I've never written a song though I imagine the experience is about as cathartic as reaching the fourth act of a greek tragedy. Hubris gone there's only passion and witty speech left to enlighten the reader (listener) as to the complicated details going on, not in the characters' mind but on the writer's tribulations.
Standing here wishing this musical musings would drive pen to pentagram and drive a chromatic scale to new unmet bounds of glory. But wishing does as little for music as squishing an ant does for cleaning my room. Remember it's a butterfly that's important.
I'd write a song to my peeps. The ones made of human flesh and not confectionary sugar meant to fulfill a tiny desire locked away deep in our frontal lobe. It wouldn't be an indie version of things with one stanza of ambiguous lyrics and an abstract word like "coldness-city" or "peaceful-ighty" to be repeated constantly throughout.
I'd model my song after the greats attempting to cover a lifespan of a story in a few choice words crammed into tiny lines meant to fit into the little squares of printed paper inside a CD. A song written not for glory or riches but for guts and soul.
Choosing the genre would be difficult and so I would probably opt for a mash-up. The type that mixes happy go lucky songs with sentimental heart-throbs of decades past and a sprinkling of thug-thumping hip-hop born and raised in streets where warriors wear Air Jordans and hope to god they make it home before their light goes out.
Eyelids closed.
The song you play on repeat for days at a time and you skip through all the other tracks on the cd. The song you and all your (my) friends nod and smile to on road trips. Constantly played at the end of nights out and memorializing your wedding I hopefully toasted and playing in the background of your musical life.
My friends. It's as simple as Do. Re. Mi.
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