Using Synth V for Songwriting #2: Painting Better Melodies

[Reid Rosefelt]

I’ve always wanted to be able to write better melodies, and Synthesizer V has helped me more than any other piece of software.

While I could have seen the shape of my melodies if I wrote them as notes on a staff, or as MIDI notes in a DAW, I never did. I just sang them. Recently, I compared some of my old melodies with the ones I loved—the catchy, hummable and memorable ones, The difference was obvious. The great melodies moved all over the scale, up and down like a snake. There were leaps, from one note to a much higher one. Some-WHERE over the rainbow. Take ON ME, etc. There’s a book called “Switched on Pop” that has a chapter that reduces all of Taylor Swift’s melodic writing to a formula the authors call the “t-drop,” descending a short distance, and then descending a BIG distance.” I think this is ridiculous, but it is undeniable that Swift’s songs are brimming with vocal leaps and, IMHO, this is what makes them so catchy.

There was very little dynamic movement like that in my melodies. No interval leaps at all. Why was that?

I decided it was mainly because I wrote my songs while singing them, playing my guitar. Right off the bat, I was limited to my paltry vocal range, which is in the typical octave and a half-- if I’m in the right key. Notice how nobody sues Elton John and says, “I wrote ‘Tiny Dancer”--not you.” Right. Go ahead and sing it if you wrote it, Mr. Bigstuff. I’ve studied my favorite Brian Wilson songs. As everybody knows, he goes way up there, and this, IMHO, allows him to create the kind of leaps that tug at your heartstrings.

I’ve also come to believe that singing to a guitar progression sometimes held me back. If you have a fun guitar progression with a lot of movement, you can sing a few notes over it, and it still sounds like something is happening. The not-very-exciting melody interacts with the chords to create contrast and musical energy. The combination works, I think, in a way not unlike the way a pedal does on a Bach fugue.

Synth V has solved all of these problems for me. There is no longer any issue of vocal range. I’m currently working on an album where I’m hiring a lot of singers. I can write as many octaves as I want—I only need to hire a singer who can handle them. Not only can I write these notes, I can also hear what it sounds like when a “singer” sings them. This is very freeing.

Synth V enables me to write like a singer. I can incorporate all the tricks singers use like into my compositions before they go out to the singers. I have a song where one word steps down five notes. With Synth V, you are a contestant on American Idol. You can do runs and falls and melisma. Anything you can think of. The great part is that when I send these guide tracks to real singers, they take my melodies even further.

After I put my melodies into Synth V, I have a clear visual display of their shape. Does it have a lot of up-and-down movement? Are there a few leaps? Rhythmic interest? None of the above? What I put into Synth V is just a first draft. The actual work begins when I start experimenting, painting my melody, shoving it around like clay. Does this line sound better if I take it up rather than down? How about up and down? Or down and up? The scale is my friend. My only enemy is stasis, going nowhere. And I never quit. The melodies are the same as my lyrics. I keep trying to improve them.

After I am happy with my first verse, problems can come up with a later verse. While a line in verse two might have the right amount of syllables, it sounds weird when I put the lyrics into Synth V. I have found that when everything is perfect with a lyric and melody, it goes into Synth V very quickly, with no hassle. But sometimes there is something that is discordant. Sometimes it's just bad pronunciation, but just as often it's because the accent is on the wrong syllable. It's pronounced fine, but it still sounds off. And I work and work on these little things, until I stop and try changing the notes. In every case that solves the problem. For some unknown reason, the second syllable in a particular word needs to be lower. (I do think this is the kind of shift good singers do instinctively, but synth vocalists don't know how to)

One thing that happens often in modern pop music is that they have a lot more melodies, a lot more sections. But it’s not necessary to write more sections to create more melodic interest. I have a song called “The Naked Truth,” that only has two sections and an outro, as far as the accompaniment goes. But the A-part and B-part are all sung different ways as the song progresses. I don’t have the words to call what each verse-with-a-new-melody is, I just work to create a flow from the first note to the last in the outro. “The Naked Truth” is a very old song. I started writing it in 1984. I’ve been working on improving the lyrics over the years, but it was only finished when I put it into Synth V and transformed the melody. I should mention that I took a song I’d been singing for decades and turned it into a song that I couldn't sing to save my life.

