So, as promised but a bit later because that’s how things always go for me, here is my picking-apart of a song so we can all start learning a bit about the vocabulary of music. I have randomly chosen the Beach Boys’ song “Darlin’” because it happened to come up on my radio station on Pandora.com. (It’s called “get up smiling ” if you want to try to find it.) If you haven’t heard the song, take a moment to listen to it below. I’d recommend listening with headphones if you have a pair handy; it’s hard to hear the bass on normal computer speakers.

Let’s start with a quick structural overview. There are two major patterns to observe: first, the pattern of verse, chorus and other parts; second, the rhyme scheme within each of those parts. The verse-chorus structure is pretty typical for a pop song, with an introductory chorus, alternation between two verses and the chorus, and a short bridge before the final chorus and the fadeout. We can abbreviate this as C-V1-C-V2-C-B-C-fade.

I will get into the chorus in more detail later, but at the moment let’s examine the fascinating rhyme structure of the verse lyrics and the way that interplays with the vocal melody. This song is unique in that each verse consists of six lines arranged as three couplets. This means (in case you don’t remember poetry from English class) that the first two lines rhyme (AA), the second two lines rhyme on a different sound (BB), and the last two lines also rhyme on yet another sound (CC). Rhyme structure is important in pop songs, as it reinforces the ability of the listeners to learn and remember the lyrics. The melody follows this as well: the first two lines have identical melody, as do the second two. The last two lines in the verse repeat the melody of the first two, then launch into the small “joining” piece, “Oh, Darlin’”, which lets us know we’re moving back into the chorus again. This structure somewhat mimics the traditional (gospel/blues/slave) “call and response” structure, except of course it is the solo vocalist singing both parts.

Now for the chorus. It is, at its core, quite simple and “sing-along-able”–the complexity lies in the two contrapuntal lines being sung by the soloist and by the backup singers. As previously mentioned, the introduction to the song is an instance of the chorus, but in this case only the backup singers are heard. This gives us the chance to hear clearly and learn this portion of the melody. The tonal quality (timbre) of the voices mimics the horns in the instrumental lines–while the Beach Boys are primarily a vocal band, their various songwriters were always conscious of the “voices” of the instruments used and there would be plenty of experimenting to get just the right sound. (This gets more interesting when you listen to various live versions of songs, when it wasn’t possible to precisely control both instrumentation and recording practice.) The background part of the chorus is simple lyrically and melodically, but the word “Darlin’” repeats twice, thereby making sure we’ll remember the name of the song.

The solo part of the chorus is higher in the balance of the recording, of course, as we are meant to listen to this part. While the background is punchy (staccato) and hornlike, the solo is smoother (legato) and accurately conveys the depth of love he has for the subject “Darlin’”. The fact that there are two independent yet complementary lines going on at the same time is what makes this counterpoint. By focusing your mind on one or the other, you can hear each clearly, but relaxing your mind you will hear the ebb and flow of the two parts–an entirely different sonic experience.

The bridge, generally, serves to add some variation and keeps the audience’s attention by giving them something different instead of another verse, before the final chorus (and in this case, fadeout). As such, the chords and instrumentation change, as do the lyrics (consisting of a single line and a couplet) and melody (the couplet lines do not have the same melody, as the verse couplets do). Yet it still ends with the “Oh, Darlin’” that launches into the chorus. There is also, at the beginning of the bridge, an upward movement of chords that is not present in the verse, which serves as warning that we are doing something different this time. The lyrics tie in to the previous verse’s final couplet (”Gonna love you every single night / Cause I think you’re too out of sight”) by singing a variation on that line:

Oh, every night, oh Darlin’

Gonna love you every single night, yes I will
Cause I think you’re too doggone out of sight

Lyrically, then, we can tell this is a love song: a man has been rescued from a life without love by Darlin’. Musically, it is also a song of celebration.

It is uptempo, in 4/4 time with a strong emphasis (as is usual in rock songs) on the 2 and 4 beats, a/k/a the backbeat. The staccato horns, tambourine, and rolling piano line keep the song moving forward and upward: no sappy embrace, this song, but a jubilant dance, the kind of hug that picks you up and spins you around.

I leave you with two more versions of Darlin’ (and the recognition that, yes, this might be overkill). The first is a live version from a 70s incarnation of the Beach Boys, and the second is a live version from Brian Wilson and his current band, several years ago.

In recent interviews, the new American Idol, David Cook, has been predicting that his first CD will be “anthemic”. This week he talked to John Melendez of the Jay Leno show, after Cook says that his CD will be a rock record, Melendez asks him about playing with ZZ Top on the AI finale and asks:

is it going to be more that kind of rock, like a bluesy-based… ?

Cook replies,

Nah, It’ll be still kind of anthemic, I think for me, it’s just gonna be a matter of putting out songs that have something to say..

David Cook Tonight Show Interview

Is that an actual genre of rock music? Why does it give me visions of hair bands in large arenas full of my male classmates who thought that “2001: A Space Odyssey” was deep, their bics alight..

In more recent years, think U2, possibly the most pretentious rock band of all time. Or Spinal Tap.

