[The series of posts on this topic is on my Musings on Music blog].
In terms of the connection between language and music, there is a finite number of rhythms that can be extracted from poetry and prose—probably in any language. If you read a passage in a book out loud, sometimes you will come upon phrases that are inherently musical.
The musicality of language (prosody) arises from the stresses on syllables, which have to be either on an upbeat or a downbeat in order for them to be coherent. In musical contexts, you can shape language however you want, and make things wrong for the sake of making them wrong for artistic effect, or emphasizing particular vowels when singing them. Ignoring strict meter and using a roving bar line is a cool way of approaching language in different ways in a musical context. Rhythmic displacement is one of the main tools for improvisation. For example, starting a phrase on an upbeat sounds less square than starting on a downbeat. Bass players are known to do this as well leaving the first eighth or quarter note off the beginning of the bar.
Yesterday I was checking out Elvis Costello's new album, A Boy Named If. He's definitely evolved into a more “traditional” songwriter who focuses on storytelling using primarily an acoustic guitar, singing with vibrato, as opposed to his more punk-ish early days in the late 70s where he heaved the vocals (at least in live performances). His new songs are typically wordy, yet certain lines form hooks, such as "Imagine me, and I'll imagine you" in the title track, emerges as a clear hook, or are otherwise plucked from the rhythms inherent in the song titles—as was typical in the Tin Pan Alley and Brill Building days. I personally like this style, even if it might be too stiff, with one note per syllable. Music notation tends to steer the music in that direction, as opposed to the more melismatic approach to slur a whole flurry of notes under one vowel.
Anecdotally, Elvis Costello has been known to be quite methodical with songwriting as Composition—probably inspired by collaborations with Burt Bacharach and the Brodsky Quartet. When he collaborated with Brian Eno in 1995 he showed up with written charts, leaving Eno wondering what his role was. Eno's approach to lyrics has always been more stochastic, using scraps laying around. Arranging the scraps in certain sequences is what makes the meaning. With Costello, it's always about direct storytelling. Eno noted that he was loquacious, which is interesting in the sense that Costello songs are really someone doing lots of talking.
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I've always thought the best way to write pop music is from the ground up from a beat, or even a ticking metronome, and scatting or rapping over the top of it in nonsense syllables as placeholders. If you rap a title idea it usually becomes the chorus as well as verses. This way you can perform them together as a counterpoint. (Another economical pop song trick) Sometimes a story emerges in the way the lines commingle, like the ingredients in a recipe blend together, combined with umami elements and from caramelizing, the corollary of playing with sound in a studio. It's very alchemical.
Here are a few syllabic mappings of isolated phrases set against a very basic beat which demonstrate how language can drive rhythms. When you play through the entire piece you start to hear how it could be one song even though there is no particular meaning in any of it. You can later swap out all the words and it can be a work in itself. It's the rhythmic framework that ties it all together. In some sense, the intended meaning of the words might not matter if the music is heard or felt more than the words. One could take a shopping list and sing the words rhythmically to get a sketch of something. (I think someone has done this but I can’t recall who). And you could sing it in such a way where people might not even make out what you’re saying, and it might not matter.
Notes on the rehearsal marks in the score:
"What did you say?" This is naturally spoken quickly with the last sixteenth note inflected upwards, as all questions are.
The phrase stretched over triplets is more emphatic.
Saying "I want" is typically said on an upbeat. Saying it on a downbeat would mean, "I want you to stay—don't listen to the others.
"Don't ask why" is a upbeat phrase. It sounds odd otherwise, but it can be used in a musical context as a way to displace the phrase by an eighth note. (Anyone that uses dictation knows about these funny little errors. This had to do with similar rhythms in words and phrases forming soundalikes, mondegreens, etc.
Changes the "I" emphasis.
Secon-person emphasis, although in music it can be placed on an upbeat.
Feel free to download and map your own lyrics.
Takeaways:
George Steiner said, "Each language speaks the world in its own ways. Each edifies worlds and counter-worlds in its own modes. The polyglot is a freer man."
Simple rhymes are one of the most primitive aspects of language, as they are inherently musical.
The interchangeability of music and language serves to make ideas more salient.
I found this interesting even though I don’t write music. I teach English as a foreign language (TEFL) now and the ideas about language were eye-opening.