Reid Rosefelt
Well-known member
I know everybody is going to think I am insane, and maybe I am, but I’ve recently started writing essays about the songs I want to write. I write about what I hope and want them to be. I am not saying this is anything that anybody else should ever do. I’m not even saying that I should or will do it in the future. I’m just saying that I’ve been doing it for a specific cycle of songs I’m working on and it’s been very helpful
Anyway, what I’m finding is that I learn things from these essays. My mind considers things and discards what I don’t like. It’s a free place to experiment. I’m in a conversation with myself. A pathway of discovery.
And when I get somewhere with an essay, I start to think about structure. “How can I tell this story. What’s in verse one, two, and three? How does the song get from point A to point Z? Where’s the resting place? How does it get to a satisfactory conclusion?”
I should say that I’m writing these essays for songs in a five-song EP that is all songs about five real women. This uses a different part of my brain. It’s not like years ago, when my girlfriend left me and I reached for my guitar to deal with what I’m feeling. This is “I’m making a commitment to myself that I will write a song about so-and-so and I won’t give up until it’s done and I’m proud of it.”
The reason I decided to make myself write these essays is that, on this project, I have written long sections of songs that I’ve thrown out. Because I would fall in love with parts of the stories of these women, and want to put those parts in the song. Weeks of time working on the lyrics and rhymes and melodies, trying to get them just right, and then at one point I just say, “No, the song would be better without this.” The reason for that is that I just jumped into the song without thinking about where I wanted to go. I’d write a chorus, and then a verse, and just go on from there.
So, for example, one song is about the silent film actress Louise Brooks. There’s a 650-page book about her. I had to read the damned thing. She wrote a book herself, called “Lulu in Hollywood.” There are two documentaries on her. I had to watch her films. And a ton more stuff. I had to learn 1% of what real Louise Brooks fans know to shape what I wanted to put into my three-and-a-half-minute song. And I wanted the song to be her telling her story directly to the listener. I started with an essay on this one.
Brooks started writing articles for film magazines when she was in her 50s through her 70s. As I wanted to make the song in her voice, I didn’t know how she talked until then, so I decided that I would set the song at the end of her life, in the 1980s, when she was in her seventies, living in Rochester, New York. (I had corresponded with her then and made a YouTube video about it, but that’s not part of this song.) Her best-selling book was “Lulu in Hollywood,” and one of the documentaries was “Lulu in Berlin.” So I decided my song would be “Lulu in Rochester.” FYI, Lulu is the name of her best-known screen character in the G.W. Pabst's silent film "Pandora's Box."
The song was going to be in her voice, but I didn’t want to set a lot of her famous quotes to music. I decided I would use only one quote and that the rest of the song would be me trying to imitate the way she wrote. And on and on and on and on. I thought about all these things.
I did all this thinking about my dream for the song before I did any songwriting. After I wrote my essay, I put it away and didn’t look at it. I just went to work. And the song flowed from there and I can honestly say it never went off track.
Yesterday I had coffee with a friend of mine who is a photographer. And she used to write essays for her gallery shows. So she would know what she was trying to do with a series of her photos on the walls. And I realized that I hadn’t written an essay about the album. I think about this damned album all the time, but I haven’t put my thoughts in writing. So many things link the women. All the women were known by the public, from moderately well known to a real following. All were involved in photos or cinema. They were known chiefly for images. Many have cult followings today. All of them had suffered some form of abuse at the hands of men. They are all dead, but some of them died way too soon, and some made it to a ripe old age, but hid away as recluses, not wanting the world to see them old. This stuff is racing through my head all the time, but I never sat down to take all these threads in my mind and write them down. And I’m going to. Because there is still time to tie some of the ribbons of this project together before anybody hears any of the songs. I've written all five songs, but there is still time to revise them.
I want my songs to be capable of being enjoyed by people who don’t care about the real women. They have to work as songs for anybody. Sure “Not a String on His Guitar” is literally about having Bob Dylan as a boyfriend, but it could also be about anybody who feels a bit overshadowed by another person in their life. That’s not an uncommon feeling. And also any woman who is struggling with putting up with the shit that the boyfriend they truly love is putting them through could relate to this song. The songs have to work on their own.
