Words – it’s always been the words

Sunday 15th May

From as long as I can remember I have been fascinated with the words in songs, and our popular songs are folk poetry, even if they are largely manufactured.  When I first bought records, albums, I would sit cross-legged on the floor and pore over the lyrics, the reverse side of the cover balanced on my knees as I tried to decipher the hidden messages in the words.  And I was writing my own songs then too, poems that I sort of knew how to sing along to, though I have never mastered an instrument and I am sure I sing out of key all the while.  And it was the words that mattered; just what were The Beatles trying to say to me?  And then I discovered Dylan and the words started to make sense, even when he deliberately spilled weirdness over everything “Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule” or “they’re painting the passports brown” – it all made sense somehow.  Then Leonard came calling “Jesus was a Sailor and he walked upon the water till only drowning men could see him.” And “I told you when I came I was a stranger”.  And I knew I wasn’t alone, that someone else understood.

And then I fell in love with Joni and her wonderful lyrics and Neil Young singing down by the river, the words reeling in my brain as I learnt every line.  And Bowie and Elton and all the others down the line; the words and the intonation of the voice inhabiting the words were what I was listening for, some communion, some holy sharing of life’s experience.  And in songs I have found such strength.  Especially those sad songs of loneliness and loss and yearning.  Why I enjoy this melancholy side of life so much I really don’t know.  Maybe my default mode is misery and I force a smile for everyone else so they think I am okay and leave me alone.  But really I am not sad, even when I am singing along to Leonard or Joni or Bob; Joni once said “There is comfort in melancholy” and I have found it; when I have been at my lowest I put on another sad record and sing along, almost wiping the tears out of my eyes.  And gently gradually I am lifted and healed by the magic of the words.

I cannot stop listening to the lyrics in songs, and sometimes get quite annoyed when playing something for someone and they start talking over the words.  ‘Listen to them, listen to what they are saying’ I feel like saying.  But maybe, just like when I listened to secret messages from the Fab Four, the words are really for my ears only.  If no-one else can distill the magic, so be it – at least I know what they mean.