How To Write A Perfect Pop Song

[Stackabones]

The craft is definable, but not the art.

 

 

By his own admission, Jarvis Cocker isn't the world's greatest musician. He can't read music, nor does he have any knowledge of formal composition. And, while we're on the subject, he's not a particularly gifted singer. "My mother is tone deaf," he says. Yet, alongside these apparent drawbacks to a career in music, he has an ability few possess: he writes brilliant pop songs. What makes the perfect pop song? That's the question I've been putting to British songwriters, including Cocker, for a TV series I've been making. I've talked to household names who have fallen out of critical favour (Phil Collins, Mick Hucknall); songwriters to the stars (Albert Hammond, responsible for such standards as The Air That I Breathe and When I Need You); and singers resentful of the success they had with their old bands (Hugh Cornwell, formerly of the Stranglers, who almost stormed out of our interview after one question too many about the punk years). So how do you write a classic hit? The only thing everyone agrees on is this: nobody has a bloody clue. "It helps to be in tune," says 1960s pop minstrel Donovan. "And to be able to count to four. A lot of songwriters don't know how to count to four." "I take a Dictaphone everywhere I go in case I have an idea," says David Gray, the million-selling author of Babylon. "Once you've captured an idea, the song builds up from that." For Echo and the Bunnymen's Ian McCulloch, songwriting is not a choice, but a therapeutic necessity. "When I'm not writing songs, it's cryptic crosswords and Countdown on the telly. Everything gets a bit fuzzy, a bit bleak." A pop song does, however, follow certain rules. It is generally around three to four minutes, has a verse and a chorus, and uses a bed of chords to support a melody, with words that convey some sort of sentiment that an audience can relate to. Most of the songwriters I spoke to start with a melody. But these rules only serve to get a song written in the first place. They do nothing to give it the rare magic that great pop possesses. For Cocker, the key to writing successful songs is not to aim for lofty artistic heights, but to look at what's around you. "I fell out of a window and was in hospital for a while," he says, on the formation of a technique whereby he uses local detail and observation to write songs that have the descriptive power of good fiction. "I was sitting in a convalescent ward with all these miners, and I realised that there was more material in looking down at the ground than up at the stars." Such an ethos produced Joyriders, from Pulp's 1994 album His'n'Hers. Soon after getting out of hospital, Cocker was driving outside Sheffield one night when his Hillman Imp broke down. "These kids came up in a posh car," he says. "They were only about 15 so I didn't think it was theirs. I thought I was going to get mugged, but they were very nice, driving me to the nearest station and giving me chocolate limes, which I'm sure just happened to be in the car when they nicked it." Real incidents do seem to form the seed of many classic pop songs. Just as there really was a rich Greek girl at St Martin's College, who inspired Pulp's 1995 anthem Common People, so all the international hits written by Albert Hammond come from the songwriter's own life. The son of a fireman, British-born Hammond grew up in Gibraltar but came back to London in the late 1960s to make it, supporting his young family by working at a shoe polish factory by day and washing dishes by night. He finally had a hit in 1972, with It Never Rains in Southern California - a song that had nothing to do with US weather, but rather hard times in Europe. "It was written on a piano on a rainy day in Fulham," says Hammond. "There's a line, 'Will you tell the folks back home I nearly made it/ Please don't tell them how you found me' - that was based on the time I was actually begging in Madrid. I bumped into my cousin, who was on honeymoon there, and I pleaded with him not to tell my dad about seeing me begging. But he told him anyway." But a pop song also needs a hook, a melodic idea or motif that won't let the listener go. Take the sad, lilting hook to Hammond's When I Need You, a No 1 for Leo Sayer in 1977. However crassly sentimental the song may seem, there's an emotion in the melody that digs in. "You have to have it in you," says Hammond on creating hits. "I wouldn't know where to start teaching somebody else. I can hardly play an instrument. I don't even know the names of the chords. I just know that my songs have an emotional story behind them and that comes out in the music." Actually, a lack of musical knowledge seems to help. Italian movie soundtrack maestro Ennio Morricone once said the Beatles would have been a lot better had they studied classical composition, but judging by the paucity of great pop songwriters emerging from the classical world, it seems unlikely. Mick Hucknall wrote arguably his best song, Holding Back the Years, one afternoon in his bedroom at the age of 16, when he had only learned to play two chords - E and A - on a guitar. "I lifted a finger off the A to create some other kind of chord," he says. "It sure sounded pretty and soon these words came out. The song took under an hour to write." For all Hammond's assertion that songwriting comes from within, there are cases when a cataclysmic event (a divorce, say) can spur a hitherto non-songwriting type (a drummer, perhaps) into action. Phil Collins spent close to a decade in Genesis before he started writing songs in 1978, to fill the void created by the collapse of his marriage: "My wife had gone. My two children had gone. My two dogs had gone. I had nothing to do. So I started to fool around on the piano and write these messages to the ex-wife. You know - if she hears this, she'll understand how hurt I am. Funnily enough, the original lyrics were written on the back of the decorator's notepaper - who ran away with the wife." So why does Collins still write songs, given that his divorce was long ago? "Three divorces, mate. Three," he replies, holding up that many fingers. Given that pop songwriting appears to be something that can't be taught, what advice can these grand practitioners of the mysterious art give? Perhaps the best insight of all came from Cocker. "The beauty of songwriting is that any human being can do it," he says. "And they learned how to do it their way. One minute someone was sitting in the living room, having a cup of coffee. The next they picked up the guitar and wrote something from nothing. That's a miraculous event. That's what keeps me going".

