The Beautiful Selfishness of Songwriting

Recently I've been thinking a lot about songwriting. Music has weaved its way in and out of my life for the entirety of it, slipping in when I least expect it and blocking its own motion when I desire it the most. A song creeps into my mind like a memory, appearing once slight with a hum or a melody and then pushing its way into my frontal cortex with a vision in my literal mind. It's a somewhat frustrating and tumultuous relationship that I hold with it and that isn't due to hatred or disdain. I could never “hate” music. I will push myself to the brink of writing, leaving everything in my voice notes, my notes app or a notebook, spilling all my secrets and revealing them again to myself, sometimes in a way I never even recognised. And that's where the love-hate relationship comes into play.

It's something I think most musicians can relate to and something I've only recently dipped my toes into the surface of. That when you try to force a song or emotion, it usually slips out of your hands, the meaning being lost in a cloud of judgement. In situations of anger, of sadness, of grief or upset, I usually turn to my guitar. The six strings and dusty bridge that sit in the corner of my room, signalling I have something that needs to get out. There's a pleasure in being able to release it all at once, the built-up emotion of situations I have longed to process. The raw and undercooked lyrics spill out like poison, with the occasional dig and oblivious obviousness of what the song is about. And I think that is why my mind prevents it.

A song never goes the way it's meant to originally. As the poisonous lyrics hit the page, they burn straight through them, never to be found again, and that's something I don't always hate. My guitar acts like my therapist, allowing me to hit its strings as hard as I can and tell it all of my deepest emotions. It will listen to my struggles, my endeavours and my successes and react the same way every time. It changes my thoughts and puts them into motion in a healthy manner, processing and deciphering my life quicker than I can. And that's what I've really been thinking about.

Writing music is inherently selfish; we put everything we have into a song and it's always all about us. About our thoughts, our feelings, our opinions and our lives. Although that's not and won't ever be a bad thing. I love the selfish nature of music because it is inherently human. It's uniquely you. And I love hearing it from other artists as well. You never know exactly what is going on inside someone's head, but music allows a trailer before the movie. It allows you to hear what another person has going on in their life, and although you will never exactly relate it creates a rapport next to no other. There are hundreds of songs out there that I've felt near to no other connection with, that I've heard and understood in an indescribable way. And that is why I love the selfish nature of music. 

I recently wrote a song that was in revolt to AI under the “this old town is real” project, sparked by Cormac Neeson and California Irish. At first, I wanted to relate to the project and relate to what its meaning was: the misuse of AI in arts and music. But after trying for days and writing chords with no meaning and lyrics that weren't mine, I realised I was no better than the mindless robots I was meant to be writing against. So I stopped. I listened to the only person that knew exactly what I wanted to write about: my mind. I let myself explore the touchy subject that sleeps inside of me, the monster named ego-centric. It's an insecurity I have, and always will, that I speak only about myself and I do it too much. That all my music is just me meandering on about my own thoughts and feelings, and that no one wants to listen to that. That my chronic overthinking is a self-absorbed nature that should be avoided. Although my thought process has completely changed now.

Why would anyone write about anything but what is true to them and what they know? When there are people out there using websites and artificial sources to manufacture a song, and that is something I truly disdain, why wouldn't I talk about myself? It makes me grateful to have an imagination that simmers and bubbles and explodes into art that I can rehearse, play and perform. 

It's the reason why music appeals to me, that i can not only decipher my own thoughts but also listen to the reason others do as well. That I can hear stories and fables of another person’s adventures and inspire myself to do the same. Recently one song that stood out to me in this way was “Logic” by the Thing Is. It speaks of an experience far too familiar for thousands of women, the rise in femicide and violence placed upon our shoulders. It's a topic deeply understood and unfortunately far too common to experience but the way that song was written spoke from true inner narrative. The unforgiving fight that the women in that band breathe daily and the news stories that only fuel the fire. It speaks from individual experience while simultaneously giving a voice to those who can't speak aloud. And that's how the importance of speaking from your own voice really shows. It speaks for those who can't or won't. 

Another record that stands fresh in my mind is Joshua Burnside’s “Teeth of Time/Mountain". The fear felt explicitly by the writer of the ambiguous nature of our children’s future. The psychological turmoil is felt throughout the song, of watching wars and divisions pass quickly by while human nature prevails. It's so uniquely Joshua, the folk inspirations and capricious beauty to the lyrics with deep interlacing undertones of experience felt by many others but in his own way. The song stood out so deeply because it inspires a feeling of wonder in me. How another person's mind can create a story I can see so clearly in my own, and the importance of writing from yourself prevails. 

The word “selfish” has appeared throughout this piece, and I use that word in a way its connotations don't usually relate to. It relates to being able to overthink, to be able to overflow your unique human experience into your art, to be able to think independently and from your own mind, and to do all these things in the most selfless way possible. By putting it out there so that everyone that has the pleasure of it can hear it and feel it as well.