I am certain that all my best melodies have been written since I got Synth V. And I have a process that serves me on every new song.

 

[David Cuny]

As you've said, the temptation while singing to a guitar or piano is to stick with a comfortable range. That's not necessarily bad, but it is limiting.

When creating melodies at the piano, the tendency is to go with muscle memory, and use patterns that lie under the fingers. It also results in a more pianistic melody.

When creating melodies in SynthV, I find I have the opposite problem as you. My melodies have too many chordal outlines and skips. So I'll go back through a melody after I've created it, and ask "Can this be simplified?", and the answer is almost always "Yes!"

Being able to see the melodic curve also means I can see if the melody has too many or too few repeating elements. This is especially helpful in making sure my chorus doesn't sound like the verse.

On my last song, the chorus sounded like a verse, not a chorus. I took a break and listened to some songs to remind myself what a chorus should sound like. Then I dragged the existing chorus past the end of the song (so I'd have a copy if I wanted), and drew in a new one. I adjusted notes until it worked. Easy peasy, problem solved.

I usually write the lyrics after I've created a backing track and melody. Writing lyrics is the hardest part of songwriting for me anyway, but doing it this way helps ensure that the end result will be musical.

I'll give myself a fair amount of flexibility on adjusting the duration and pitch of notes when adding lyrics. My focus is on intelligibility and naturalness. It's really helpful to hear right away if the lyric "works."

I find that I write to the singer, and what works for that singer. The reality is that if someone else were to sing it, they'd "make it their own" anyway. Not that anyone is clamoring to sing any of my songs.

I've had to adjust keys, because AI or not, the limitations of the actual singer are there in the SynthV version. But that's not really a problem. It helps make sure that I don't keep the singer on excessively high notes, and instead use them more sparingly where they really count.

One of the things I like best about using SynthV is that it allows me to focus on the song, and not my voice and its limitations. The question changes from "Do I sound good?" to "Does the song sound good?"

And that detatchment and decoupling from my own vocal skill makes it a lot easier to go in and fix the melody when there are issues.

 

[Wykilla]

This is super interesting — especially the part about lyrics that technically fit but still sound “off”.

I’ve been running into exactly that problem:
even when syllables match, something in the rhythm or stress just feels wrong, and then you end up tweaking notes, lyrics, pronunciation… over and over.

Out of curiosity:
how long does it usually take you to get a line to feel “right”?

For me that iteration loop can get pretty time-consuming.

 

[David Cuny]

Out of curiosity:
how long does it usually take you to get a line to feel “right”?

Unfortunately, there are two parts to this: getting the line to scan, and getting the line to say the right thing.

Getting the line to scan is usually a matter of making sure the strong syllable (usually the first) lands on the strong beat. So for example, if you put "somewhere" on a weak beat, that's going to place the second syllable ("where") on a strong beat and sound wrong.

So - for me - badly placed stress is easy to hear. Fixing it can be as simply as making a prior note longer, pushing the stress on the following note to the next beat.

That make is a pretty mechanical exercise.

Now, getting the right words, that's a different problem altogether.

 

[Wykilla]

Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

The stress/scan part is actually the easier one once you hear it — like you said, it becomes almost mechanical after a while.

What I’ve noticed though is that the real time sink is the combination of both:
you try to adjust the phrasing to fix the stress, which then changes how the line feels, which then makes you question the words again… and you end up going in circles.

That loop is what I find really hard to break.

