I hadn’t consciously changed my routine. I hadn’t even begun to put in significant time at the piano. But knowing I’d have to write at least one song every two days, my mind was poised to spring like a steel trap on song titles, interesting phrases, and threads of melody that crossed my path.

This deadline harnessed everything I’ve learned about songwriting in the past ten years. It set all the prepared gears in motion.

Over time, having survived writer’s block dozens of times, having also enjoyed feverishly productive periods, I’ve come to rely on six small self-reminders to keep ideas coming. When I feel blocked, it’s because I’ve allowed one of these to lapse.

6 Ways to Maintain a Steady Stream of New Songs

1. Learn your craft—the more you know about how songs are constructed, the sharper you’ll get at seeing the potential in a single lyric or melodic phrase. Craft also helps you quickly identify gaps and fill them in so that you can finish drafts, stash them, and move on to the next song idea. Study songwriting books, analyze your favorite songs. Experiment with new rhyme schemes and song forms. Also read books on poetry, fiction, copywriting, music theory, and beyond.

2. Read—reading poetry, magazine articles, and fiction can all lead to serendipitous discovery. It’s also an enjoyable way to hone your instincts for description, dialogue, and the rhythms of language.

3. Listen—and I mean really listen. Sit down with earphones and a piece of music—and nothing else. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and listen. This is surprisingly difficult to do at first, but stay with it. Listen to at least one song every day, a whole album if you can.

4. Write every day—on days when you feel dry or blocked, have practice tasks to fall back on. Take out a guitar manual and learn some new chords. Do an exercise from William Russo’s Composing Music. Free write for 10 minutes. Revise one of your earlier songs. Start a songwriting prompt from this site. No need to wait for a thunderbolt—you can make songs happen whenever you want.

5. Set a clear goal and deadline—Deadlines force us to quit procrastinating and produce. Thanks to Album Writing Month, I’m constantly thinking about whether or not I’m on track to complete all 14 of my FAWM songs by February 29th. This exerts constant pressure to keep moving. Why not join the other 6,000+ songwriters and I? It’s not too late.

6. Seek peer pressure—another element that makes FAWM so motivating is the company of fellow songwriters. A group environment provides support and keeps you accountable for putting in your time and doing your work. Since I’m a loner by instinct. I stay motivated by reading books like Do the Work and watching documentaries about military training regimens. The military knows discipline.

Repeat the above steps in a continuous cycle. Build them into your daily life.

To recap:

1. Study your craft
2. Read
3. Listen
4. Write every day
5. Set a clear goal and deadline
6. Seek peer pressure

How do you keep ideas coming?

I’d like to hear about what keeps you sharp and motivated. Noticed any patterns? Leave a comment and let us know.

canal photo by Tanaka Juuyoh

During February Album Writing Month (FAWM), songwriters sprint to complete an album’s worth of original songs by the last day of February. It’s like Novel Writing Month for songwriters: a month-long marathon.

FAWM’s great for songwriters who need a shot of adrenaline. If you’ve found yourself stuck, creatively blocked, overly perfectionistic, or otherwise holding yourself back, here’s your chance. Jump in, get your hands dirty, and push your comfort zones.

Without a deadline it’s easy to procrastinate while songs stall and languish. FAWM gives you a deadline; it’s a bullwhip smartly applied to the buttocks.

C’mon, sign up. I dare you.

Here are some common objections to FAWM:

• I don’t have any ideas. There are plenty of songwriting prompts on this website, and the FAWM website offers ideas as well. We don’t join FAWM thinking “I know exactly what to write!” Instead it’s a commitment to find things to write about. Have faith and take the leap.
• I don’t have the time. A song every two days is a fast pace for some. If you’re tight on time, you might have to make sacrifices: take an extended absence from Twitter, temporarily nuke your Facebook account, throw your television out the window, stay up just a little later at night, get up just a little earlier in the morning. Need more ways to clear time in your calendar? I’ve got a post for that.
• I only write lyrics/I only compose music. Either is fine. Feel free to focus on your specialty, or to look for a fellow FAWMER to collaborate with.