Here’s a definition that doesn’t give me a lot of comfort:

Music is a pretty manipulative art-form at the best of times, but even so, Anthemic Rock is a particularly manipulative musical genre. The whole point of Anthemic Rock is to tug at the guts of the listener: to instil in him or her a peculiar sense of yearning for something that can’t quite be defined. It’s a stirring feeling, but also a slightly queasy one if you stop to think about it too much (as is my wont). But perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Anthemic Rock is the fact that, when you actually stop and listen to it, the lyrics are so often working at cross-purposes to the music: while the music of Anthemic Rock is, by definition, designed to be played loud, through speakers, and heard by large groups of people at the same time to create some kind of communal experience, the lyrics are often, in fact, about cutting off the listener from the rest of the world.

Yelling About Music

I thought some more about what makes a rock song anthemic:

Accessible melody, sing-a-long chorus “We Don’t Need No Education”, “We Are The Champions” The simpler the lyrics, the easier the chorus is to learn, the more likely the band will create the massive communal experience that only loud familiar music and lots of beer and/or secondary inhalation of illegal smoke inspires. Power chords and an insistent 4-4 beat are a must.

The lyrical theme must be Serious. No little deuce coupes, endless summer nights or honky tonk women.

Living on a prayer, and Not getting fooled again are fine themes. It’s also fine to sing about “Only Rock & Roll”, “I Love Rock n Roll”, “Rock and Roll All Night” or “Old Time Rock N Roll”.

If it’s a song you danced to at weddings, or made out to in high school, it’s probably not anthemic rock. However, a rock anthem may well have been your prom theme in the 1980s:

If your neighbor played it every night in the dorm while you tried to sleep or study, then it probably is anthemic rock.

I love the communal aspect of rock music. The thrill of classic rock concerts is sitting in a hockey rink with 18,000 of your closest friends, Paul McCartney in the Garden, “Back in the USSR” with that driving beat hardwired into our collective brains, and for three minutes he was just seventeen, if you know what I mean… and so were we. At the beginning we really did think rock music would change the world, because it made us feel like we could.

While I usually like my music with sophistication, funk and groove and soul, or at least an awesome beat, I respect the power of anthemic rock. A few years ago I finally got to see one of my favorite late 60s bands, the Guess Who, with its founding members Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings. Mr. Bachman was also in another major band, Bachman-Turner Overdrive. So naturally the concert included a few of BTO’s big hits including this:

Since TCB was not one of my favorite songs, I didn’t have a personal emotional connection to the song, but a good portion of the crowd certainly did. I couldn’t help but get swept into the party.

I say you can be anthemic without sacrificing the beat and the groove. These are tunes that make you want to dance the night away and kick some butt all at the same time..

So to the Newest American Idol I say, go write some rock anthems, and bring us all together with raucous glorious noise. But remember the words that Emma Goldman didn’t actually say, “If I can’t dance I don’t want to be in your revolution.” Power chord ballads have their place, but you can’t find redemption without a saxophone:

The Greatest Rock Anthem Ever

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Or, Mari proves she has awful taste in music.

Ah, the novelty song. A distinctly American song form, the novelty song has been around since the 1920s and the golden age of Tin Pan Alley. Wikipedia has an excellent short history of the novelty song (it really doesn’t need to be long) and also a huge list of novelty songs and comedic musicians. Flip through it; I’m sure you’ll recognize at least 20 if you have ears and a radio. Remember the song “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window”? Yup, that was a novelty song, and it became so popular there was actually a backlash against it in the early 50s! Maybe that’s why it’s a children’s song now…

Within my lifetime, the novelty songs to hit the charts have either been by “Weird Al” Yankovic or were dance songs. In fact, most songs that have dances that go with them (”The Macarena”) are novelty songs, although some (”The Twist”) have gone on to become just-plain-hits. Prior to “Weird Al”, comedic musicians like Ray Stevens and Dave Seville & the Chipmunks topped the charts. One of my dad’s favorite albums is Ray Stevens’ The Streak, so I know that pretty well! But for my money, the best novelty song ever (and Wikipedia agrees) is “They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!” In fact, the only thing better than that song is the B-side to the single — the same song, played backward. (If you don’t believe me, c’mon over to my parents’ basement. They own it. In fact, I think my parents own a lot of novelty songs. Hmm.)

So what makes a hit novelty song? Cuddle up with your “Ding-A-Ling” (Chuck Berry) and get ready to learn!
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I’m one of those people that looks for patterns in everything. I may have mild obsessive-compulsive disorder (or whatever they’re calling it these days). Let’s not discuss why; I’m here to discuss a pattern I’ve been noticing for years.

People seem to be intimidated by the serious discussion of art. By art I mean the concrete arts (painting, sculpture), music, other performance arts (dance, wrapping buildings in plastic wrap), and writing. I even see the symptoms of this in myself sometimes, and I consider myself pretty well educated and also both engaged with and skeptical of the arts communities. (Full disclosure, in case I haven’t mentioned it before: I have a bachelor’s degree in music theory and history.)

