* "there's hope for us all...."
The subject-line might lead you to think this is gonna be a post-NC-primary political ramble -- but no; we'll leave that to Daily Kos and the like. If you're a Nick Lowe fan, however, you probably also recognize that quote as the chorus-lyric of what may be the finest song Lowe has ever written. There'd be a boatload of arguments against such an assessment, no doubt -- not so much against "Hope For Us All" (from Lowe's latest labum, At My Age), but in favor of landmark Lowe tunes such as "Cruel To Be Kind" or "I Knew The Bride" or "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding", or somewhat lesser-known gems such as "All Men Are Liars" or "High On A Hilltop" or "The Beast In Me", or any number of other selections in Lowe's catalogue. Trying to single out his best song is a bit like trying to pick out the best peak in the Colorado Rockies; the whole range is pretty spectacular, you know. I come today, however, to praise "Hope For Us All", and to write at some length as to precisely why. In particular, I'd like to present this song as an example to all aspiring lyricists of just how well a song can be written. Which is not to suggest everyone should go out and write a song like this -- imitation obviously isn't the point in art, and besides, it took Nick a long time to get this good -- but rather to posit "Hope For Us All" as an apex toward which to strive. Let's start with the simple part. Almost every great song has a simple part. In this case it's the chorus. Lowe builds everything around these straightforward but heartfelt eleven words: If even I That says a lot, with true brevity, a rare commodity in songwriting. From there, things get complicated, from a craft perspective -- but you'd never know it as a listener, because Lowe makes the whole thing sound so natural, so effortless. Looking at things closely, I see three distinct examples of real brilliance which take this song from the simple to the sublime: 1. Metric diction. That's a complicated-sounding term to describe the rhythm Lowe employs in the line which bridges the verse to the chorus. It's a classic poetic turn, really -- akin to that phrase "iambic pentameter" you may occasionally hear in reference to Shakespeare and other masters (though I don't believe the syllabic pattern quite bears out this example as fitting the specific "iambic pentameter" numeric designation). The intent and effect, though, is very similar. After starting the song with a rather unassuming couplet -- "People are remarking on the change that's come over me/It can be explained very easily" -- he digs into the meter on the next line: OUT of the BLUE someone's COME into MY lonely WORLD and now I'M walking tall And if even I There is, of course, the obligatory rhyme ("tall" with "all"), but unlike most songs, the rhyme isn't the crux of the structure; rather, it gracefully marries the other elements of language that are driving the song. He repeats the form in the second verse, but with a different line (which gets repeated later in the song): I must adMIT there were TIMES when all I ever DID was climb THE wall The meter, and the careful choice of words to fit that meter -- i.e., "metric diction" -- puts a skip in the song's step, sets it apart, seamlessly segues the listener from one stage to the next. You can hear how well it works immediately; taking a closer look shows just how clever and not-so-easy it is to pull off. 2. The bridge. Plenty of songs falter here; as a mostly amateur songwriter myself, I find it to be the toughest thing to write well, to create sensibly or naturally. Nick uses a simple little trick here to bring it home: He ties his chorus to the end of the bridge. It's basically a two-verse bridge, kind of a classic "middle-eight." The first stanza is the setup: "Even in my darkest hour/There was still a light somewhere/Letting me know by its glow/That I'd find comfort there." Nothing particularly special to that, though the internal-rhyme of "know" and "glow" within the third line is a nice touch. It's the second part that does the trick. "I walked a lonely street/Waiting for love to call/And if even I can find someone/There's hope for us all." The catch in writing a bridge is that you have to find your way back into the heart of the song. Lowe does this with exquisite ease, simply setting up the latter half of his middle eight to flow right back into his chorus. I wish I could do that. 3. The grand finale. I use that term loosely and hesitantly, because it suggests the sort of overblown-instrumental-bombast conclusion that's common to modern pop but is almost entirely absent from Lowe's repertoire. What he does at the end of "Hope For Us All" is far more subtle, but also far more grand, from a lyrical perspective. He appears to be just returning to the chorus, which is generally what most songs will do as they finish or fade out. But wait, there's something more here: But if even I This is transcendent on multiple levels. First, he perfectly fits three new lines into the fundamental framework of his initial three lines -- and not just tacked on to the front or the end, but intertwined. The lines of his primary chorus are lines 1, 4, and 6 here. What he's woven into the narrative with lines 2, 3, and 5 doesn't sound out-of-place; on the contrary, it sounds like the whole six-line stanza could've been the original chorus. Further, look at the words he's using here. When was the last time you heard someone sing "feckless" in a pop song? And it's precisely the right word: "having no sense of responsibility; indifferent; lazy" (per definition 2 at dictionary.com) -- a spot-on description of the man who's being transformed in the course of the song. Even better, perhaps, is the way he describes finding a true love: "Someone to check his fall." Again, this is not typical language, and it's all the more compelling for its singularity. Finally, consider the emotional impact of that expanded chorus, which is ultimately all that really counts. Instead of just returning to the same words you've already heard a couple of times, he hits you with something that makes you listen fresh again -- and which portrays the character more dramatically and vividly than anywhere else in the song. This is a guy who's desperate, who's feckless, "who's thrown away every single chance he's ever had." And yet even he has found someone. Indeed, there must be hope for us all. adios, P.S. -- A live performance of the song: Posted by peter on May 7, 2008 11:50 AM | Permalink |
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Comments
Peter, this is wonderful stuff. I love how you analyze Nick's songwriting craft as if it were a piece of fine poetry -- which in my opinion it is. I too love how he shifts the syllabic stresses to fit his metric rhythm. My personal theory is that a lot of this is influenced by his having been a bass player -- bassists intuit rhythm and syncopation much deeper than most of us do.
Nick may have picked up a lot of these tricks from classic country and R&B songwriters, but hardly anybody else in modern pop music pulls off such smart, subtle effects. Most listeners, even Nick fans, don't pick up on the skill it takes. Kudos!
Holly
Posted by: Holly Hughes | May 9, 2008 10:53 AM