Lyrics: How Much Do They Mean?

Last month, Entertainment Weekly ran a piece by Rob Brunner and Chris Willman, where the two scribes debated the merits of rock lyrics. Perhaps the best take on rock lyrics comes from Lemmy, who once said that the only reason that Motorhead songs have lyrics is because the record company wouldn't allow the band to release an album of instrumentals. Or maybe Chuck Klosterman is more on the money. In his excellent essay collection Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs, Klosterman explains the significance of country music by noting how the lyrics of country songs connect directly with the intended audience. Klosterman notes that while many deride country lyrics, to their intended audience the words not only matter, but are usually the essence of the song.

In the EW piece, Brunner takes the ‘lyrics are piffle' position, while Willman represents the defense. Brunner dominates the debate, perhaps exaggerating his position to be provocative. I have to hedge on how much of Brunner's stance is exaggerated, due to his early implicit admission of an apparent inability to understand the English language. Brunner, on page 42 of the article (which ran in the May 7, 2004 issue of the magazine), attempts to illustrate his point that rock lyrics are crap with this snippet from Bob Dylan's "Idiot Wind": "you're an idiot, babe/it's a wonder that you still know how to breathe." Brunner asks, "What does that even mean?" (emphasis in article).

Geez, Rob, maybe that she's so stupid that even the task of breathing seems beyond her? Later on Brunner assails Led Zeppelin ("No Quarter") and Outkast ("Hey Ya!") in making his case against rock lyrics as having much in the way of value. Putting aside the merit of the lyrics in those songs, this shows how easy it is to take the Brunner position. Let's face it, there are plenty more songs with lousy or mundane lyrics than gems. This alone does not render lyrics pointless, it only illustrates how hard it is to write good ones.

Because of the ample ammunition any anti-lyric person can fire, Willman certainly was in the less advantageous position. Nevertheless, Willman doesn't do much to state a case for his position, spending part of his time trying to return Brunner's volleys and the remainder spouting vague generalizations as to the importance of lyrics in rock songs. He even says that they're poetry!

In the midst of their rock-crit squabble, Brunner hits on the point that really is at the heart of this debate (or, better put, shows the folly of the debate):

"They take their so-so words and really sell them with emotionally rich vocals that convey nuance and meaning -- depth that just isn't there when you read it written out. Music, after all, is ultimately about sound: rhythm, melody, texture, the timbre of the human voice. It seems obvious, but so many critics seem to forget this, spending too much time trying to make lyrics appear deep and meaningful. But if mere words were enough to say it, why have the music part at all?"

At one level, Brunner is quite insightful -- rock lyrics are contextual. A lyric in a song serves a purpose within a musical scheme. At another level, he's a bit off. Just because lyrics may not always stand scrutiny standing alone, that does not mean that lyrics can't be deep or can't be meaningful (or both simultaneously). While Brunner is probably right that critics spend too much time looking at the lyrics, often at the exclusion of the music and how the lyrics fit with the music, this isn't to say they don't have importance.

First, lyrics can be great just by how they enhance the sound of a song. I think that T. Rex and Beck, for example, have great lyrics. If you're looking for meaning, you'll be left wanting, but both have wit and, more importantly, they have rhythm that works with their songs to make them more entertaining and enjoyable.

Second, lyrics also add to the catchiness of a song. Or, rather, they are capable of adding to the catchiness of a song. Even a bizarre, non-sequitur lyric can add to a song if it provides a hook. For example, the lines "your love clipped and distant/your love, a two-headed cow" from R.E.M.'s "Pilgrimage" sure look silly, but they sound cool and fit with the music hand in glove. This notion applies equally to innocuous bubblegum lyrics – it's not always what the words say, it's how they hit the ear when accompanied by a beat and a melody. Conversely, some of the most literate lyrics in the world, that might look great on the printed page, fall flat when they aren't properly tailored to the music. When that happens the music may stick in the head, but the lyrics become mere babble, undermining the song rather than elevating it.

Third, some lyrics work independently. Whether it's the wordplay of a Cole Porter, Ron Mael or Steven Merritt, or the story telling of Tom T. Hall or Stan Ridgway, or the political commentary of Joe Strummer or Billy Bragg, or the direct commentary on love and life of Hank Williams, there are lots of lyrics that are just plain great. Are they poetry? I dunno -- maybe it's quasi-poetry.

Or maybe there's another way to look at it. Great lyrics don't have to stand alone. Sure, some might, but that's not a requirement. Moreover, great songs don't need to have great lyrics, even if the lyrics contribute to the greatness of the song. Case in point: in a sidebar to their article, Brunner and Willman give examples of songs that they believe support their positions. Amongst Brunner's examples are Kraftwerk's "Trans Europe Express" and Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me". And if you parse the lines of those songs for literary merit you'd be as successful as the Bush administration trying to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. However, in the context of each song, the lyrics are brilliant. The matter-of-fact lyrics on the Kraftwerk song contrast the otherworldly electronic music that they add both wit and warmth to the proceedings. As for the Cheap Trick classic, the song is an homage to more innocent pop of days gone by, and shows that swoony cornball romanticism endures even in the rock era. [I should also note at this point that Willman cites Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" as an example of great rock lyrics, further undermining his stature in my eyes.]

This doesn't even get to lyricists like The Fall's Mark E. Smith or Pavement's Stephen Malkmus who have developed unique syntax and semantics, that can be impenetrable as often as insightful, but also work to create a persona – in Smith's case, working class intellectual, in Malkmus's case middle class intellectual in-jokester. Or Mike "The Streets" Garner, who manages to seemingly create a form of musical literature, with his a geezer persona that leads to funny and smart lyrics, and also develops a fully realized character.

Ultimately, this discussion is akin to bleacher bums arguing over whether pitching is 75 percent of baseball. Lyrics are what they are and their importance will vary according to the individual listener. Although I've spent most of this essay defending them, I'm definitely someone who is drawn in by the music first. After all, great music with poor lyrics still might work, but great lyrics and a lousy tune are a waste of time.

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