the artist represents. No-one really gives Steely Dan flack for having lyrics that sometimes make no goddamn sense and are aloof and self-referential to the point of complete opacity. I don't, certainly, 'cos they sound perfecly fitting in their setting. 

'All aboard the Carib cannibal / Off to Barbados just for the ride / Jack with his radar, stalking the dread moray eel / At the wheel with his Eurasian bride'

Now, on the page - and out of their habitat - I have no fucking clue what these lyrics mean. They work, I think, both because they sound pleasingly sibilant rolling from Donald Fagen's sneery vocal scrine, and because of their very vacuousness; the song is called 'Glamour Profession' and thus a lyric sheet of monied, cliquey babble seems entirely apt for the superficiality of its subjects. On the other hand, we have Yes's Jon Anderson, whose lyrics, it seems pretty much taken as read, are "pretentious" and "nonsensical" (hey, check the air-quotes: I must disagree with something!).  However, like the Dan (and arguably to a greater extent), he chose the lyrics for those bright, weird, knotty songs because they sounded perfectly apt on an aesthetic level; fitting the melody and mood and being less concerned with prosaic meaning. If it were a three chord "folk" song, where the integrity is decisively shifted to the lyric sheet, then yeah, we could judge them differently. But damnit: in context they work:

'Guessing problems only to deceive the mention / Passing paths that climb halfway into the void / As we cross from side to side, we hear the total mass retain.'

I feel it is a testament to their aptness that such lyrics - while eschewing directness and even traditional grammar (I pity the fool who deceives my mention) - end up as both evocative and memorable. Their very abstraction and percussiveness renders them universal, though you may not be able to draw any direct conclusions. The same could be said of a more obviously "Poetic" source: you read the lyric sheet to Bob's 'Visions of Johanna' of late? The fuck's he talking about?  'The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face'? But it sounds unique and I remember it: it sounds like it means something, and it probably does to a great many people. Its evocative rather than direct, and there ain't nothing wrong with that**.

So far, in a manner of speaking, we (and our citations*) have dodged the issue. What of those lyricists who (gasp) say it straight up? No allusions, no florid abstraction: just 'I love you baby, lets have the sex'. Being direct is far more loaded, and actually controversial, than the "Poetry with a capital P" approach. I refer back to the title of this wafflet. The lyric I am paraphrasing, as you may well know, is from a song by The Feeling. Its about a guy wanting their love interest to call, then feeling sad when they don't. It's called 'Love it When You Call'. But, and here's the killer, 'you never call at all'. I think we're supposed to think this is awful. But... why, exactly? It rhymes, it's catchy and it concisely makes a universal (oh, sorry, "broad") point about relationship (oh, sorry, "romantic clichés"). Aside from the unfashionable and unambitious bent - what is actually the problem here? Its an upbeat, ebullient and surprisingly risky track: it utilises the forgotten arts of syncopation and key-breaching harmony and incorporates knowing nods to the (at the time) dogmatically hated-on "guilty pleasure" camps of 70s and 80s Pop Rock. And, most critically of all, it's completely visceral and unvarnished in its words. The song has balls through its sheer openness, and it chirped me up at a pretty low time.

Maybe its the lack of ambition or, perhaps more accurately, the emotional directness that triggers the "crap lyric" alarm here. In the olden timey days, when you could leave your doors unlocked (though you'd be more likely to get robbed), you could write Happy songs about how much you love your partner, or Sad songs about how much you love your partner (at least without resorting to the Small Book o' Authentic Appalachian Clichés Which Is Okay Because Authentic Even Though My Being A Middle English Student At Oxbridge Means These Twangy Songs About Living In The Mountains And Simple Fishing Folk Make No Fucking Sense And Sound More Disingenuous Than Tom Waits) and not care if they were "silly" or "cliched"... because they felt true. Don't see anyone giving the Beatles shit for this. or Pet Sounds***. In a "post-modern" age, heart on your sleeve idealism or emoting has become a sadly uncomfortable proposition. 