The important thing to remember is that FAWM is all about process. It’s not about creating perfectly crafted work; it’s about taking songs from idea to execution quickly and completely.

Immersion teaches well, and FAWM will hone your songwriting skills by putting them into immediate action. Even better, though: you’ll learn what you’re capable of when you’re determined.

You have 29 days to write 14 and 1/2 songs. Go!

Technique and ability alone do not get you to the top — it is the willpower that is the most important. This willpower you cannot buy with money or be given by others — it rises from your heart.

-Junko Tabei, first woman to summit Everest

1. Clear distractions.

When sitting down to practice or write, find a suitable space: someplace quiet, uncluttered, and free of distractions.

Gather all the tools you’re likely to need and leave everything else behind. Nonessentials will only distract you and weigh you down.

Cell phones should be out of sight, out of earshot, and out of reach. If you absolutely must use a computer, disconnect it from the internet.

In addition to a welcoming and functional space, strive for the right headspace: take a few deep breaths, clear your mind, and commit to the day’s work.

He must be made to concentrate, otherwise he gets all mixed up. It is not genius he lacks, but the capacity to sit still.

–Franz Liszt’s paramour, Caroline

2. Define your objective.

Remain aware of this task during your session. Write it down in bold black letters if you have to. This especially applies to practicing your instrument. Guitarists especially tend to noodle and fidget.

It’s perfectly alright to veer off your intended path and crash around in the woods a bit—experiments teach better than rote learning—but make sure you’re able to find your way back when you’re done exploring.

3. Decide how much time you’re going to spend.

Setting a time limit helps for two reasons: a) it prevents you from giving up prematurely and b) knowing that your labors have a reasonable end will help you give yourself fully to your task.

Choose a duration, set a timer and don’t let up until it runs down to zero.

4. Encore!

The best way to follow up a productive day is by having another productive day.

Keep a practice log to track your progress from day to day. Just a few sentences about your challenges, obstacles, questions, and victories (large and small) will do.

5. Enjoy the process.

Is it always going to be fun? No. If you’re working hard and pushing at the edge of your abilities, expect to feel like you’re in over your head. Relish that feeling, because pushing limits will make you a better songwriter. It’ll also enrich your life.

Your battles as a songwriter may be more abstract than summiting Everest, but the trials of a serious artist are every bit as trying. Take pride not only in your results, but in your effort.

Believe in yourself. Stay determined. The steepest challenges reward endurance, so keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Recap

1. Clear distractions.
2. Define your objective.
3. Decide how much time to spend.
4. Do it again.
5. Enjoy the process, even the temporary failures.

photo by Ilker Ender.

Good.

Harness that rage and prove me wrong. Dig into your song idea file, hose the mold off a stalled song, stick in some new spark plugs and give ‘er a kickstart. Then do figure-eights on my front lawn!

I’ll take angry e-mails and lost sales any day, as long as those losses mean that you’re writing. And not just writing, but getting songs done.

By the way: despite the dramatic title, if you read the article you already know that I don’t urge anyone to actually physically destroy their work. Matt Blick and Jeff Shattuck left thoughtful comments that you should check out, too.

The burning portion is mental: it’s best to finish songs, then immediately start more. If a song stalls for days, weeks and months until it’s effectively dead, get it out of your workspace.

Never let the weeds grow higher than your garden.

And thanks for the angry letters—I mean that. It’s good for my heart to see that kind of passion. Songwriting means the world to me as an art and a vocation… It’s great to know I’m not the only one who cares.

For a decade I’d been starting lyrics, poems, recordings, even books—and then dropping everything to chase more ideas before the previous ones were finished. I was forever in Limbo, in transit from project to project to project until my hard drive was like a labyrinth of stale, rotting, half-eaten songs. Horrible.

Eventually I shattered that hard drive on a wooden floor, and all those tangled loose ends were cleanly severed in an instant. Looking back now, I wonder whether I subconsciously drop-kicked that laptop on purpose just so I could finally get free of my own past failures.

