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While I was discussing the Just Plain Folks Music Awards with Harriet Schock, (one of our finalist judges) we came across the topic of talented artists/writers and their phenomena of sometimes picking their own weakest music as their best. I found, in perhaps 33% of the final nominees, that when asked to list their 4 strongest songs, they picked some of the weakest on the CD. Keep in mind, these are folks who are already being recognized for their great music. It seemed they themselves weren't tuned into their own strongest songs. Pro that she is, Harriet immediately knew what I was talking about, and told me she had already written a story about this in her new book "Becoming Remarkable." (A fine collection of many of the educational articles and stories Harriet has written over the years.) I thought this would be the perfect timing for this story, and below it follows! Thanks to Harriet for sharing!
Mentor Harriet Schock Email hschock@relaypoint.net writes:
I had a realization recently at a songwriters' showcase I was hosting. The talent for judging one's material comes later than the talent for writing it.
Having observed for years that becoming a great songwriter was a most formidable task, I assumed nothing could take longer. Even if it took additional time to become a wonderful performer, I thought that would be the last step, that the rest of the package would just fall together. From then on, I thought, it would be a matter of growing in what you had to say and saying it well. If you could do all that, surely you could put a great set together, select your own material for your CDs, and know which songs to put on your compilation demo tapes. But this seems to require another skill, altogether, and just because someone is a great songwriter and an incredible performer, that doesn't mean he has this other skill. It is the skill of judging one's own material, of deciding which song is exceptional and which song is just good. I'll go so far as to say the skill of telling exceptional from absolutely awful is sometimes missing.
Frequently I've heard publishers, producers and record executives say "He/she's inconsistent." Now I realize more than ever what that means. It can mean the songs are not at a consistently high level or that within one song, the quality varies. Have you ever heard a song with a great first verse and chorus, and the second verse is from Mars? I often hear a song that barely makes sense until it gets to the killer chorus, which is wasted on a song with lame verses.
A real record producer, and by that I mean, someone who is wearing the hat of a producer-not simply an engineer who's making it all sound good-a real record producer will choose or help choose the songs on a CD. Even at the level of Michael Jackson, when Quincy was producing him, I heard that Quincy sent Michael back time and time again for more songs. When Jackson was interviewed regarding the success of "Thriller," he commented, "we just found the best melodies we could find..." Well, the "we" included Quincy. And lyrics were also seriously considered. So it's not just neophytes who have problems distinguishing between their songs, in quality.
Nik Venet always chooses the material for his artists, and in many cases, gets the artists to write the needed songs in the first place. Since he's not the writer, Venet feels he has a perspective the writer can't possibly have. John Stewart, Fred Neil and Dory Previn always looked to him to choose the material for this very reason. In the case of "California Bloodlines," John Stewart had 30 or 40 songs to choose from. Venet was looking for just the right short stories to make up the novel. Even though John's song, "Daydream Believer" was a hit, it wasn't right for that album, so Venet didn't include it. The vision to see the entire forest is often difficult for the artist who's so close to all the trees. Frequently a more external perspective is necessary. That could account for why so many of the self-produced CDs out there have no continuity; and there is a wide inconsistency in quality between cuts.
Some writer/artists depend upon their live audiences to give them feedback. And this feedback is valuable, to be sure. But what works in concert is sometimes quite different from what will work on a CD. I got talked into recording a show-stopper type of song on my third album, and I really regretted it. It was humorous and the crowds loved it. But it no more matched the rest of the songs on the album than a pink boa would go with a black suit.
Some of the reasons I think writers fall in love with their homely children are: 1) They're new and every new song is the best song you've ever written . . . 2) It feels really good to sing it . . . 3) The circumstances of writing it were exceptional (e.g., It was the only good thing to come out of a bad relationship. . . . It was the first song you wrote with so-n-so. . . . It was the only song you wrote on your vacation in Bermuda. . . . It evokes lots of pictures of your life you like to look at, but which you left out of the song . . . etc.) 4) You've been asked to do a 30 minute set, and you only have 20 minutes worth of good songs.
Although judgment is something gradually acquired and not easily taught, I will suggest a possible way to start. Find your best song-the song that never lets you down, or anyone else down. It could be the song everyone asks for, the one you would show someone who really wanted to know you as a songwriter, but had only 3 or 4 minutes. It's not necessarily the most "hit" sounding song; but it's the song that captures most people when they hear it. Ask yourself what's in that song. What is it about the melody, the chords, the rhythm, the story, the pictures, the subject matter-really look at that song in depth. Get into the experience someone has when they hear that song. Does that magic occur with your other songs? If so, to what degree? Use your magical song as a measuring stick. Maybe all the others don't come up to that highest mark, but is there substantial merit, in how it affects listeners and you?
I have a student from Illinois who sends me songs to critique, and part of what he wants is for me to tell him which ones he should show, which ones he should rewrite and show, and which ones he should consider learning experiences and discard. In his most recent note, he said "If you ever water down your opinion on my songs, you'll never hear from me again." Since I had been exceptionally frank with him, I was glad he still felt that way. He apparently is aware that he is not the best judge and wants someone else's opinion. Such is not the case with many of the songwriters I see performing or whose tapes I receive. On the same tape will be a masterpiece and a cause for embarrassment. And now I realize it's simply because the skill of distinguishing between the two is learned later, in most cases, than the skill of creating the masterpiece.