 

[Reid Rosefelt]

@Wykilla @David Cuny

The only thing that works for me is to keep trying. I consider the words and notes in Synth V to be clay to be pounded and molded into a song. I output every day to my phone and walk around listening to it a dozen or more times. When I'm at the early stages, it's painful to listen to these crap versions of my songs. But what I'm trying to judge is the overall vibe. Is this idea good enough to keep working on or should I discard it and start over? But once I commit, some lines are keepers from the beginning, some are close, and some are just wrong. But I come home each day and try again. It just goes on and on until I can walk around with my headphones and like everything.

In addition to what @David Cuny said, I find that some words or sentences only work when I change the melody. There's a natural melodic flow to language that I have to listen to.

Also, there's the issue of time. In one song, there was something important I was trying to express. A central part of what the song was all about. I tried it countless ways over many weeks, but it was hard for me to do it in the few syllables I had given myself. Looking at the rhyming dictionary, thesaurus, trying every idea I could think of. I'd put them all in my phone and they all made me puke. Eventually it occurred to me that maybe these few syllables were not enough for me to figure out how to express the thought. So I went back and rewrote the song so I had more words to work with. At this point, I quickly got not just a line that I accepted, but the best line in the song. (Of course I also lost some other stuff I liked in the old version.) To me, this is how I work with Synth V--composing notes and lyrics at the same time. I love hearing how a word sounds when you move it from F# to G.

In answer to your question about how long it takes me--usually about two months, including the arrangement. I keep revising the lyrics and melody while I work on everything else.

 

[Wykilla]

Hi,

I really enjoyed reading your post.

The idea of treating words and notes like clay really resonated with me. That daily cycle of listening, adjusting, throwing things away, and trying again — I can relate to that a lot.

My process is a bit different:
I usually focus on the melody first and spend quite a bit of time on it until it really feels right. I often listen to it repeatedly in the car and notice small things I want to adjust.
Only once I feel the melody is “locked in” do I start writing lyrics for it.

But the real struggle after that is very similar:
Finding the right words, making them fit rhythmically, building rhymes, and still keeping it natural — that’s always a challenge.

That’s why I found it interesting how you describe lyrics and melody influencing each other. Even if the approach is different, the core process seems very similar.

I’m curious:
When you come back to the same song every day, how do you tell if you’re actually moving forward rather than just going in circles?

And do you ever have a clear moment where you decide “this is finished”, or does it slowly evolve into that?

Really inspiring way of working.

Best,
Rainer

 

[BDT]

My process is a bit different:
I usually focus on the melody first and spend quite a bit of time on it until it really feels right. I often listen to it repeatedly in the car and notice small things I want to adjust.
Only once I feel the melody is “locked in” do I start writing lyrics for it.

But the real struggle after that is very similar:
Finding the right words, making them fit rhythmically, building rhymes, and still keeping it natural — that’s always a challenge.

When I started writing songs with lyrics about three years ago, I began with the melodies (which come easily to me) and tried to find lyrics that fit the melody.
I couldn't think of any other way to write a song.
I liked it that way.

Then I wrote my first cover song.
Means, the lyrics were already there.
And I've found that having the lyrics first gives you more freedom when writing them, and that you end up with better lyrics.
But my biggest surprise was that it’s much easier and more efficient to write melodies and chords to go with lyrics than the other way around - at least if you have something to say.

Of course, this works for me, but it might not work for everyone else - though it might be worth thinking about.

I’m curious:
When you come back to the same song every day, how do you tell if you’re actually moving forward rather than just going in circles?

And do you ever have a clear moment where you decide “this is finished”, or does it slowly evolve into that?

No song, no mix, and no work of art in general is "perfect", and it shouldn’t be.
I know a song is finished when nothing annoys me anymore.
Could it be better?
Sure.
Could it be done differently in a gazillion ways?
You bet!
Will I still find flaws months after release?
Yep.
But when I listen to my song in the car, and nothing _really_ annoys me anymore, I move on and don't look back.

Three years later, I now cringe listening to some songs I wrote back then because they just suck - with weak lyrics, poor melodies, and an amateurish mix.
But that's just how I was back then.

In three years, I’ll probably want to slap myself when I listen to the brilliant songs I think I’m writing today, because they’re still crap - just on a higher level.
Life goes on...