If your notebooks are cluttered with dozens or hundreds of half-finished songs like mine were, consider throwing it all out the window.

No, really. Call your own bluff. If you were going to finish that song you started a month ago, you would’ve done so already. If you were going to take action on that lyric idea you scribbled on an envelope last May, you would’ve done so. Last May. Stop slowing yourself down with dead weight. Pack up those old ideas and get them out of your workspace.

Box them up, move them to the back of your closet, drop them into a new folder on your computer called “Archive”. Whatever it takes. Just like that, all your unfinished work is now cleared away.

What happens next is the best part.

It’s just you, a cleared writing space, and a virginal notebook. Now you can breathe again.

Now you just need one song idea to pursue all the way from 0:00 to the double barline. With nothing else on your plate to distract you, you can focus on that one song and do what it takes to finish. Even if finishing means you have to write some dummy lines.

There’s nothing wrong with having multiple songs in the pipeline—unless your pipeline’s clogged. If you find yourself with five or more songs that stall out in the middle, pick just one to devote all your energies to. Otherwise, it’s way too easy to jump from project to project whenever one of your creations gets difficult.

Life’s short. Finish the songs you start.

I’ve been thinking about this name change for months now, and finally decided that it had to be done—song written really captures the topic and the spirit of what I want this place to be in a way that The Halted Clock didn’t.

Consistently finishing songs is the toughest part of songwriting. Each song presents its own unique obstacles, whether those are related to equipment shortcomings, knowledge gaps, or resistance that the writer feels from within. The goal is always to finish the song.

Renaming the site “song written” ensures that I never forget that my job is to constantly find ways that we can hone our skills, grow more confident, and push through the neurotic creative blocks that all of us face from time to time. We write and rewrite and rewrite again, but the goal is always to finish.

I’ll miss the clock textures that used to live behind the banner up at the top of the page, but Gears will keep its sprockets. Speaking of Gears, I announced toward the end of last year that I’d be dissolving it and folding its articles into new tutorials and articles.

Nevermind.

Just before New Year’s Eve, the page started attracting lots of links and traffic. Every day this month, a thousand or more StumbleUpon users have poured through the page and, despite the usual fast-and-furious nature of Stumblers, they’ve actually been sticking around, checking out the rest of the site, and subscribing. There’s more interest in the Gears idea than I expected—and just in time.

Since people seem to be getting value out of that section of the site, I’ll continue spending time and energy on it.

To the long-time readers: thanks for sticking with me as the site continues to evolve. I work hard to make the song more legible, attractive, and helpful.

Now let’s all get back to making 2012 a great year for song.

Here are some questions you’ll want to ask yourself to take stock of last year. Do yourself a big favor and try to answer them as honestly as you can; be straight with both your successes and your shortcomings.

1. Did I achieve the resolutions I set for myself in 2011?

2. How many songs did I finish? Don’t list any fragments or half-finished works here. They don’t count.

3. Could I have finished more songs than I did? Have I been procrastinating?

4. How happy am I with the quality of the lyrics, melody, etc.?

5. In what ways did I get my songs heard by others this past year?

6. When I did sit down to write, did impatience and lack of focus scatter my energy?

7. In what ways did I upgrade my skills in composing melodies, arrangement, and lyric writing during 2011?

8. Have I taken time to listen to new music and learn from the strengths of musicians and lyricists I admire?

9. Have any bad habits or addictions held me back?

10. How much time did I spend on the web, watching TV, playing video games, or otherwise consuming idle entertainments? How does that compare to the amount of time I spent writing songs and honing my craft?

11. Did I schedule and manage my time to make sure I could devote time to songwriting?

12. How badly do I really want to write songs? Is it my true artistic calling?

13. Am I holding myself back with fears of commercial or artistic failure?

If you sit down and spend some reflective, quiet time with these questions, you’ll likely discover that you haven’t yet harnessed and focused all your creative powers. This is good news—it means your best work is still ahead of you.

Stay tuned. In a few days we’ll arm you with all the tools you need to make 2012 your breakthrough year.

