SONGWRITING
MAKING ROOM FOR… ROOM | Kevin MacDougall
Ludwig van Beethoven, one of the greatest
composers in all human history, viewed every
piece of music he ever created as an act of
worship. Anything he conceived or produced,
he made to reflect and honor the Divine—
from sonatas, to operas, to concertos, to
symphonies… All of it.
Beethoven once said, “I would rather write
10,000 notes than a single letter of the
alphabet.”
And though he loved poetry, and was never
against setting lyrics to music in his time, it’s
interesting to look back on those Beethoven
compositions which have remained with us.
There are so many wonderful melodies and
chord changes we know by heart. And all of
these compositions we’ve remembered for
hundreds of years now have something in
common.
They do not contain words.
And yet, among leaders and writers of sacred
music today, instrumental music seems to be
viewed as less important. As lacking in power
somehow compared to music with words.
Why would we ever think such a thing?
We could deny that we do, of course, on
some technical level… but the content of our
gatherings week after week reveals our values
pretty clearly, doesn’t it?
I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about
current events in our world, and things
unfolding here in America where I live. And as
I do, I can’t help but remember Jesus’ words:
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for
justice, for they will be satisfied.” As I believe
many in our time are learning to hunger and
thirst for justice, I also believe that means taking
the time to listen. To hear.
But when we gather, it can be hard to hear
anything beyond what has been decided on
in advance. Our Church services are so often
hurried and relentless. We cram as much as we
can into a set, and one song cascades quickly
into another. Prayers and announcements
and sermons and buffers of all kinds surround
everything. All to keep things “flowing.”
All
to
avoid
too
much
…space.
And I think, if we’re honest, we tend to write our
songs with all that busyness and hurriedness
in mind. It’s not even a conscious choice at
this point. We’ve simply become normalized
to writing for a setting in which there’s seldom
room to breathe.
This being the case, a great remedy and
disruption to the state of things might just be
setting ourselves to the task of writing some
instrumental pieces. And making room when
we play for there to be room.
I was once showing a new song to the band
during a worship team rehearsal, and after
I’d played through the various parts, our
lead guitarist—fresh off the road from playing
stadiums with his popular Christian band—
said, “I dunno, man. It’s not hitting the chorus
within 45 seconds, and it kinda needs to.”
Everyone was quiet. I asked why he thought
that. He said, “That’s just what works.”
“That’s just what works.” But is it? I mean,
not only was I not trying to write a radio hit for
Ke$ha, is that approach of radio Pop songs
(so easily consumed and dispensed with) really
what works? Because I’m not so sure it does.
At least not exclusively. Surely, there needs to
be more to sacred music and songwriting than
that.
And again today, in these times especially,
I’m reminded: I’d like to hear new songs that
30 July 2020
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