Where Songs Come From

"'It was an emergency,' he wrote,' and when dealing with emergent behavior there is nothing to do but respond. I was in the moment. And it was not the fire I imagined or dreamed of. It was the fire I got.'"

This should not have been good. I never read the "T" magazine, the "New York Times" style supplement, because it's all fluff and no substance, all pictures and no meaning. But I was intrigued by the cover, with a pic of Beck and the title "The Art of Sound."

Remember when Beck meant Jeff? Ironically, it's the English guitarist who is iconic, who will be remembered, he was getting his victory lap and then he fired his new manager Harvey Goldsmith and returned to that state he's been inhabiting for most of the past few decades, hiding in plain sight but not acknowledged. It'd be like Mozart was standing in our midst and everybody shrugged.

And the piece on Beck had my eyes glazing over. I loved "Loser," went to see him at some bowling alley where he emerged in a "Star Wars" helmet and refused to play it, but he gets way too much press for someone with so little impact. If this is pushing the envelope, we need a bigger envelope.

And there's an interview with Kendrick Lamar, but I haven't gotten there yet, because my eyes are bugging out about what Tom Waits had to say.

You have to know, back in the seventies, Mr. Waits was not an icon, just another struggling singer/songwriter looking for an audience. He was on a major label and got a push, all acts did back then, but he was just part of the firmament, he did not live on the mountaintop as he does today. That's what longevity will give you. Not only inspiration and a muse, not only the audience catching up with you, but a spot where you feel comfortable in your art like an old pair of moccasins and you can stretch without worrying and your competitors have given up and gotten real jobs.

Now I met Tom once, when he was still living at the Tropicana, when he said he kept his tools in his fridge, remember when artists had a sense of humor, that's one reason Van Halen succeeded, David Lee Roth's cheekiness, and I'd be lying if I said Tom was real friendly, but this was just another drunken after hours conversation at the Troubadour, when he was recognized by the people there and not too many more and now Tom's a legend.

So, if we go back to the quote above, it turns out Tom was trying to avoid the draft by becoming a fireman. We were all confronted with that possibility, having our ass shot off, our lives interrupted, maybe ended, and all our choices were not proud ones, but we had to escape the horror. And Tom tells a story of a chicken farm in flames and that's the emergency he's referring to above, putting out the fire, dousing the flying chickens with water. And there you have inspiration right there.

That's what art is all about. Being inspired, catching lightning in a bottle, in reaction to some stimulus.

That's why today's popular music is so rotten. It's written in the laboratory in search of dollars as opposed to being composed out in the meadow in search of truth. When you get twenty people together in the studio, build a track over time, you get something that may work on the hit parade, but it rarely touches your soul.

And writing songs is not about creating a hit.

"If you want to catch songs you gotta start thinking like one, and making yourself an interesting place for them to land like birds or insects. Once you get two or three tunes together, wherever three or more are gathered, then others come. It's like a line for a hot dog place, you know? And when there's four people lined up on the sidewalk, some people will stop and get in line just 'cause there's a line."

It's about getting in the right space and catching a fire. Putting yourself in a mood, sitting at the piano as Waits does, taking a shower, and seeing what comes. And when it does come, letting the roll continue.

Any artist will tell you that. You've got to get the pump primed. And once it is, you'll be stunned what comes out. Oftentimes the second is better than the first, even the third. And you're so deep into it you're not really sure, it's a trance. And even if nothing commercial results you've been on a satisfying trip, you've got a smile on your face.

Art has been denigrated in our society. We pay fealty to false gods, but nurturing the creative process is dead. Not only is there no music in schools, we're inundated with charts and awards, as if either reflected quality. Arts are not sports. There is no clear winner or loser. It's about creating something that touches people. And unlike sports, arts when done right are not evanescent. Artworks sit in the agora waiting to be discovered years, sometimes decades down the road. They're time bombs just waiting to go off. And oftentimes they're hiding in plain sight before they become hits. Waiting for the public and the gatekeepers to feel comfortable pushing the button, waiting for word to spread.

So I know you don't want to be an artist. My inbox tells me that.

You want to be a businessman. You complain about Spotify and making a living not knowing that that isn't the life of an artist. An artist, as Tom Waits said above, is someone who responds to stimuli, who can't help but get it all down, not knowing the end result, but confident this is what they were put on Earth to do.

http://nyti.ms/2mf8SF5


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