Here I’ve collected together some punchy song titles that stand a good chance of attracting curious clicks. I’ve also spent a few minutes putting each title under a microscope to see what makes them great.

Here we go.

Cold Roses

Subversion of a cliché makes this one interesting. Roses turn up so often in poetry and song lyrics as to be meaningless—but cold roses? We haven’t heard that before. The word “cold” is engagingly tactile, and the “o” sound assonance gives the title a memorable ring.

You can find “Cold Roses” on the album of the same name by Ryan Adams.

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

Here’s a tempting title: two things people crave, things that seem small and pleasurable—but in the right doses, over time, either one can kill. Rufus Wainwright found a connection here between innocent appearance and underlying danger that often goes unnoticed.

There’s a bit of music in the words here, too; I like the consonance at the end of “cigarette” and “chocolate”; also the assonance between “cigarettes” and “milk”.

Slow Like Honey

A seductive title from Fiona Apple. Just three words, but here Ms. Apple manages to pack in a lot of sensory information. It’s suggestive of motion, taste, color, viscosity, translucency and sex. This is the kind of brevity that would impress even a haiku master.

This title also creates some intrigue by omission. We know that something, somebody, or some experience is like honey, but she doesn’t tell us what. The title serves as a kind of implied promise that Fiona will tell us more if we listen.

Night of the Lotus Eaters

This one’s got enough mystique to give me chills. “Night of the Lotus Eaters”—now that’s a dark, mysterious title for you.

The geek in me adores the literary reference, but it’s immediately appealing even if you’ve never read Tennyson or the Odyssey. You can find this song title on Nick Cave’s Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!!

Cannibal’s Hymn

These two words are worth a thousand pictures. An air of the sacred and a stab of dread combine to make “Cannibal’s Hymn” an irresistible title. You can find it on Nick Cave’s album The Lyre of Orpheus/Abattoir Blues.

Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye

Here’s a title written as a dramatic line of dialogue.

Leonard Cohen was a published author and poet by the time he released his first album, Songs of Leonard Cohen, and it shows—the album’s lyrics are among the very few songs that stand up under literary scrutiny.

A good title makes us feel something. This one manages to set up an entire situation in very limited space.

The First Cut is the Deepest

What a great title for a song about breaking up (and reluctantly reuniting). Cat Stevens wrote this one; versions were recorded by Rod Stewart, Sheryl Crow, and others. Describing emotional hurt in such raw terms also hints at backstory: if the narrator thinks of the relationship as an open wound now, we know that this narrator was deeply invested in the unnamed lover.

All Along the Watchtower

Out of several evocative lines in this classic Bob Dylan tune, Dylan chose the right one to serve as title. The syllables themselves have an intrinsic rhythm you could almost nod your head to, and the vowel sounds are beautiful. Slow down for a second and read this title again, aloud so you can taste it: “All Along the Watchtower.” Great title.

The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull

This rich title comes courtesy of droning, slow-tempo metal band Earth. It’s apparently a reference to Judges 14:8, in which Samson notices bees swarming on the carcass of a lion that he had torn apart with his hands.

There are three really resonant nouns in this one: Honey, Lion, and Skull. It’s a very weird and interesting combination.

Bridge to the Beyond

“Bridge to the Beyond” is the title of an eerie track from John Zorn’s The Gift. It features creepy chanting alternating with angelic falsettos from Mike Patton. Like many of Zorn’s pieces, the title and the music fit together hand-in-glove. The title’s interesting in itself, and hearing the track makes it even better.

Lawyers, Guns, and Money

Here’s proof that a list of nouns can be interesting even without any adjectives or verbs to help them out. The track’s from Warren Zevon’s Excitable Boy.

My Funny Valentine

A playful and affectionate title from a Rodgers & Hart show tune. Some song titles get along just fine without adjectives, but in this case the adjective works to really make the title great. “My Valentine” is much less interesting. “My Pretty Valentine” would  be a bit detached. “My Funny Valentine” is perfect—and so warm that it’s hard to read the title without smiling.