At the same time, my project is one composite object, along with the many videos I plan to make about it. It begins with 9-year-old Tura Satana and ends with Louise Brooks in her bed, waiting for death to come fetch her. If there is one person who feels like experiencing it that way, then it could be that for them. Or even if nobody does, that’s what it is for me.
Anyway, what I’m finding is that I learn things from these essays. My mind considers things and discards what I don’t like. It’s a free place to experiment. I’m in a conversation with myself. A pathway of discovery.
And when I get somewhere with an essay, I start to think about structure. “How can I tell this story. What’s in verse one, two, and three? How does the song get from point A to point Z? Where’s the resting place? How does it get to a satisfactory conclusion?”
I should say that I’m writing these essays for songs in a five-song EP that is all songs about five real women. This uses a different part of my brain. It’s not like years ago, when my girlfriend left me and I reached for my guitar to deal with what I’m feeling. This is “I’m making a commitment to myself that I will write a song about so-and-so and I won’t give up until it’s done and I’m proud of it.”
The reason I decided to make myself write these essays is that, on this project, I have written long sections of songs that I’ve thrown out. Because I would fall in love with parts of the stories of these women, and want to put those parts in the song. Weeks of time working on the lyrics and rhymes and melodies, trying to get them just right, and then at one point I just say, “No, the song would be better without this.” The reason for that is that I just jumped into the song without thinking about where I wanted to go. I’d write a chorus, and then a verse, and just go on from there.
So, for example, one song is about the silent film actress Louise Brooks. There’s a 650-page book about her. I had to read the damned thing. She wrote a book herself, called “Lulu in Hollywood.” There are two documentaries on her. I had to watch her films. And a ton more stuff. I had to learn 1% of what real Louise Brooks fans know to shape what I wanted to put into my three-and-a-half-minute song. And I wanted the song to be her telling her story directly to the listener. I started with an essay on this one.
Brooks started writing articles for film magazines when she was in her 50s through her 70s. As I wanted to make the song in her voice, I didn’t know how she talked until then, so I decided that I would set the song at the end of her life, in the 1980s, when she was in her seventies, living in Rochester, New York. (I had corresponded with her then and made a YouTube video about it, but that’s not part of this song.) Her best-selling book was “Lulu in Hollywood,” and one of the documentaries was “Lulu in Berlin.” So I decided my song would be “Lulu in Rochester.” FYI, Lulu is the name of her best-known screen character in the G.W. Pabst's silent film "Pandora's Box."
The song was going to be in her voice, but I didn’t want to set a lot of her famous quotes to music. I decided I would use only one quote and that the rest of the song would be me trying to imitate the way she wrote. And on and on and on and on. I thought about all these things.
I did all this thinking about my dream for the song before I did any songwriting. After I wrote my essay, I put it away and didn’t look at it. I just went to work. And the song flowed from there and I can honestly say it never went off track.
Yesterday I had coffee with a friend of mine who is a photographer. And she used to write essays for her gallery shows. So she would know what she was trying to do with a series of her photos on the walls. And I realized that I hadn’t written an essay about the album. I think about this damned album all the time, but I haven’t put my thoughts in writing. So many things link the women. All the women were known by the public, from moderately well known to a real following. All were involved in photos or cinema. They were known chiefly for images. Many have cult followings today. All of them had suffered some form of abuse at the hands of men. They are all dead, but some of them died way too soon, and some made it to a ripe old age, but hid away as recluses, not wanting the world to see them old. This stuff is racing through my head all the time, but I never sat down to take all these threads in my mind and write them down. And I’m going to. Because there is still time to tie some of the ribbons of this project together before anybody hears any of the songs. I've written all five songs, but there is still time to revise them.
I want my songs to be capable of being enjoyed by people who don’t care about the real women. They have to work as songs for anybody. Sure “Not a String on His Guitar” is literally about having Bob Dylan as a boyfriend, but it could also be about anybody who feels a bit overshadowed by another person in their life. That’s not an uncommon feeling. And also any woman who is struggling with putting up with the shit that the boyfriend they truly love is putting them through could relate to this song. The songs have to work on their own.
At the same time, my project is one composite object, along with the many videos I plan to make about it. It begins with 9-year-old Tura Satana and ends with Louise Brooks in her bed, waiting for death to come fetch her. If there is one person who feels like experiencing it that way, then it could be that for them. Or even if nobody does, that’s what it is for me.