I’m going to focus on music for the purposes of this post, since that’s what this blog is about. Here are the symptoms that I have seen: Vague complaints like “that song is not like his other songs” or “that song sounds like all his other songs”. A focus on the physical appearance of the artist. A focus on the personal life/emotional state/mental state of the artist (I mean other than Britney Spears, since obviously that’s wayyyyy more fascinating than her music). Vast amounts of excitement surrounding a new release, then comments like “Yeah, that’s pretty good” after the first listen. Outright refusal to discuss the music, while dissecting the meaning of the lyrics to death. Fear of instrumentals and jams.

Now, what would a serious discussion look like, in opposition to the above “symptoms”? Well, how about a discussion of keys and chords, and the way they set a mood and manipulate your emotions? Instead of “This song makes me sad because the lyrics are so sad,” you could say “This song makes me burst out in tears in the third verse because I think the chords are different from the first two verses, they’re sadder.” You don’t even have to know the difference between major and minor! And in the discussion of lyrics, I would love to hear less “Those lyrics are funny!” and more “The internal rhymes in that verse make it sound almost like a rap, but with more melody.”

So why are people afraid to engage in this sort of behavior? I think it’s because so many artists have made it a “thing” to say, “I am an artiste,” like that somehow makes them superior. Also, a lot of critics are total snobs. Of course regular, everyday, non-music-major people are going to be intimidated!

Well, here I am, music major, critic, snob extraordinaire, to tell you that you do not need to be intimidated by my kind!  At heart, I really am just a regular ol’ music listener; I have some terrible taste and some great taste, and I think everyone else does, too.  So let’s all just have a little chat about music, why don’t we?

Over the next few months, I am going to make it my personal mission to bring our readers out of their shells and convince you all to join in the conversation.  Let me know what I can do to make this a safe place for you to learn to talk about music without feeling like a dork.  Hey, I can’t tell a diminished chord from a monkey hitting a keyboard after years and years of ear-training.  So we can use words like “crunchy” and “groovy”, but I’ll also try to teach you the vocabulary of music.  If this works, I’ll go start an art blog.   Kidding… kinda.  To this end, I’ll be picking a song every week or so, then picking it apart.  Everyone is invited to jump in and tell me I’m wrong (actually, you’re always invited to do that).  How does that sound?

If you said “like church music”, we’re on our way already!

Welcome back to my hit tutorial! In our last installment, I covered hit dance songs. Today, I’m covering the other major genre of hits, the mid-tempo ballad.

The best way to illustrate the hit ballad is to examine the songwriting successes of Diane Warren. I cannot stand her songs, or her personally, but she has had more hit songs than any other songwriter in the 20th/21st centuries, so where better to start?  Artists to look at are Mariah Carey and Celine Dion.

With dance songs, we built from the bottom (the beat) up. With ballads, we move in the other direction, starting with the lyrics. Lyrics should be about love, or miracles, or other inspirational things, or occasionally about lost love. Think of your average American Idol “coronation” song — you want a song that conveys both grandiosity and happiness.  (There actually used to be a random word generator on the Internet that would create a random AI song.  If anyone still has the link, please let me know!)  Use a lot of words, too, especially in your verses, and make sure to have a bridge. The bridge will come in handy later when you get to the chord and key changes. When you write the chorus, make sure to include lots of open vowels — oohs, ohs, and ahs. Avoid ee’s, because they sound screechy when held and hiccupy when Mariah goes into melisma (a/k/a “runs”).

Which brings us to the melody. Long, sweeping phrases and an opportunity for the eventual singer to show off his or her vocal range and breath control are key. (Unless you know you’re writing for someone with no vocal range or breath control, like Madonna or Britney.) Don’t write too many notes, as a basic outline is fine. The singer will have their own style for filling in the blanks, honed over years of impressing Star Search judges. The singer’s style will also serve as a reminder of the genre they have been pigeonholed into: a country singer will be more yodely and a pop singer will be more punchy. Also, your chord progressions will provide them with a guide.

So what’s all this about chord progressions and key changes? 
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What makes a song a hit? Is it a fashionable genre? Is it a (f/ Akon) notation in the credits? Or is there something more universal that gets radio requests and mass downloads? Considering that hits come from all genres and certainly existed before the advent of the professional guest artist, I’m inclined to go with that universal theory.

My personal experience is that there are two “usual” types of hits: the uptempo dance number, and the midtempo ballad (a/k/a makeout song). In this blog, I’m going to examine uptempo songs. Later, we’ll cover ballads, and the third, rogue category, the novelty song (which can occasionally fit into one or the other of the first two categories). Now, on to the hits!

The backbone of a danceable song is the backbeat. (It even has “back” in it!) This usually consists of drums (or some kind of percussion, drum machine, etc.) and some kind of bass line, either from bass guitar, “stand up” double bass, or maybe the left hand of the piano or organ player. This is what you tap your feet or fingers to, it’s what you move and groove and shake your booty to. It’s what made people on American Bandstand say, “It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it, I give it an 8.5″ for many, many years. If you haven’t got a beat, you haven’t got a hit dance song.

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