What I want to say is, even the worst music that gets released is still better than no music at all, and may find an audience, no matter how small, who likes it.

 

[Reid Rosefelt]

The idea of treating words and notes like clay really resonated with me. That daily cycle of listening, adjusting, throwing things away, and trying again — I can relate to that a lot.

My process is a bit different:
I usually focus on the melody first and spend quite a bit of time on it until it really feels right. I often listen to it repeatedly in the car and notice small things I want to adjust.
Only once I feel the melody is “locked in” do I start writing lyrics for it.

But the real struggle after that is very similar:
Finding the right words, making them fit rhythmically, building rhymes, and still keeping it natural — that’s always a challenge.

Rainer

In my opinion, every way that people write songs is equally good. Whatever works. But I have to write the lyrics and melody together. Both of them creep forward one day at a time in tandem.

For example, I'm working on a song now. There was one line in the verses where the melody and lyrics on each was clumsy. That was okay, because I was only in my third pass. I decided the reason I couldn't get a melody I liked was the chords. After I changed the chords in my BIAB temp track I improvised a much more satisfactory melody for that line in all the verses. Definitely improved. But not necessarily the melody and lyrics I will keep. I'll keep experimenting. I really love my chorus and my bridge, so the verses need to be on that level. On the other hand, large melodic leaps make my chorus and bridge catchy and unusual, but maybe it's good to have the verses a little less leapy so there's contrast.

As I said, I output a file at the end of every workday. But what I didn't say is that I then type in a new version of the lyrics. And I work on a new set of lyric revisions on my laptop, away from my music computer. It's a different part of my brain and I'm working with various rhyming dictionaries, regular dictionaries, thesaurusi, and even (I'm not ashamed to admit it) AI. Looking for inspiration anywhere and new rhyme schemes, to help me tell the story I want to tell. When I'm done I print that out and head back to my computer and Synth V. I try to replace the old lyrics in Synth V. If they don't fit I'll have to change the lyrics or maybe add or remove a note in Synth V. If I can't make it work, I'll leave what's there. There's always another day at the laptop to try again.

I’m curious:
When you come back to the same song every day, how do you tell if you’re actually moving forward rather than just going in circles?

I always feel like I'm moving forward, but that doesn't mean that now and then I don't go back to an earlier version.

And do you ever have a clear moment where you decide “this is finished”, or does it slowly evolve into that?

I hire singers and a mixer, and that costs real money. I'm not rich, so I have to believe the song is the best that I can do before I move to those next pricey steps.

On the other hand, I have a song that I wrote for my EP that went to a final a few months ago. Recently, I came up with an idea for how to improve it in a big way. Sometimes it takes time to realize things like that, after listening to the track many times. But of course, I will use the parts of the song that stay the same, and the same singer will sing the new parts.

 

[Mike Greene]

But my biggest surprise was that it’s much easier and more efficient to write melodies and chords to go with lyrics than the other way around - at least if you have something to say.

That describes me, too. I can't think of a time where I started with a melody and the lyric coming second. I've started many time with a track, mind you, but for whatever reason, I either do the lyric first, or better yet, both lyric and melody come at the same time.

With that said, I'm a terrible lyricist, so that's undoubtedly a factor. (That's not false modesty, it's simply fact.) So while I can come up with lyric ideas as things in life are happening to me (examples of songs I've written: "I'm Not Gonna Go to School Today" or "Parker Ranch" which I jokingly wrote as my wife and I were driving through ... Parker Ranch), I'll be damned if anything comes to me while I'm listening to some melody I wrote.

 

[Nekujak]

There are sooooo many different approaches to songwriting. I think everyone's process is as individual and unique as fingerprints.

I always enjoy reading/hearing about how other writers, especially the songwriting legends who walk among us, approach their craft. It's all over the map - everyone does it differently.

John Denver said it took him 9 months to finish "Rocky Mountain High", as the song took shape gradually in stages, but "Annie's Song" came to him all at once in 10 minutes on a ski lift.

