1971 was a hell of a year! If any of you come across recordings of any of these TV appearances post a link. It’s hard to believe that there are some things you just can’t find on the web – but these are deep cuts I guess 🙂
Troubadour Rewind: Fly Me Home. Lyrics and Music by Michael Snow. Photo by JOtwell. To purchase this song: https://itunes.apple.com/au/album/here-comes-the-skelly/id47196728
Augmenting a partner’s strengths and shoring up their weak spots may seem like an obvious notion, and so it should be, but artists have egos, and sometimes an individual’s understanding of their scope may not agree with yours. If the division of labor is demarcated- as with the lyricist/ melodist model, it’s clear cut. But often the lines are more difficult to draw. If writing partners are bringing a complete skill set to the table (good lyrical ability, adept musicality, melodic strength that can be vocally realized on the spot) it can all seem like a walk in the park, euphoric even. But that kind of synchronicity is rare, and those lucky enough to find it often spend their careers together. However, life has a way of intervening, and sometimes even long-standing partners feel the need to move on.
Many writers began writing solo and got into co-writing because that’s the prevalent model in their corner of the industry, with Nashville being a prime modern example, as are EDM, and hip-hop, where the list of songwriter credits can be longer than the lyric….to be deprived of a long standing writing partner can be devastating, and often neither can ever again match the achievements they attained together. Maintaining one’s individual identity can be a balancing act, because the very act of co-writing involves sharing, and baring elements of one’s inner self. Some people are less able to do that than others, but it usually becomes obvious rather quickly, at which point it’s better to cut and run. As a rule of thumb, if the process feels forced, then it probably is.
My longest partnership was about ten years. We each had the aforementioned skill-set, plus a shared ability to see our subject matter in a theatrical, almost cinematic way, so that the musical and lyrical aspects tended to be apropos to the characters and situations to which we were trying to give flesh. We wrote three to four days a week religiously, and during that time seldom wrote outside the partnership. We meshed well and the result was a solid catalog. But life intervened. I’ve always considered myself a solo writer who enjoys co-writing if the stars are aligned, so I was able to be philosophical- grateful for the experience, but just as ready to move forward to the next table as my former partner was. No bad feelings, no cross words, simply dealing with the reality.
There is also no guarantee that putting established writers in the same room will produce great songs. Some years ago, I was managing the publishing operation of a highly successful, award-winning writer when I came upon a tape box of titles which bore not only my boss’s name, but also the name of an even more famous writer. I wondered why this cache was collecting dust in the vault, but when I brought the subject up my employer said “Didn’t work” I listened to the tapes anyway, but he was right. On paper, this should have been a world-beating collaboration, but in reality it was flat as a pancake, and obviously they both knew it.
RULES ARE MADE TO BE BROKEN.
Notwithstanding any advice you may get from me or anyone else, there are no hard and fast rules. The whole endeavor is so subjective that the wild whimsy of a John Lennon or Roger Miller, and the studied thoughtfulness of a Hal David can each result in wonderful, memorable song craft….for every uber sophisticated Burt Bacharach or Jimmy Webb there is a raw-boned counterpart who can touch the listener just as deeply, and touching the listener deeply is the main object.
Upon moving into our 1875 cottage in the Historic Edgefield district across the Cumberland River from downtown Nashville, one of the first things I did, given the extant horizontal flagpole on the front porch, was to purchase small versions of the three flags that define my life journey and that of my family. Today they are rigid and fringed with icicles, which gives them almost a sculptured quality. I suppose it made me take a deeper look.
Each flag is a modest 12″ x 8″, with the Irish Republic tri-color (the green, white and gold) at the top end of the pole, the Stars & Bars in the center, and the Union Jack on the inside. No conflict on this flagstaff, however … the tri-color honors my first generation Irish roots and the deep connection I’ve always felt to Ireland, and still do. The Union Jack speaks to my birth country and the city I was fortunate enough to be born in, Liverpool, Star Of The Sea. Although I never felt English, really, England was mostly my day-to-day reality, and I prospered on that alien shore, especially during the Swinging London period when my musical career was going gangbusters, and I met the woman of my life, a wispy American blonde who loved England more than I did, my wife Patti.
Our first child, Celeste, was born in London in 1970, so she’s a Brit. We moved to the States in 1973 and our son was born in 1977, so he’s an American. I finally took U.S citizenship in the 90s, which makes me now an Irish-Scouse-Yank.
So these three flags, currently frozen in place, but soon to be free again, sum up our family and our journey. Long may they wave!