The Secret Superpower of Great Songs
At all points in a song, chords, melody and lyric should work together to create a consistent experience. Where the chord progression cadences to the tonic, the melodic phrase comes to a close and the lyric topic finishes, with a strong rhyme like a cherry on top. Each element sends the same message as the others, therefore reinforcing to the listener that we know where we want to take them and we are completely competent in getting them there. This close interaction between music and lyric is what we songwriters call ‘prosody,’ and it is an essential element in emotionally impactful songs.
How we create prosody in our songs depends on the musical and lyrical choices we make. A minor chord may suggest struggle or complication, a bittersweetness or trouble brewing. The lyric, colored by that chord, now carries subtle hues of sophistication, depth, or richness, where a major triad would have left it two-dimensional or trite. We reach a new section in the song and our chords burst forth with new intensity, giving our lyric a good shot in the arm. Our lyric will always be heard through the lens of the music, and so much of prosody is about feeling innately the message our music sends.
Music consumers are not clueless when it comes to these messages. After all, we’re all socialized beings, having learned appropriate speech and body language from the verbal and nonverbal signals of others. Prosody with our songs works in the same way, and as we writers experience the verbal and nonverbal communication from our listeners, we begin to understand what parts of our songs translate, and what parts still feels like a stranger in a foreign land.
As a songwriter and educator, a question that really interests me is “can prosody be learned?” There are critics who believe the art of songwriting can’t be learned, and either a songwriter has ‘it’ or they don’t. But if that’s the case, I should never have written anything much more impactful than the first few songs I wrote. I had plenty of theory knowledge, skill on my instrument, understanding of basic songwriting craft, and a decent voice. Tools alone did not produce better and better songs. Tools, their application in consistent practice, and presentation of my songs to others did.
If prosody can be learned and achieved with greater and greater consistency, it’s the destination, the threshold at which we musicians connect several thousand hours of application with our innate sense for chords and how they flow, melodic phrasing, and lyrical style. We have to struggle through songs where our listener doesn’t have a clue what we’re talking about, and in receiving their feedback, determine where the lyric went wrong and correct it. We need to get that rhyme scheme wrong, choose that chord progression that’s too weird, or write that stagnant melody to understand why prosody didn’t happen. Then, we need to hear that positive feedback that lets us know when the listener felt something, disappeared into the world we made for them, or simply enjoyed themselves for a moment during our song. Eventually, we begin to grasp what makes those moments, in terms of craft, and we figure out how to lengthen them, magnify them, and dwell in them. That’s the time during which we’re figuring out our style as an artist.
Prosody is a magical moment where, in terms of our songwriting, the stars align. But we don’t have to know how that feels or looks in order to get there. We just have to cross off the days, one by one, doing the work of learning tools of the craft, applying them to new songs, and playing them for interested listeners. After a while, we’ll get to look back and see how far we’ve come.
Now that you’ve learned about prosody you can also learn some Simple Tools to Write from a Title.
Stay creative,
Andrea Stolpe