 

 

LINK

[tbry]

Good article...everyone should read this...

[AaronF]

I always like to read things like this when I am blocked up. Usually, the result of the block is my negativity towards what I am doing ("Its been done before" or "This blows" or "This is super cheesy"), then I read something like that and start thinking of all of these great songs (think Beatles) that are just killer songs that aren't all that complex. Thanks for the article!

[speierg]

Interesting stuff...thanks for posting it. I guess there's still something to be said for the old K.I.S.S acronym...Keep it simple, stupid.

[Bodyguard2112]

Big Amen to that.

 

I recently had the same experience - being stumped on some lofty songs, when I realized so many of my favorites were much simpler than what I was trying to do.

 

It was back to the drawing board, and I got 3 songs almost immediately.

[paperdice]

i think production makes a song just as catchy

[wwwjd]

everytime I'm writing in my head, reaching for a mic or a fader, I keep repeating, "this isn't rocket science"

[Stackabones]

 

i think production makes a song just as catchy

 

 

Perhaps. But often it can cloud a listener's judgment.

 

How often do you hear someone say "I hate this modern day country crap. Too slick for me. Give me old Hank!" Now, I love old Hank as much as anyone else ... but when Hank was recording he was the modern day country crap that was too slick for the fans of the Carter Family.

 

Folks will listen to the production and completely miss the song. It's all about the song. Strip away the production and if it's good it'll still be good. Even when stripped of the symphony and huge chorus, Beethoven's Ode to Joy sounds good on a single string of a guitar.

[rsadasiv]

 

Perhaps. But often it can cloud a listener's judgment. How often do you hear someone say "I hate this modern day country crap. Too slick for me. Give me old Hank!" Now, I love old Hank as much as anyone else ... but when Hank was recording he was the modern day country crap that was too slick for the fans of the Carter Family. Folks will listen to the production and completely miss the song. It's all about the song. Strip away the production and if it's good it'll still be good. Even when stripped of the symphony and huge chorus, Beethoven's Ode to Joy sounds good on a single string of a guitar.

 

 

I see your point, but aren't we in the business of clouding a listener's judgment? What makes a song good is the reaction that it elicits from a listener. If production can contribute to that reaction why would you exclude that songwriting tool?

 

Ode to Joy sounds ok on a single guitar string, but with a huge chorus and full orchestra being driven by a passionate conductor it brings me very close to what I conceive of as heaven - and that, to me, is what music is all about.

[Stackabones]

 

I see your point, but aren't we in the business of clouding a listener's judgment? What makes a song good is the reaction that it elicits from a listener. If production can contribute to that reaction why would you exclude that songwriting tool? Ode to Joy sounds ok on a single guitar string, but with a huge chorus and full orchestra being driven by a passionate conductor it brings me very close to what I conceive of as heaven - and that, to me, is what music is all about.

 

 

As far as a marketing/sales tactic, sure ... we've got to put a bow on it and toss some glitter on it. But songwriters see and hear beyond the glitter. If a song isn't good, all that glitter won't make it gold.

 

I don't think songwriters should confuse the icing with the cake: a good song is the cake, the production is the icing.

 

How many killer versions of Summertime are there? Plenty ... but that's because it's some mighty fine cake.

[eeglug]

The thing is popular songwriting is so self-derivative and inbred and loaded with cliches that often production is all that differentiates one song from its ilk.

 

I think there's a balance here where some songs can pass the "acoustic guitar and voice around the campfire" test and where others more explicitly rely on the textures and timbres utilized to achieve their value. (In another thread, Stack, you were a big supporter of zero fret instruments - so timbre matters, and timbre=production.)

[Stackabones]

The thing is popular songwriting is so self-derivative and inbred and loaded with cliches that often production is all that differentiates one song from its ilk. I think there's a balance here where some songs can pass the "acoustic guitar and voice around the campfire" test and where others more explicitly rely on the textures and timbres utilized to achieve their value. (In another thread, Stack, you were a big supporter of zero fret instruments - so timbre matters, and timbre=production.)

 

 

Actually, the ladder bracing is the timbre issue ... the zero fret is the mojo and the slot head is the glitter!

