From Entertainment Weekly:
Do rock and pop lyrics matter? Two of Entertainment Weekly's music
critics square off -- read their debate, followed by their lists of
favorite songs by Rob Brunner & Chris Willman
ROB BRUNNER: It's no surprise that the worst song ever written --
America's whiny, monotonous Neil Young rip-off ''A Horse With No
Name'' -- has horrible lyrics. There ain't no way for to enjoy a song
that contains lines like ''In the desert, you can remember your
name/'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain/La la la-ah
la-la la/La-la la, la la.'' But the truth is that most lyrics s***.
Dumb, awkward, self-important, or just plain silly, the words to the
majority of rock songs don't hold up to real scrutiny.
Even the supposedly great lyricists aren't so hot when you actually
read their words on the page. Springsteen, Costello, Lennon/McCartney
-- they've all saddled their catalogs with overwrought, cliché-filled
prose that wouldn't make it past a romance-novel editor.
Even the mighty Bob Dylan is an overrated wordsmith: Many of his songs
consist of little more than long strings of references and evocative
imagery that often add up to not very much. Try out this Dylan clunker
from ''Idiot Wind'' next time you get in a fight with your wife:
''You're an idiot, babe. It's a wonder that you still know how to
breathe.'' What does that even mean?
CHRIS WILLMAN: I'll resist the temptation to respond by singing,
''You're an idiot, Rob...'' But you just dismissed one of my favorite
lyrics, from one of the funniest songs ever written. It was not two
months ago, I swear, that I put on the remastered ''Blood on the
Tracks'' and began laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes. No
insult comic, not even Triumph, has ever arrived at a better or meaner
put-down than Dylan's assertion that his ex is so dumb she can barely
remember to inhale and exhale. In some ways, rock & roll and hip-hop
have supplanted stand-up comedy -- look at Eminem -- and Dylan is a
seriously underrated comedian.
BRUNNER: You're actually arguing that Dylan meant the line to be
funny? If he did, it barely rises to the level of your average ''yo
mama'' quip. But his tormented snarl is too bruised and nasty for me
to believe he's cracking jokes throughout the tune, especially since
the rest of the words -- yes, I actually listened to them -- are full
of fury, paranoia, and pain. At least they seem to be when I can
actually figure out what he's talking about; if you know what
''There's a lone soldier on the cross/Smoke pourin' out of the boxcar
door'' refers to, please fill us in.
WILLMAN: ''Idiot Wind'' is funny because it's so nasty that eventually
you have to laugh. Exaggeration has always been a hallmark of great
lyrics. Mundane thoughts about lost teen love getting inflated to the
level of Greek tragedy: That's 90 percent of rock in a nutshell. Doubt
it if you will, but kids -- and I'll count myself as one here --
actually listen to that crap and believe their measly feelings matter
because of it, whether it's Eamon's ''F--- It'' or ''A Teenager in
Love.''
And the fans who grow up and move on to, shall we say, even bigger
questions about life and death and love and loss -- from ''Dark Side
of the Moon'' to ''The Rising,'' to name a couple of easily mocked
song cycles I'll defend to the end -- those fans will tell you that
words matter more than grunts. I'll be pretentious and just blurt it
out: Rock isn't just our generation's stand-up comedy, but, for the
last 50 years, our poetry.
BRUNNER: You aren't the only one being pretentious. Try this lyric
from Led Zeppelin's ''No Quarter'' on for size: ''Walking side by side
with death/The devil mocks their every step/The snow drives back the
foot that's slow/The dogs of doom are howling more.'' Nice rhyme,
guys.
If you can really convince yourself lyrics are poetry, more power to
you. Jim Morrison -- one of rock's worst lyricists -- would agree. But
I don't think that has much to do with how most people listen to
music.
Look, I adore the work of Dylan, Springsteen, Costello, and the
Beatles. But can we please just admit that these people are not
literary geniuses? What they are, in fact, is great singers -- yes,
even Dylan. They take their so-so words and really sell them with
emotionally rich vocals that convey nuance and meaning -- depth that
just isn't there when you read it written out. Music, after all, is
ultimately about sound: rhythm, melody, texture, the timbre of the
human voice. It seems obvious, but so many critics seem to forget
this, spending too much time trying to make lyrics appear deep and
meaningful. But if mere words were enough to say it, why have the
music part at all?
WILLMAN: Because music adds a mystically emotional, transcendent
quality to wordy literalness, or sometimes acts as an ironic contrast,
or sometimes even just rocks hard enough that it takes the right
amount of p*** out of a brilliant lyric that might read a little too
portentously on the page. Are you telling me you've never heard a
lyric that made an okay tune into something great?
