I have a fascination with wordy songs. Done well, I think they can make a song into a great intricate system of hidden compartments and false bottoms. I love coming across songs with secrets, letting them reveal themselves over many listens. Nuance, I guess you’d call it, but all spangled up with syllables.
I submit this verse from Joni Mitchell’s ‘Come in From the Cold’.
Is this just vulgar electricity
Is this the edifying fire
Does your smile’s covert complicity
Debase as it admires
Are you just checking out your mojo
Am I just fighting off growing old
All I ever wanted
Was just to come in from the cold
Had a wonderful evening of Joni sycophancy in Melbourne recently. Australian jazz singer Kristin Berardi was the standout for me. Her interpretation of ‘Little Green’ was like astral travelling – shivers and prickle-tears, the whole bit.
The night got me thinking about poetry and lyrics, and I realised that my favourite musical lyricists tread the line between them. I don’t think lyrics are poems, and I don’t think they should be. But just occasionally, when they’re both, I have my perfect musical moments.
This train of thought is a long one, it turns out. It’s uncovered a massive database of lyrics in my brain. So I’m going to go on about this a bit. Stay tuned, there’s more coming.