Paul Simon noodles on guitar and hums melodies with nonsense syllables until something sticks, and then applies lyrics afterwards, trying to follow the sounds of the nonsense syllables.

Leonard Cohen wrote reams of lyrics, finely crafting each phrase, and only later put them to music.

Donald Fagen obsessively crafted songs measure by measure, literally. I once spoke with Roger Nichols, Steely Dan's engineer - he said in the middle of working on the "Aja" album, he needed to leave for a week to record a live show in Paris. When he returned to the studio, Fagen had only progressed another 2 measures on the same song he was working on when Nichols left! He said it was like this for the entire album

Elton John and Bernie Taupin were never in the same room together. Bernie would throw lyrics over the wall to Elton, who would work alone putting them to music.

Peter Jackson's revitalized version of the "Let It Be" movie offers a wonderful glimpse into the Beatles' process, which seems loose, inspired, and totally in the moment.

For the "Exile on Main St." album, the Rolling Stones had recorded countless hours of jams and improvised songs, but they didn't have any actual finished songs for the album. So Mick and Keith sequestered themselves in a motel room for several days. They cut up words from magazines and newspapers, mixed them up in a big pile on the floor, and started cobbling together lyrics and melodies to go with the recorded instrumentals.

One of my favorite songwriting tales is from the "History of the Eagles" documentary, in which Glenn Frey describes his early days in LA, when he lived upstairs from Jackson Browne. Every morning, he'd hear Browne on the piano, through the floor, working on a song. The process would only be interrupted by the tea kettle whistling, and then Browne would be back at it. After a while it drove Frey a little crazy, because Browne would work and rework the same part of a song over and over again for several weeks, and when he was finally satisfied, he'd move on to the next part of the song, and the process would repeat. Frey said, it was a great experience because it taught him what songwriting was all about, and how to be a songwriter.

And in the rap world, while melody is seldom a consideration, the construction and meaning of the lyrics is of paramount importance. Eminem is known to meticulously pore over every word, paying strict attention to the cadence, emphasis, meaning, rhythm, and sound of each line.


So as long as your song conveys the message and feeling you intended, or at least that you're happy with (sometimes songs go to different places than we originally intended, but the result is still a good one), then whatever process got you there is the right one

 

[Cyberic]

Interesting: Paul McCartney’s dad Jim wrote (or co-wrote depending upon who you believe) “Walking In The Park With Eloise” which was recorded and released as a single by The Country Hams.

From Paul himself: He wouldn’t ever admit he’d ‘written’ it. He said it was just a piece he played on the piano that he’d ‘made up’. And I said, ‘Well, we call that writing these days!’ I think he meant that he didn’t physically write something out in notation.

——————————————————

Bob Dylan once said to Roger McGuinn, “Songwriting’s easy. You write 12 songs a day and throw 11 away.”

 

[Louie]

I’m not a synth V user, but like @Nekujak said, it is fascinating to me how different songwriters/composers come up with and refine their melodies. Not only how they create them from scratch, but how they evaluate their melodies is equally interesting: what is a keeper, and what get’s tossed out? John Williams would talk about how he would spend most of his time working on this themes until they seemed inevitable.

Sort of opposite of the "watch maker” meticulously crafting a melody, is Willie Nelson. I remember reading in an interview that Willie’s way of deciding what to keep is simple--he only keeps what sticks in his head.

“I have a theory, if you can’t remember em’, then they probably ain’t that good”.

And he is one of the writers who first writes the lyrics, and then the melodies follow naturally.
Whether the lyrics come first or follow the melody, or a back and forth during the process of writing, does’t seem all that consequential to me as long as the end result is satisfying. But the theory of just pursing what sticks in your head as a self editing tool might have some merit, as it is a way of letting the ideas sort themselves out. And no need to carry a notebook around, or rush back to the studio before forgetting the next flash of brilliance. At the same time--feels a little brutal/extreme.

