Charles City, IA

Charly Weston Bike Trail/Charles City High School

Run Time: 65:54 + 2:30 kick

More serendipity. I saw the bike trail on my way through town to the hotel, and then it crossed the main drive only a quarter-mile or so away from the hotel. It crossed a bridge, wound through a patch of forest, and then came up right alongside the high school track. I had not been sure I had enough trail to cover half of the out-and-back run, but instead I diverted onto the track and got in more than half of the run there.

Also wonderful weather. As I ran down the trail listening to my playlist, I hit an almost euphoric state, which was augmented by the songs that came up. I listen to the songs on my playlist in alphabetical order, and recently I hit the end of the list and started back up with the A’s. One song that played during that run was a minor 1970s hit called “Ariel,” by Dean Friedman.

I started putting together my playlist around 2017 by looking at the America’s Top 40 listings from 1970-1980. I looked up the lists online and added songs one at a time. If I didn’t know or remember the song, I’d listen and then add it if I liked it. If I knew I liked it, I’d just add it. I didn’t remember “Ariel,” so I listened to it, and I kind of remembered it, but it was so far in my past and such a minor hit that it felt both familiar and fresh.

It’s a catchy song, but the genius of the song is in the lyrics. Here is one example: Standing by the waterfall in Paramus Park / She was working for the friends of the BAI / She was collecting quarters in a paper cup / She was looking for change and so was I. Here’s another: I took a shower and put on my best blue jeans / I picked her up in my new VW van / She wore a peasant blouse with nothing underneath / I said “Hi,” she said “Yeah I guess I am.” It really works with the melody too, the way the lines run together without a pause. Another passage: We had a little time, we were real hungry / We went to Dairy Queen for something to eat / She had some onion rings, she had a pickle / She forgot to tell me that she didn’t eat meat. Look, I know it’s not Shakespeare, but listen to the song. You will smile, if not laugh out loud.

Now that I have started writing songs myself, I can appreciate the difficulty of finding a lyric that works with the melody and the structure of the song, conveys a meaning that you intend, and isn’t too wordy or too sparse. It’s a completely different type of writing than prose. The rules are way different. The rhymes are hard to find sometimes. I’ve only written eight songs with lyrics at this point, and with most of them, I’ve changed the lyrics many times, right up to the point that I recorded it.

A few songs later, Janis Ian’s “At Seventeen” played through the headphones. A way different feel than “Ariel.” Case in point: Remember those who win the game / Lose the love they sought to gain / In debentures of quality / And dubious integrity / Their small town eyes will gape at you / In dull surprise when payment due / Exceeds accounts received / At seventeen. Amazing. I love when long, multi-syllable words match the beat of the song and just fit so well. This is good writing. And how profound is the use of the phrase when payment due / exceeds accounts received? I mean, come on.

Al Stewart’s “Year of the Cat” contains some of my favorite lyrics. On a morning from a Bogart movie / In a country where they turn back time / You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre / Contemplating a crime. He reaches for a higher voice note and emphasizes the first syllable of PETer in a way that makes you feel like you’re cresting a wave. Right after that: She comes out of the sun in a silk dress/ Running like a watercolor in the rain. Run in running is actually the last syllable of the previous measure, so that it rhymes with sun, which accentuates the flow of the song. Running like a watercolor in the rain. Again, come on. That’s beautiful.

You don’t have to be erudite to convey profound meaning in a song. A great example is the Rolling Stones “Gimme Shelter.” It’s a very heavy message, with the first two verses referencing storm and fire, each followed by a chorus of War, children, it’s just a shot away, then a break of Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away repeated three times, and then another verse about floods, followed by the War, children, it’s just a shot away chorus, and then finishes with a reversal of the chorus: I tell you love, sister, it’s just a kiss away. Inspired writing.

I could write about how rock musicians like Mick Jagger and Keith Richard wrote such beautiful songs in the midst of drug addiction, chronic self-destruction, and a nearly complete absence of self-management, but that’s a whole other blog post. Also, instrumental music can be transcendent, meditative, and elevating. For me, a well-crafted lyric is a work of art, which it is, of course. Music is art, and thank goodness we have it.

I could never begin to remember all of the song lyrics that have made all the difference for me. When they come back around on the playlist, I am awash with gratitude, appreciation, and awe.