Feel a Thought?

Week 9 - Discussion Post (also on FB)

Despite having a musical background and sitting in on Robert Kapilow’s fascinating crash course in song analysis, I’ve struggled to identify “THE hook” in each of the songs. As I have listened to the suggested songs, I found myself riveted by rhythm at one point only to be dazzled by dynamics in another. In some of the songs, the melody proves to be memorable at moments, but is sometimes inched out by instrumentation later on. While held by a hook, I seem to get knotted in a net of notes and other musical nuances. I get tangled in the fishing line of tempo and timbre and text. Certainly Kapilow and Copland are more than capable of navigating the nets, holding true to “THE hook,” but I want to know if there has to be just one? That said, I will attempt to articulate my analysis.

Not being familiar with any of these songs (My time overseas, while illuminating in many ways, was also isolating, particularly in terms of pop culture), I was able to listen to each song with fresh ears. Not really knowing much about any of them and having no preference, I listened in order of appearance.

Not Ready to Make Nice
The first two musical phrases in this song, absent of any vocalization, were quite intriguing. The dark, deep, resonating note pounded out on the piano created a hollow, hurting feeling. An emptiness echoed inside me as that first note sounded and was followed up with low, lingering sounds on the downbeat of each mournful measure. The slow stepping in the bass created an image of a heavy and lonely left hand plodding along the piano, somber and solitary.

On top of this tense, timekeeping tone, a discordant turn of the guitar was added. The almost-goading grace note seemed to stick a finger in an open wound and twist. That hurt feeling served as an initial hook. As the lyrics entered in, a sense of cynicism about forgiveness confirmed that some form of hurt was at the heart of the song.

As the song progressed, we eventually reach the refrain, which, for me, served as a secondary hook (if that’s possible). Up until this point, the instrumentation and vocalization consisted of a series of short phrases with longer pauses in between. This measured means of “communication” added to the tension and contributed to the message that forgiveness was not forthcoming. The refrain, though, seemed to release some of the rage. Rather than a somewhat muted snare keeping beat, time was kept with a crashing cymbal. And, while the tempo did not increase, the number of articulated beats did. The pauses were virtually eliminated (or at least significantly reduced) and words spewed forth. I felt as if all the pent up anger was being unleashed. Certainly, the opening hooked me initially, but it is this portion of the song that echoed in my mind later on.

Ain’t No Other Man
I loved the opening to this song. From the first blast of, what I assume are, a set of saxophones, I was hooked. As the raspy bass sax and the harmonizing tenor sax climbed curiously up a nonstandard scale, I couldn’t help but experience a sense of anticipation. What would come next? Certainly, the subsequent sound of the singer’s voice was unexpected. As she glided up the scale and wiggled (for lack of a better term) her way back down, I was amazed by her range and was prepped for a powerful performance. This power was punctuated by the big band sound as the brass broke through.

After catching listeners’ attention, the song settled in to a strong and steady bass drum beat. My toes couldn’t keep from tapping. The brass blasts (repeated regularly throughout) continued to keep my attention. In addition to repetition, dynamics (the brass blasts were much louder than the rest of the instruments) and rhythm (somewhat syncopated) served as, what Bennett would call, constant “attention grabbers” (Burns, 1987: 1).

Waiting on the World to Change
Syncopation, the snare, and the cymbal started this song off with a special something that sparked interest. Combined with sometimes clumsy-sounding (although, surely calculated) claps, counting, and keyboard, I was caught. The instruments created a very bright, hopeful feeling, which is welcomed if one is “Waiting on the World to Change.”

The rhythm also played a role in catching and keeping my attention. While not a “driving, danceable” rhythm (Burns, 1987: 1), I felt the need to move and groove a bit in the chair. That said, this song, with its somewhat monotonous meter (accent on every other beat), had the potential to lull me into a state of listless listening. Thinking about this, I was reminded of a couple comments from Tom Ashbrook’s interview with Robert Kapilow. At one point, Kapilow quoted Stravinsky saying, “All of composition essentially comes down to a balance of unity and variety” (Ashbrook, 2002). The snare and cymbal, while sleepy at times, was both consistent and unifying. Subtle syncopation and slight rhythm alterations, though, provided the variety needed to balance out the song and keep it interesting.

Kapilow made another statement I think is applicable, “Repetition creates a sense of belonging greater than us” (Ashbrook, 2002). While not necessarily profound or riveting, the rhythmic repetition in this song draws listeners in and allows them to partake in the musical experience. Considering that the very first line of lyrics states, “Me and all my friends, we’re all misunderstood…,” I think the rhythmic repetition is refreshing, reaching out to those would want to be a part of the change but are currently marginalized. Maybe that’s more meaning than was / is intended, but these are the risks of reflection.

SexyBack
This song epitomizes “a driving, danceable rhythm,” part of the definition of “hook” described by Kasha and Hirschhorn (Burns, 1987: 1). Beyond the beat, the synthesized sounds effects served to showcase what the song was selling… sex (or sexiness).

Jesus Take the Wheel
Melody was the most moving element of this song for me. The opening phrase, repeated once prior to the introduction of the voices, serves as the foundation for all instrumental and vocal phrases throughout the remainder of the song. This reminded me of Kapilow’s analysis of “Somewhere of the Rainbow,” in which he described a circle, yearn, and leap pattern. While not in the same order, this repeated phrase does seem to have a similar construction. Opening with a high note conveys a sense of yearning. Hope slowly fades as the three subsequent notes slump down the scale. Hope and yearning circle around, though, as the phrases repeats, leaping once again to a high note.

While melancholy and even mournful most of the time, when this melodic phrase manifests in the refrain, the circle, yearn, and leap pattern modulates into something more majestic. For me, this reflects the fact that when “Jesus Takes the Wheel” things change. Dynamic, tempo, and register (higher notes) changes all add significance to this act of surrender noted in the lyrics. It gave me goose bumps. As I listened to this song, Kapilow’s quote of E. Yip Harburg came alive, “Words make you think a thought, music makes you feel a feeling, a song makes you feel a thought” (Ashbrook, 2002).