 

I'm trying to think of songs that really move me that are solely, or have their major appeal, based on production and not the song. I can't think of any. Do you have some examples of songs that move you solely through production, but the song itself is meh?

 

I'm sure I've sat back and heard a song and thought "killer production, crap song" -- but I don't keep those songs around. I'd be more likely to return to a song that I thought had killer (or even slick or cheesy) production but was still a great song.

[eeglug]

Damn, I knew you would ask for examples . Generally I would say that music that is harmonically static or drone-like or modal is probably the kind of thing I'm thinking about. I'm thinking stuff like the almost interchangeable grooves James Brown was doing from the mid-60s to early 70s - and many similar imitations in the funk-soul groove. Some of that material can get kinda samey after a while and it's the use of different instruments and production techniques that separate one thing from another.

 

You can't really do songs like that around the campfire - they rely so much on the arrangement and production.

[Stackabones]

Ok. I can see that. You've got me thinking of some of Parliament's stuff. Still, those songs often hang off a really strong hook. Make my funk the P-funk! The groove is vital and the production is there as well, but without that hook the other tunes tend to run together.

 

And JB's I Feel Good can still hang together around the campfire!

[kurdy]

I think production can turn a song that's really nothing special into something that sounds really good, but there's a limit to how far it can go. I think the melody at least has to be serviceable, since that's the thing that people remember. You really can't "cover up" a bad melody.

 

Lyrics, on the other hand, can get away with much more. There are many popular songs full of cliches, or awkward lines, or that don't really say much of anything, but the production kind of glosses them over. Also, the performer makes a difference. Some performers can turn a mediocre song into something quite memorable.

 

But, having a great song to begin with just makes the process much easier.

[Lee Knight]

But saying, "i think production makes a song just as catchy" is such a cop out. They are different... uh... what's the word... components that make the whole.

 

To even think the phrase "i think production makes a song just as catchy" has what effect on the current task of writing the song? What effect do you think? Yeah, it has the effect of making you lazy. "That's good enough, we're going to use some backwards cymbals, don't worry about that cheesy rhyme."

 

"i think production makes a song just as catchy" Even a gimmick heavy producer knows his tricks are going to fly a lot better with a good song carrying them.

[Todzilla]

Writing a pop song is dead simple.

 

Writing a really good pop song is extremely difficult.

[Elias Graves]

A good pop single is the modern quivalent of a nursery rhyme. It has a message, it is simple, it is easy to remember and sing along with.

 

"It has a nice beat, Dick and I can dance to it. Four stars."

 

Slick production can help, but you must have that cake to begin with.

 

BTW, Stack, "bed of chords."

 

EG

[gismo recording]

If it's not a good song, the greatest production in the world won't help. BUT.

Great production can take a good song and make it a great song. Example: "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd

[Liquidgraph]

Nice breakdown. I'm just getting started and have been looking for good how-to's.

[King Conga]

WOW! There's as many different opines here as their are different musical styles. I'll try to be brief and succinct. Just to get this outa the way, I'll agree wholeheartedly with Stackabones on production. I LOVE production, and while it can definitely make a hit...IN A GIVEN TIME PERIOD. But as he wisely understands, a good tune sings itself, no matter WHO is singing it.

 

Now, how to settle on the basic elements of a great tune. Start with the hook. Whether that's the opening guitar lick of the Stones "Satisfaction", or Van Morrison's "Jackie Wilson 'Says'" opening lyric..."Budda, Da, Dup, Bop, BaDadda, BaDup...Jackie Wilson Says...". That hook has to be built on. I don't know of ANY great classic hit that hasn't been come upon that way.

 

I'm not saying I'm the master of hooks, I AM saying that I have listened to the masters, be they Carol King/Gerry Goffin, Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil, Laura Nyro, Jimmy Webb (WOW!), Holland-Dozier, Gamble-Huff, Ashford-Simpson. So what if you think they're old school. The fact is, these guys more than likely used an out of tune piano, their life experiences, and wits to come up with the classics they came up with. It IS that simple. How do you think drunk, illiterate blues singers came up with their ideas?

[Elias Graves]

 

Nice breakdown. I'm just getting started and have been looking for good how-to's.

 

 

Welcome aboard. Stack is an encyclopedia. You can learn from him.

 

Eloquence is a good thing.

 

EG

[Stackabones]

BTW, Stack, "bed of chords."

 

I think I've missed something here.

[Elias Graves]

I think I've missed something here.

 

Sorry. My whole trip on melody lines vs. chords. That line in the article about a melody over a bed of chords made me laugh at myself.

 

EG

[Stackabones]

Sorry. My whole trip on melody lines vs. chords. That line in the article about a melody over a bed of chords made me laugh at myself. EG

 

Ok.

 

I once a description about Oscar Peterson's accompaniment for Ella Fitzgerald. The review said that he put flowers at her feet. It could've been roses, but I can't recall.