ESSAY| CREATIVITY
I Don’t Write the Songs
The songs write me
I am in the midst of writing my seventh and eighth musical, and about to start a ninth. I’ve been writing for thirty years (because I was a mere babe when I started) and probably have over 500 tunes, though I have definitely lost count. There are many from teenage years, full of fiest and fury, then from early adulthood packed with hurt and heartbreak. Once I got that all out of my system, I started writing the real stuff. I have a dozen notebooks from various eras of my life, brimming with songs that will not (and should not, let’s face it) see the light of day. I have put in my ten thousand hours, and now, finally, I feel like I am doing the work. Among what sometimes feels like a million other things, I am a songwriter. It is what I do and so, it is who I am.
When I am in Q & A sessions about a new work, people often ask: which comes first — the music or the lyrics. And the answer I always attempt to explain is that they come simultaneously, but it feels like a cheapened version of a response, one I’ve always hoped to deepen. In truth: songwriting is a strange foreign language that is difficult to express, but I’d like to try.
Sometimes a thought will come, an image, a phrase; sometimes I start by fiddling at the piano with chord progressions and just playing to…
