The final day of the Song Factory course
We sang Bill Withers and the Beatles together
Last week we brought my first New School Song Factory class to its conclusion. I have taught songwriting many times before, but it was always as a means to learning something else: music theory, production, progressive pedagogical methods. This was my first opportunity to teach songwriting for the sake of songwriting. The final session ended with a spontaneous singalong of "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, initiated not by me, but by the students. I couldn't have planned it any better if I had tried.
This didn't happen out of the blue. I had started off the session by talking about "Lean On Me", because I consider it to be the best American song recorded in the past hundred or so years. I made the case that it would make a better national anthem than our current terrible one. This led to a conversation about political music, and whether it's possible to write a good protest song in 2023. How could you write something earnest and sincere without it turning into another "Kumbaya"? The students' general feeling is that the only good protest songs lately have been "Alright" and "This is America".
I pointed out that art can be politically responsive not just by directly speaking to specific issues, but also by just being human and subjective. This is the "Dadaism as a reaction against capitalism, nationalism and war" angle. This kind of art can seem frivolous, but it's maybe the most effective window into people's inner subjectivity, and that can be powerful. Once you recognize that other humans have internal lives that are just as rich and complex as your own, then you can't really treat them as abstractions or objects anymore. Also, intentionally illogical and intuitive art can break you out of the mistaken belief that every profound truth is accessible via rational thought. My personal favorite song in this mode is "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads, and we listened to it. We watched a little of David Byrne's American Utopia, and talked about the part of "Slippery People" where Byrne scat-sings nonsense. The class was into it; they thought there was something inviting and participatory about Byrne's un-self-conscious playfulness.
"Slippery People" owes a lot to the music of the Black church, to the point where the Staple Singers even covered it. We talked a bit about this music, about its power and beauty. The queer students in the class have a highly conflicted relationship with their churches, as frankly do the rest of them. We agreed that it would be great to have the community and ritual aspects without the archaic dogmas attached. Maybe something like Octavia Butler's Earthseed.
Anyway, after all that, one student presented her pop song, which was based around a I7-IV7 blues groove. You can't help but tell the melodic truth over that progression. This student's other songs had been complex, poetic and brooding, and she struggled hard to write something simpler and more upbeat. She told me after class that it had been really valuable to her to push out of her comfort zone, that she had been very anxious to present the song to her peers, and that their encouragement had meant a lot. I heard similar sentiments from several other people in the class, and I couldn't have wished for better feedback. Songwriting classes inevitably have a group therapy aspect, and I'm glad people were willing to take emotional risks.
As our time ended, the class wanted to sing something together. First, someone suggested the Beatles, so we did "Blackbird" and "Yesterday." Then someone else asked for "Lean On Me", and that's how we wrapped.
I don't think I have enjoyed teaching anything as much as I have enjoyed this class. It brings together everything I care about professionally: creativity, music theory, recording and production aesthetics, cultural history, critical theory, and much else. I had my best sessions on the days when I didn't have much planned before I walked in the door. I can't wait to teach this again.