There I was, paging through a CD booklet for the umpteenth time in my life, when it hit me: Song lyrics almost never read as well when staring back at you from a page.
Decades ago, popular music emerged out of lyrically driven genres like blues, country and folk, becoming more preoccupied with craft and style than good old-fashioned storytelling. Since then, lyrics have occupied a somewhat peculiar position in the pop music pantheon: They're generally the most apparent and readily accessible element of a song, but upon dissection of their meaning, they're often the most dismissible.
Distinguishing the vapid from the visionary depends largely on the success of a vocalist's delivery - it's not so much what they're saying but how they're saying it that counts. Still, there's a world of difference between good song lyrics and actual poetry, and only seldom do the two coexist when words are removed from their musical context.
Quite often, lyrics seem primarily chosen for how they sound within the framework of a song or at least for the melody they're able to carry. For instance, Paul McCartney originally wrote Yesterday"" with the lyrics: ""Scrambled Eggs / Oh baby how I love your legs,"" only replacing that charming sentiment with the song's now well-known lyrics about existential nostalgia as an afterthought.
There's just a handful of bona fide poets in rock music, and they've earned that title by willing placing poetic vision over musical utility. Accordingly, we can count Leonard Cohen's languid musings, Lou Reed's street cadence and the sprawling, narratively dense lyrics of folks like Bruce Springsteen and Jarvis Cocker as signs of true poets at work. Nick Cave should also be considered one of rock's premiere poets for his ability to juxtapose beauty and darkness in endlessly imaginative (and macabre) ways. The majority of the wannabe-poets pack can otherwise be succinctly summed up by a line from Morrissey, a vocalist who has come up with more than a few admirable turns of phrase: ""I didn't realize that you wrote poetry / I didn't realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry.""
Bob Dylan is most often cited as rock's poet laureate, and he's probably the only one whose lyrics are the subject of university courses and bathroom wall-writing alike. Dylan must be getting a good laugh out of those professors furrowing their brows over lyrics like ""I stood there and hummed / I tapped on her drum and asked her how come."" Many of his best songs are admittedly eloquent, often absurdly nuanced songs couched in beautiful metaphor, but don't forget, the guy was usually just singing about girls.
Back in middle school, I remember sitting around with people and plundering the philosophical depths of Goo Goo Dolls lyrics like ""When everything's made to be broken / I just want you to know who I am."" Apparently, I was somehow moved by this lyric back then, but now I guess I'm glad I don't remember why.
Lyrics that are overwrought with ""meaning"" usually end up getting at nothing at all in their grabs at profundity. Michael Stipe said it best: ""Speakin' in tongues / It's worth a broken lip."" Of course, that's exactly what Stipe did in R.E.M.'s best songs, but his voice was always mixed low enough to make his nonsensical lyrics indistinguishable, like just another instrument along for the ride.
Made-up word phrases, like the ""lye-la-lyes"" in Simon and Garfunkel's ""The Boxer"" or the ""Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom"" from Little Richard's ""Tutti Frutti,"" are just as effective as the most meaningful Doorsian rock poetry. Sure, those phrases are blatantly meaningless, but they also exude a whole mess of emotions, proving you don't even need real words to evoke meaning. Similarly, I've never quite understood Can's lyrical mishmash of German, Japanese, English and gibberish, but the Krautrock group has rocked me to my core more than most other bands.
Bottom line, when it comes to deciphering and analyzing lyrics, I agree with Fats Domino and Lester Bangs that it's better to just figure out lyrics for yourself than read them off a sheet. This way they remain part of a song, rather than becoming detached ""poetry"" lacking a musical anchor.
Think Jim Morrison is the undisputed master of lyrics? Has Ben 'lit your fire.' Let him know at bpeterson@wisc.edu.
