Behind each Song
Every song begins somewhere. There’s a moment of inception, when it isn’t yet, and then bang, … it begins.
Sometimes it starts with a conversation, or a newspaper headline, an overheard conversation, or a memory that refuses to fade. I'm lucky enough to have lived long enough to have experienced more than my fair share of joy, inevitably lost loved ones, and like all of us, honest enough to admit it, accumulated a few regrets along the way.
I try to honour all of it in songwriting.
People often ask me where songs come from and, honestly, I don't know. I think, in truth, it happens when you’re simply ‘open’ and curious—keep your heart open, as well as your eyes and your ears. In the words of Paul Kelly, ‘all songwriters are thieves.’ Never sit next to a songwriter and tell them a story. The next time you hear it, it might be on the radio.
If you ARE going to steal, steal from the best.
I stole an idea from William Shakespeare when I was writing a song about my father called The Pinnacle. My dad was very good at giving us kids advice, so I borrowed the idea of Polonius telling his son how to behave in the big wide world. You know the 'Neither a borrower nor a lender be' speech? Well mine became:
“Don’t swear in front of your mother.
Work hard and look out for each other.
Have a firm handshake and don’t be a fake, you’ll see,
You could do a lot worse than turn out a little like me.”
I rarely sit down intending to write a song purely for its own sake. Sometimes, as a guitarist, I'm just mucking about with a chord progression or trying a different chord shape. You're simply putting your fingers in different places on the fretboard and, every now and again, you think, 'Whoa, hang on a minute... that's interesting,' or 'That's beautiful.' One little musical discovery suggests a melody, the melody suggests an emotion, and the emotion begins to suggest lyrics.
I can usually find the beginnings of a verse quite quickly. Then the hard work begins. Who's telling this story? Where is it going? More often than not, I'm trying to understand a feeling or tell a story. The melody becomes another voice in that process.
15 minutes or 15 years?
Some songs arrive quickly. Boy Meets Girl took about fifteen minutes to write. The lead guitarist in the band had the opening chords and, as soon as I heard them, I had the whole song. The melody was simply there. Those descending chords, resolving to E minor, had a lovely Beatles-esque quality that I immediately fell in love with. Later that night, sitting in my music room with a glass of pinot noir and my wife’s Maton C70 in my hands (it never leaves the house) thinking about family and what it means to different people, the lyrics simply poured out. My hand could barely scribble the words down fast enough.
Other songs take months, sometimes years, before every lyric feels honest. The challenge is knowing when to keep refining and when to let the song breathe.
What’s on my desk…
Behind every finished song lies a notebook full of abandoned verses, alternative melodies and unexpected discoveries. Then there’s the inevitable piece of paper by the bed with barely legible words scrawled with urgency in the dark. These days I usually record ideas on my phone (if I can find it!). I'll often come back months later and think, 'Hmm... that's got promise. Why didn't I keep going with that?' A little distance is so often a useful collaborator.
It's not a particularly romantic confession, but I also keep a Rhyming Thesaurus on my desk. It's one of the most useful tools in a songwriter's kit, but it can take me down a rabbit hole, chasing every possible rhyming couplet until I’m a long way from my original idea, which is indulgent fun rather than productive. Songwriting isn't magic; it's craft. You’re piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, patiently trying to make the pieces fit, seeing the image grow until the picture emerges complete.
Stay curious to the world
Songwriting is less about inspiration and way more about curiosity. Every person, every place and every experience offers another story waiting to become music.
So… next time you're on a bus, a train or waiting for a friend in a bar, observe with your senses. Listen in (legally) on conversations around you. Watch the people as they pass by. The songs are already out there—we simply have to pay enough attention to hear them.
And, if you decide to borrow someone else's story, try not to get arrested.