So, since about 37 days ago, I’ve been writing a tiny song a day.
What’s a tiny song? A little demo-like song that takes under an hour to record, and lasts for less than a minute. Tiny song. The aim is to do 100.
The purpose of this 100 Tiny Songs project is to lean harder into my niche as a songwriter. I recently had a mentor tell me that I was good at writing weird, observational little songs. This mentor told me it was what endeared her to my work. And it would be what endeared a lot of other people to me, too.
That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that opinion, but at the time I found it weird — I thought people preferred my slow, sad, acoustic stuff? My heartbreaks on train platforms and my little-too-personal lyrics?
No, it was my short songs about petting dogs and businessmen ordering steaks that had the “spark.”
I’ve always loved being funny and making strange things. When I was a kid I wrote songs about poisonous plants, yodelling goats and a big pop number about Santa Claus which sounded a lot like Culture Club’s ‘Karma Chameleon.’ When I started writing songs and gigging, I made upbeat stuff and a lot of the things I put on Bandcamp were little vignettes about my life, in the form of quirky little songs.
As the years went on, I started to think that I needed to go deeper, more serious, more heart-wrenching. People liked sad stuff. My voice sounded great when I was singing about rain. The holes in my guitar skills didn’t show when I played slower. And the producers who worked with me encouraged me to make the serious, sad, acoustic stuff. Their approval made me feel like this “emotional artist” personality was my true sound.
The problem with this is that so many artists in the acoustic singer-songwriter genre are making the same stuff. The thing that my mentor labelled as “slow self-analysis ballads.” I cringed to hear my songs put in that category, but I knew that it was partly true. I was conforming to a sound that was beautiful and easy, but it was everywhere. And although it was me, it wasn’t the most exciting thing about me.
As I grow older, I realise that the whole point of being an artist is to look outside yourself. To notice things about life. Of course our own perspectives and experiences are important — they’re what give our work it’s own personality and sound. But it really is about interacting with and responding to the real world, not just navel-gazing and hoping someone will join in with you.
Gloom is not my personal brand. I am going to Un-Gloom this year, in fact. Through the first third of this Tiny Song project I’ve realised that people like it when I make fun things. People like it when I share my sense of humour and my daily observations through my songs.
Basically, what I’m trying to say is:
YOU DON’T NEED TO MAKE SAD STUFF TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.
Now, time to ungloom.