It’s been recorded by Frank Sinatra, Miles Davis, and has since gone on to become a jazz standard. It’s been recorded over 600 times. Not bad…

Lantern Marsh

This is the title of an instrumental ambient masterpiece, named after an actual place near Brian Eno’s home. What’s fascinating to me about this one is that the word “lantern” insinuates that the marsh is dark—an impression reinforced by the track itself. You can find this one on Eno’s Ambient 4.

Kiss Me Like a Stranger

There are at least a hundred different kinds of kiss—maybe more. I’m still miffed at Tom Waits for calling a song on his latest album “Kiss Me” when he could’ve called it “Kiss Me Like a Stranger”.

Ehh, hey Nick, we’re, eh, down here at the barber shop and Tommy’s got this amazing glass eye he found at the pawn shop and you should come down and check it out.

“Kiss Me” should’ve been “Kiss Me Like a Stranger.” You can find the track on the man’s 2011 release Bad as Me.

God’s Away on Business

Another Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan original. There are few more loaded words than “God”, and here that symbol’s used in a way that completely confounds our expectations.

Trampled Rose

Another Tom Waits original. “Trampled Rose” is a great example of what happens when you take a symbolic image—even a cliché—and add unexpected modifiers. Like “Cold Roses” above, it’s just counterintuitive enough to sound fresh.

Dead and Lovely

Omitting the subject of the song and just describing it with a few tantalizing words can really make us curious about what the title’s hinting at—as we saw above with “Slow Like Honey.” Here Tom Waits pulls a similar trick with “Dead and Lovely.”

Long, Cool Woman in a Black Dress

This track comes courtesy of The Hollies (and of my dad, who cited this as a favorite song title). Consider how much less interesting the title would be if they’d called this one “Woman in a Black Dress”. Two adjectives have come together to really make this one sing.

It’s interesting that the title tags this woman as “Long” instead of “Tall.” Could it be that this title subconsciously makes us imagine this woman horizontal?

A Boy Named Sue

Nothing like a reversal of gender expectations to add seasoning to a title. This one was written by Shel Silverstein and performed by Johnny Cash.

A Singer Must Die

The threat of violence makes this Leonard Cohen title a real killer.

What Else?

I know I’m missing some titles on this list. I know because I originally wanted this list to be 106 items long and had to cut it down for sanity’s sake. What song titles do you dig, and what makes them awesome? Let me know in the comments below.

Phil Swann has over thirty years of experience in show business. He’s been a lounge piano player, a commercial songwriter, a novelist, an Off-Broadway composer, and a creative workshop instructor. Phil’s songs have been recorded by Clay Aiken, Neal McCoy, Lee Ann Womack, and Blake Shelton, among others.

Now, for the first time, he’s also a recording artist in his own right.

Phil’s first album, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars, features smoky, Dean Martin-era jazz tunes co-written with several of his colleagues, including the legendary Paul Williams. I called Phil in September to talk about Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars and the man’s many other creative projects. Along the way we talked about cowriting, artistic freedom, and fearless integrity.

_____________________________________________________________

Hi, Phil, this is Nicholas from The Halted Clock; how are ya?

Hi, Nicholas, how are you?

Great. I see you just had your release party for your album.

Yeah, I was in New York doing that and opening a show off-broadway, so it was a busy time.

Walking down 42^nd seeing a poster for Play it Cool must’ve been exciting.

Well, it was especially because back about 150 years ago I lived there as a poor, mostly unemployed musician/songwriter. I don’t know where you’re from, Nicholas, if you know New York City, but I used to live in Hell’s Kitchen when it was truly Hell’s Kitchen. [laughs] Back before they Disneyfied it.

Since then you’ve had quite a career. This new release, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars, is your first solo album, so that’s a landmark.

Yeah, I tell folks, it’s an appropriate way of dealing with a midlife crisis. Cheaper than a Lamborghini and a nineteen-year-old girlfriend… I don’t think my wife would like that. Yeah, I’ve been writing songs for other people for… oh my gosh, I signed my first publishing deal in 1992. I’ve really focused on writing songs for other people and producing records and things like that. And the time just felt right; there were some songs in my catalogue, Nick, that I feared would never get heard unless I did them, so I wanted to put them out there. And the other reason—the really honest reason—is that… I just wanted to make a record!

