Writings on Music
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Emotional Music

Like all musicians, I wrote a lot of awful songs when I was a teenager. Don't believe those who may tell you otherwise, but all songwriters wrote about that special someone in high school. The one you were going to be with forever - because yours was a true love, not like all the other teenage romances. The one who broke your heart and tore you down for all time. The one who convinced you that real love is nothing like a Paul McCartney song.

Basically, the one who turned you into a songwriter.

Now I'm not proud of the - I don't know, maybe fifty or so - songs I wrote in that weepy emo vain. But I don't disown them, either. I keep them in my songs database in the hope that someday I'll rewrite them into good songs. Or at least rewrite the music with extreme pop sensibilities (because what better definition of pop music is there than "catchy hook plus asinine lyrics?").

So what I am getting at is my growing distaste for personal emotion in music. I don't like songs that are about me. I find them, believe it or not, too personal. And because of that I cannot see them objectively, or treat my music as a craft.

It's like that girl in college writing classes who only wrote poems about the time she was raped. Fine, good, you need an outlet for those feelings, and it's healthy to share. But not in a writing workshop class, because people are going to tell you to change it. In college I was the jerk who said such blashphemous things as "this is a lame rhyme" or "nothing here is very original," only to be shot down with the defense "but this is what really happened." And by "jerk" I of course mean "only one who wouldn't let really crappy poetry get high praise just because it was factual." If it really happened and I'm not allowed to critique it, then why are we workshopping it? As you can imagine, I got shunned a lot in those classes.

So let's get to the fun (read: embarrassing) part. The part where I share some crap songs I've written. Here's one from 1995:


Have you seen her?
Have you seen her eyes?
Can you say you know her?

Can you hear her?
Hear the whispers she sighs?
Can you say you know her?

Can you feel the pain?
Can you see it in my eyes?
Don't you wish that you could have it
Living in your heart?
Always ready to strike
Waiting for my darkest hour.

*shudder*

And here's an excerpt from the ultimate in weepy emo crap. I don't have a date for it, but it's certainly pre-1998.


I have never been in love before
I cannot imagine the sight
I have never been loved before
I cry throughout the night

Nobody understands who I am
or what I am saying
No one believes I am a man
They all think I am playing
That could probably be rewritten as a far-too-close-to-the-mark parody of crappy music. But let's fast-forward to something more recent:

First snow of the year
you caught me off guard
one minute my path is clear
then you're in my yard

  making up for lost time
  coming on so strong
  and I forget the last time
  when you done me wrong

You're only lovely for a while
Before the sludge starts to show
I always fall for your smile
But soon enough everybody knows

You show the marks of everyone
who has stepped on you
but instead of moving on
you make a badge of the abuse

  'Look at me,' you say 'I'm dirty'
  'And that deserves attention'
  you ask to be forgiven
  but you're not pure as the driven

first snow of the year
you took me by surprise
I thought my mind was clear
but now I can't decide

This is "First Snow," written in early 2006. This is still a relationship song, but the difference here is that it's not about anybody. Not about me, not about her, not about you. It's about snow, and I cleverly personified the snow. And it's precisely because I have no personal attachment to the song that I was able to get a good lyric out. If I felt I needed to keep some sort of truth, I'd never be able to tell a story.

Now something like this doesn't honestly come from nowhere. I obviously have some experience, first hand or otherwise, that informs this lyric. But it's gotten to the point that it's an archetype, and I'm just writing to a form. And that's the point at which I stopped being a sad kid with a guitar and became a composer.

I still write the occasional song that is about me or someone I know. I deny up and down that the songs are personal, so that I can get feedback on how to improve them. But these days I'm mostly writing about clocks and weather patterns, maggots and video arcades, murderers and philosophers. By being removed from my subjects, I'm able to make my work much more personally satisfying.

Copyright © 1996-2008 Chris Combs. All rights reserved.
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