 

[Nekujak]

Sort of opposite of the "watch maker” meticulously crafting a melody, is Willie Nelson. I remember reading in an interview that Willie’s way of deciding what to keep is simple--he only keeps what sticks in his head.

I am in no way comparing myself to Willie, and wasn't aware this was his approach, but it happens to also be my own personal songwriting philosophy. I've always believed if something doesn't "stick" in my head, or in my soul to be a bit more dramatic, then it's not worth pursuing.

Every time I've tried to "force" a song into existence, the results were unsatisfying, sounded contrived, and were totally unmemorable. But in those magical moments when a song "pours" through you, it feels like it binds with your being and becomes a part of you. You can never forget it. Those are the keepers.

That's why there's such a big difference, at least for me, when writing for pure creative self expression versus writing for commercial purposes. With the latter, it's merely a mechanical exercise designed to satisfy a specific goal, but it exists outside of me and seldom has any personal "sticking" power... which is as it should be.

 

[BDT]

Willie’s way of deciding what to keep is simple--he only keeps what sticks in his head.

That's how I do it, but I heard it in an interview with Paul McCartney.
When I take my dog for a walk in the nearby woods, I sing melodies to the lyrics I can remember.
I’ll keep the lyrics that I remember [1], the rest will be revised.
Melodies come easily to me and I don't forget them, because I have something like a photographic memory for music.

[1] That applies when I write catchy pop music.
Other lyrics, which sometimes don’t contain a single rhyme, are treated differently, since they’re always much harder to remember.
Try to remember THAT :

 

[Wykilla]

Hi BDT,

that shift you describe — from melody-first to lyric-first — really resonated with me.

What stood out most wasn't the workflow change itself, but your "nothing annoys me anymore" finish line. That feels way more practical than chasing something abstract like "perfect".

I've been running into a slightly different version of the same problem: when I lock the melody first, I often end up solving phrasing puzzles instead of actually saying what I mean. It starts to feel like I'm optimizing syllables, not ideas.

Your "annoyance threshold" idea clicked for me because it's one of the few signals in this process that actually pushes back. If the same 1–2 seconds keep bothering me after repeated listens, that's probably the real problem — not everything else I keep tweaking.

One thing I'm curious about: over time, has that threshold become stricter for you, or have you gotten better at letting things go? I can imagine both happening.

 

[Wykilla]

Hi Reid,

the image of lyrics and melody "creeping forward in tandem" really stuck with me.

What hit me even more was the way you switch environments — music computer vs. laptop, Synth V vs. text work. That feels less like a workflow trick and more like forcing two different modes of thinking onto the same song, so they can correct each other.

I've noticed I tend to do everything in one place, and that's probably where part of the "going in circles" comes from. I start tweaking melody when I should be fixing a line, or rewriting words when I should just be listening. Everything starts to blur.

Your point about verses not needing to compete with chorus and bridge, but instead creating contrast, was also a really useful reframe for me. Treating "less interesting" as intentional instead of a problem changes how I listen to it.

The money angle is interesting too — using real costs as a kind of commitment device. But at the same time you mentioned going back and reopening a track when a better idea shows up.

How do you personally tell the difference between a real late-stage improvement and just another round of second-guessing? Is there a moment or feeling you've learned to trust?

 

[BDT]

One thing I'm curious about: over time, has that threshold become stricter for you, or have you gotten better at letting things go? I can imagine both happening.

I’d say "proportionally equal" best describes my progress.
When you improve in both lyrics and music, it automatically means you’re more attuned to problems; therefore, the bar for "doesn’t annoy me" is set higher on one hand.
On the other hand, "improving" means you need less time to achieve decent results.

Ultimately, the time per song hasn't changed much, but I think my results are improving.

Oh, and one more thing that really helps: Most songwriters believe their latest song is (or has to be) better than the last song they’ve written before.
That’s a trap.
Accepting that your new song might be good, but not as good as your last one, really helps you let go.
No one can write songs that are always better than the last one.
Not even the Beatles could do that, so who am I to strive for that?

