Some people love jigsaws, some people crosswords, some love code breaking and others like those “spot the difference” things that I’ve, honestly, always been terrible at.
For me, the puzzle I love solving is putting a song together, finding a melody and lyric that match perfectly and a harmony that supports the whole idea. The difference here, I suppose, is that with all those other kinds of puzzles you can complete it, step back, and know it’s done.
Sure, maybe one day, you’d go back to the jigsaw, break it apart and do it again, but if it were truly akin to the puzzle of songwriting, it’d be more like coming back to it because there was a piece missing… or you found one under the lounge that didn’t quite match… or you got a piece of cardboard and made one yourself to fit.
Songwriting is, for me at least, an exercise in imperfection - being okay with that, learning, trying again and maybe getting it “more” right next time.
I was reflecting on this as I got lost down another rabbit hole recently, one called “modal interchange”. Don’t worry, I’m not going to give a lecture on the benefits of music theory (although ask yourself how you’d feel if your Uber driver proudly proclaimed “I never learned to drive, I just do what feels right”) but suffice to say it’s rare these days that I’ll settle for a “regular” chord progression… possibly to my detriment.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of songwriting as a puzzle is its inherent unpredictability. Much like a cryptic crossword or a riddle with no clear answer, the process of songwriting is filled with twists and turns, unexpected detours, and moments of inspiration. It's a journey into the unknown, where every chord change and lyrical shift holds the potential to transform the entire composition.
I’ll never forget the look on the face of my good friend Dallas Keenes when I brought a song chart into rehearsals for our then new band One Proud Monkey. I had written up 7 chords when Dallas made a comment along the lines of, “that’s enough chords for this song” when I informed him that I’d only just completed the verse. The song in question, “Jimmy Superfly”, ended up with around 23 chords give or take (ask me about inversions and chord extensions anyday).
“Pieces of Different Puzzles” is another such track, and there’s a chord at the end of the chorus - when I stumbled on that one… I just can’t convey the satisfaction that brought me. After all, songwriting offers a unique opportunity to embrace paradox and contradiction. In the world of music, dissonance and harmony coexist in a delicate balance, much like the pieces of a puzzle that may not fit together at first glance but ultimately form a cohesive whole. It's through this interplay of opposites that the true beauty of a song emerges – in the tension between light and shadow, joy and sorrow, love and loss.
Anyway… in the reflection I started to wonder if I ever want to write the perfect song - complete the puzzle if you will - because then I’d have to stop. And doing this brings me so much happiness, I just don’t think I can.
Thanks for being part of this.
Clint