There appears to be no clear concensus as to what "good lyrics" are. Everyone seems, however, to know what shit ones are when they rear their head. I would argue that there are, instead, lyrics that are "apt" and those that are not. Are you in love? Does it feel good? You may bust your balls trying to make the situation sound as complex and emotionally ambiguous as possible, but why? Are you embarrassed? Are you scared of being clichéd? I know I am. It takes more courage, I would argue, to say it how you feel it and, what's more, be proud of that expression than to do a Dylan. I feel sad that I judge what comes unfiltered from my brain so much. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to write a spiritually-barren song about Kowloon Walled City because there aren't many songs about that and I faultily suppose that "getting one up" in lyrical obtuseness is what'll make me special, rather than expressing myself.

So come on, guys. You ain't so tough. Come fill my little world right up.****






* Part of me's deathly afraid that if I don't use the Harvard referencing system my research methodology tutor will take my children. Or give me that doubting sidelong look. Which is worse.

** Then, of course, there's the MEANING OVER MUSIC approach: 'If I can't shoot rabbits, then I can't shoot fa-ascists'. Meaningful, maybe, but it sounds painfully contrived and downright "unmusical" to these ears. Don't sabotage the music for clever-pants lyrics, guys: it might actually end up making you sound stupid.

*** Perhaps one of the most forthright lyric sheets there is. And all the more meaningful for it.

**** Urgh. Talk about contrived...

Any good books on?

You seen that Honest Trailers video for Breaking Bad?* While, on the whole, a pretty positive endorsement for the show (along with it being a funny, well-observed video), there is a jab about a seemingly pointless family kitchen scene without dialogue. Whether they're digging at the show itself or satirizing viewers who watch it merely to see Walter do the next "awesome" thing is left to the perspective of the viewer, but it nonetheless raises interesting questions about pacing and the subjective discourse about what is "necessary" or "padding" in a piece of film or television.

Film is a visual medium. As such, I would argue there are more movies with intelligent scripts than there are intelligent movies. To deny the medium you're working in its true potential by focusing on the writing and performances is, in my view, is a waste. To illustrate the problem I have with this narrative (and often, as a result, quite literal) tunnel-vision, I'll cite a couple of unquestioningly canonised "classics": Network and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance**. Network is an excellent thesis, a good radio play and, in my opinion, a weak piece of film-making. The cinematography is more or less "get the actors in shot"; the imagery (aside from the closing studio camera montage) is secondary and the dialogue is witty, incisive and more-or-less completely devoid of any natural chemistry. It looks great on the page, it'd sound great as a (slightly hectoring) lecture, but the characters never react to each other: they just wait for a monologue to finish so they can start their own. It is, in a respect, over-written.

Exposition. There's a high probability you're thinking of talking when I say that. But, I would argue that a great film-maker would see what they can portray visually instead of relying on the script. Imagine if, instead of that penetrating (and entirely visual) scene involving the acknowledgement of Michael's place as the new head of the Corleone family - his all-to-comfortable posture; the half-closed door standing between him and the unsettled, anxious Kay; the simple gesture of the kiss that tells you exactly what's happening without needing to say shit - the end of the Godfather went like this:


     [SCENE: ROOM. MICHAEL AND KAY ARE STANDING IN IT]

     KAY: I thought you said you weren't like them! Did you kill all those people? Are you the new                     Don? I CAN'T take this anymore, Michael. I'm frightened of you now! I feel foolish for                       thinking you could have been different! What happens now? Is this the end?

[Michael waits patiently for her to finish, for some reason]

MICHAEL: DON'T ASK ME ABOUT MY BUSINESS. But since you have, I will cover each                               question respectively. With regards to me not being like my family... etc.***

So many complex emotions going on in that scene, and its such an important part of the story, but Coppola's skill ensures that no dialogue is necessary to convey them fully.