BRUNNER: Sure. I've been amused, moved, and inspired by lines written
by Morrissey, Ray Davies, Neil Young, and countless others. But while
lyrics are a nice bonus, they're never the point. I mean, would the
Stones have been less great if Jagger sang, ''I get tons of
satisfaction/I get lots of girls' reactions''? No way. Just listen to
the hook from last year's best song, OutKast's ''Hey Ya!'':
''Hey...ya. Hey...ya. Hey...ya. Hey…ya.'' That's a lyric!
WILLMAN: For the second time, you've picked on lyrics I'd planned to
cite as wonderful. The chorus of ''Hey Ya!'' might not have Rilke
rising from the ground in envy, but listen to the verses and you've
got a fascinating exploration of ambivalence about relationships.
Andre gives props to Mom and Dad for staying together, even though
''we'' -- in this sexually liberated generation -- ''don't know how.''
Then he spends most of the rest of the song blowing this girl off,
maintaining that all love fades, so why pretend we should mate for
life? There's something poignant about how he's compelled to
acknowledge monogamy as an ideal right before he knocks it down.
BRUNNER: Wow, you've got way too much time on your hands. Are you
actually trying to convince me the song was a hit in Italy, Sweden,
and other non-English-speaking nations because it offers a subtle
examination of the dynamics of contemporary relationships? It's a
silly, joyful track that sounds like nothing else and makes you want
to replay it the moment it's over. Plus it's got cool hand claps.
WILLMAN: I'm not saying it isn't a curse, sometimes, being a ''lyric
guy.'' Entire dinner parties have been lost to me because somebody put
on an old Dylan album and I drifted off, lost in wondering whether
''She knows there's no success like failure and that failure's no
success at all'' actually means anything. (By the way, I decided
''not'' -- score one for your side.)
I was pretty much the last semi-cool person alive to jump on the
Shins' bandwagon, because as much as I liked their melodic sense, I
wasn't sure what, if anything, they were going on about. When I
finally got my magnifying glass out and vetted the CD booklet, I
determined their songs were about something, and therefore, I could
embrace them -- I know, lucky them.
But in writing some great pop songs about existential chaos, the Shins
reminded me that often the best lyrics attempt to make sense out of
the senseless just by imposing some order in the form of a rhyme
scheme.
That said, I would also like to nominate ''Goo goo goo joob'' as a
rock profundity nonpareil. Because even a content-loving nutjob like
me can see there's a lot to be said for speaking in tongues.
BRUNNER: Now that you mention the Beatles, have any musical geniuses
ever come up with a lamer collection of lyrics? From ''I Want to Hold
Your Hand'' to ''Drive My Car'' to ''Come Together,'' these guys --
the best band ever, no less! -- have foisted innumerable lyrical
clunkers on us. Name a dumber song than ''All You Need Is Love.''
WILLMAN: How about ''Imagine''? Hey, even heroes are fallible. But the
Beatles set the lyrical bar with ''Yesterday,'' ''In My Life,'' and
''Help!'' They could also pull off the lowest form of lyric, parody
(the ''California Girls''-spoofing ''Back in the U.S.S.R.''), not to
mention sheer nastiness. (You've gotta love it when one Beatle can
tear another Beatle's hero down, in the Maharishi-mocking ''Sexy
Sadie.'') But since I feel the need to cede something, yes, ''All You
Need Is Love'' makes ''Horse With No Name'' sound profound.
BRUNNER: Well, we can agree on that. And I'll give you ''Goo goo goo
joob,'' which is a classic line. Now I think I'll go read a book.
Rob Brunner says these songs are classics, even though the lyrics are
dumb (or unintelligible or nonexistent):
"Purple Rain," Prince
"Shake Some Action," Flamin' Groovies
"Red," King Crimson
"Sludgefeast," Dinosaur Jr.
"Starman," David Bowie
"To Here Knows When," My Bloody Valentine
"I Want You to Want Me," Cheap Trick
"Trans-Europe Express," Kraftwerk
"Third Stone From the Sun," Jimi Hendrix
"New Rose," The Damned
Chris Willman thinks these tracks prove that rock lyrics are the only
poetry that counts:
"Long Shot," Aimee Mann
"Until the End of the World," U2
"Thunder Road," Bruce Springsteen
"The World's a Mess, It's in My Kiss," X
"Bastards of Young," The Replacements
"Red Dragon Tattoo," Fountains of Wayne
"I Want You to Hurt Like I Do," Randy Newman
"The Last Resort," Eagles
"In My Room," the Beach Boys
"Paradise by the Dashboard Light," Meat Loa
Rock Lyrics As Poetry
Moderator: SMLCHNG