Bit Backwards

I have romantic notions about how a song comes into existence. Perhaps the composer draws from the simplicity of childhood, the pain of the teenage years, the angst of a friend, the joy of a monumental success. Picking up a guitar, words flow out of her like warm honey and spill onto the page of a parchment journal. A melody descends from the sky, cloaking the meaningful stanzas in simple elegance. A song is born; divine.

My developing process of songwriting has absolutely nothing in common with this hypothetical approach. I trend toward a backwards approach, commencing with a musical idea or texture, humming a melody, and then frantically searching for halfway-meaningful words to accompany the musical environment.

Yesterday, I jaunted down the same old songwriting path with a bit of a twist. After laying down some sonic concepts and singing through a handful of potential melodies, my mind conjured exactly two lines of a verse; nothing more, nothing less.

Here they are:
Clock reads three; I can barely breathe.
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep.

That's it... the whole banana. A confession: I already love this song. There is melody, harmony, chordal structure, and an array of musical ideas piled into my head and stacked onto tracks in Logic. The music even echoed off the shower walls as I wailed into the shampoo microphone this morning.

None of this is negative, except that a concept for the song's direction would be a pleasant development. If I am going to reverse-engineer a complete song from this tiny seed, some concept formulation is needed first. Look for the development of this idea tomorrow - same time, same channel.