 

[Reid Rosefelt]

What hit me even more was the way you switch environments — music computer vs. laptop, Synth V vs. text work. That feels less like a workflow trick and more like forcing two different modes of thinking onto the same song, so they can correct each other.

I recently watched the video of John Cleese's speech on Creativity in Management. But it crystalized a lot of what I've come up with on my own. He starts by saying there was a guy in Monty Python who was much more imaginative than himself, but somehow he was able to do better work. So why? He talks about two modes of work. The first is "open," where you let your mind freely play. The second is "closed," is where you go back over the material you've generated with a more distanted and critical perspective. This is what his more creative Monty Python friend didn't do. He didn't stick with his ideas and make them better.




This idea has been expressed many times before in various ways. Silent film actress Louise Brooks (subject of one of my songs) extended an old cliche when she quipped, "Writing is one percent inspiration, and 99 percent elimination."

When I work on my computer with Synth V, I try to be completely free with my melodies. I have only two goals: I want my melodies to go up and down the scales, and I want melodic leaps. That's it. After that, it's just instinct--what sounds right to me in the moment, what serves the lyrics. I grab notes and pull them up and down, every whichaway, and if I settle on something that doesn't cause me too much pain, I output a copy.

Recently I began work on a bridge for a song that had the traditional eight bars, but three phrases, like a joke with a third part payoff. (I'm a big believer in threes with song construction.)

I walked in the park with the first output. Getting out of my apartment to a beautiful place gives me a combination of "closed" thinkingwith a bit of play, like the ideas that come in the shower. Part one of my bridge was awful, part two was decent, and part three was one of the best things in the song--a really good melody that pulled you into the chorus. So I went back to the computer and I thought, maybe make the first two parts more boring, so the third would shine even more. A walk in the park said that I had made the thing worse. In Synth V the next day I improved part two and took another shot at part one. Another walk in the park made me see that part one still sucked. It took many passes before I accepted the whole bridge. It was easy to play around with because I wasn't stressed. I knew I liked the lyrics to the bridge and that the melodic payoff to the bridge was solid. All I had to do was keep trying. Eventually I would conquer it by pounding away, process of elimination.

My computer is where I actually have to work on new lyrics, with my various rhyming dictionaries and other tools. That's basically "closed" work. And the music computer I fool around with new musical ideas. Even though it's revisions, it's still "open." There's never any pressure to get anything "right." Just something new, that will either be a step forward or a step backward. I'll find out in the park.

Walking a few days ago, I got the idea to put in a glockenspiel in some spots. Finally got something out of buying Musio! When I put it in, I wasn't sure if it was going to work. But in the park it sounded great! We'll see. I'm telling you about something that happened yesterday. Work proceeds.

 

[Reid Rosefelt]

Oh, and one more thing that really helps: Most songwriters believe their latest song is (or has to be) better than the last song they’ve written before.
That’s a trap.
Accepting that your new song might be good, but not as good as your last one, really helps you let go.
No one can write songs that are always better than the last one.
Not even the Beatles could do that, so who am I to strive for that?

I don't believe that my newest song has to be better, but the reality is that, since I started bearing down and spending months polishing songs, I learn dozens of lessons from writing each one. Mistakes I don't want to repeat. New approaches. New ideas that I elaborate. I have become more sophisticated in so many ways. I'm finding out what kind of songwriter I want to be.

How was my guitar playing when I played in bands in my teens versus when I first picked one up at twelve? You get better at things when you work hard at them and try to do your best.

I'm not delusional. I realize that probably nobody will like any of my songs. As an amateur, I am writing for an audience of one. But my songs are pleasing me more as I go along. I don't feel any pressure at all. It's just what I am naturally experiencing.

I wrote and directed a few short films. They were bad and I was going broke so I stopped. But I read a quote from Richard Linklater saying that every director has six or seven bad films in them that they have to get out of their system. I often wonder what would have happened if I started making my bad films in my twenties and kept at it. I learned painful lessons on each one.