Film is not the only audio-visual medium, of course: theatre can suffer equally from Radio Play-itis. While not a font of knowledge on the subject, I have had enough exposure to the acknowledged core Shakespeare plays to say that The Man (for He is unquestionethedethded) was unparalleled in his ability to colourfully and concisely phrase fundamental human questions. It is, to be blindingly obvious, "endlessly quotable", but... but... was he not a greater writer of the written word than a stage-director? There's a lot of talking in Shakespeare's plays (Duuuuh!) ... but think about it: he tends to be remembered as a writer that stirs the imagination, rather than a playwright who conjures it. People talk about the cinematography of Citizen Kane (as well, I feel, they should). Comparable time is not afforded Shakespeare's stage directions, however*. Whether this represents a flaw, a popular oversight or me talking crap is left to your judgement. Despite the plays themselves being a standby of the theatre world, for many non-academic appreciators (myself included): its all about the words.

To return to that "filler" family scene from Breaking Bad: is it really filler? In order to judge this we must ascertain if it has any character or narrative function in the story. I would argue that it has both. Even with no verbal content, a new viewer would likely pick up the tension in the scene and, from merely the "eye-acting" and body language of the characters, whose role is which in the unspoken argument. The placing of it at the kitchen table - the most domestic and mundane of settings - is particularly pertinent when one considers the role of "family" in Walt's life, and the way that dynamic evolves throughout the series. In short: it may be subtle, but it's far from pointless.

Speaking of eyeballs (and clumsily trying to come full circle here), the still at the top of this post is, as you may already be aware, from Sergio Leone's The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. There are, I would argue, few more "visual" directors of the post-silent era. The fact that he could barely speak a word of English (and yet directed dialogue in English), likely spurred his concentration on tableaux and long gazes between characters over extensive verbal duelling. Scenes can go for 15 minutes without a word being spoken. The much-lauded "silent"  introduction to Once Upon The Time in a West - a wonderful example of "pure" film-making in which not only do the main characters say nothing, there's no music either - works because the characters are explained through what they do, how they react to circumstances and how they hold themselves. Yet I include the still from the Good, the Bad... to actually show the "long silent exchange" theory he usually applies with unparalleled skill, well... not really working that well. Now, I love that film. I love his careful pacing... but I would argue that the length of the hushed "Mexican standoff" pictured is largely unnecessary partly because it has just one function: tension. No character development, no narrative thrust, just "when are they gonna shoot?". The music is GLORIOUS, and it seems likely (as was Leone's wont) that he wished for the pre-composed score to run its course entirely before the scene cut. However, for all the majesty of the score, after a couple of minutes the well of tension begins to run dry and you are left with no real kinesis. The exception, I feel, that proves the rule.


 *If you're interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDqGAUvWKkU

**Basically has the same "stageyness" (or is that "booky"?) issues as Network. Which is weird coming from such a visually confident director as John Ford. Still worth watching, mind.

***copyright Christopher Nolan.

****Oh, except 'EXITS PURSUED BY BEAR', Which is pretty funny. 

'Like this bridge. We build it every night; Charlie blows it right back up again... just so the generals can say the road's open. Think about it: WHO CARES?!'

I'm Ed. I make music. I enjoy the creative arts. I comment on many other things (whether I truly understand them or not). In the absence of time to dedicate to more creative outlets, here is a "blog". It's called 'Windy Piss' because a) it sounds daft and b) futility*. 

If you like white middle-class English people** talking at you about a (hopefully diverse) range of subjects, you've come to the right place. If you don't agree with a lot of what I type, that's fine. If you agree with everything I say: seek a counsellor. I like to think there's a balance ... which is ironic considering how one-sided the concept of a blog is. 

If I can encourage you to check out something new, or otherwise reappraise something, I'm happy. If I can make you think about something differently: fabulous. Even if no-one reads this, I'm quite convinced it's good practice anyway. If you are reading this (ta, you!) I just hope it's worth your while in some measure. If you are generous enough to leave comments, that'd be bloody sweet.

*Conjectural.

**Does this mean anything?