It’s a fine record, I gotta say.

Thank you very much.

Now the title is Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars and that’s from the track “Middle Man,” actually. That was one of the songs that stuck with me. I see you brought in some friends and cowriters to work with you on this too.

Yeah, there were songs… it was one of those situations, Nick, like I said I had some songs in my catalogue I wanted to record; I wanted to capture a style. And I had some songs I planned to record but as songwriters often do—getting ready for the record and all that—I ended up writing new songs. “Middle Man” I wrote just a couple weeks before recording. That actually replaced one of the songs that first motivated me to cut the record.

There are other songs that I wrote on there with Paul Williams, Greg Barnhill, Mark Winkler, Dave Bassett…songs I’d written over the years. I’ve written with literally hundreds of other writers and these just felt right for the record. They’re terrific, terrific co-writers. And I called and said “Hey, I want to record our song!” And they said “Go for it.”

Those are big names.

Paul Williams, I think he’s still president of ASCAP right now. I’ve written with Paul several times and the first time I wrote with Paul… you know, by the time I wrote with him, I’d written with hundreds of other writers, very famous writers, but Paul was especially… I’m not going to use the word “intimidating”… but it was thrilling. And I was a little nervous before the writing session, because it was Paul Williams and I had grown up playing the man’s catalogue, you know? Being a piano player. And like every other musician I’ve done my share of weddings and bar mitzvahs and anniversaries and nightclub gigs. And you know, we’ve all played with “Only Just Begun” and “Rainbow Connection” and “You And Me” and “Into the World” and the list just goes on and on and on. So, it was really fun to write a song with a guy whose catalogue maybe I knew better than he did.

How do you approach cowriting?

I think “Power of Us” on the record is the first song Paul and I wrote together. You just sit around and talk, you know, and you talk about ideas… I’m at the piano, and we just started tossing things out as I’m playing music and this idea came up of a love song that’s bigger than just, you know, an “I love you” kind of thing. We got together at the deli for lunch and then we went back to my office. I think we made that song in about an hour. It was one of those.

Does cowriting add a sense of structure and urgency to the whole thing?

I teach a class at UCLA; I’ve done it for years. And I get asked by young songwriters a lot, you know, “How is cowriting different than writing by yourself? Is it harder? Is it easier?” And I’ve been doing both for so long that it’s often hard for me to say which is easier, which is harder. They both have their pros and cons; cowriting can be fantastic if you’re with someone that you’re really clicking with and it’s someone of good humor and is on fire that day… it can also be Dante’s seventh circle if you’re in the room with the wrong person—and it might not even be their fault! This is not an exact science; there are times when it just doesn’t work. So they both have their pros and cons; um, cowriting session can turn into a costaring session really fast but it certainly makes the process less lonely and by and large I have had mostly good experiences.

I’d been writing long enough that I don’t have many bad experiences; of course everyone has a bad day. Sometimes your cowriter is primarily a performing artist and they’re new to writing. But I think I have the skills now to work with that.

Yeah, over time you must develop the skills to deal with any kind of personality that walks into the room.

You have no idea. [laughs]

I think the longer you’re a songwriter, the nature of this business now is that you’re going to cowrite.

There are very few, unless they’re true writer/artists and that’s the way they define their career—the Paul Simons, the Billy Joels—I’m dating myself now, aren’t I? But the nature of this business if you’re a songwriter is you have to be able to cowrite. It’s almost more of a business requirement than anything. So you have to be able to overcome that. But as you know, in anything, in any business, it’s a team sport; you don’t do it in a vacuum. Healthy people skills are always a plus.

One of the tricks I think you learn as a songwriter is identifying really fast what role you’re going to take in that session, even if you’ve never met the person before. You can find out, okay, are they a stronger melody person, are they a lyricist? What are you needed for in this session; what strengths do you bring, and how do you accentuate theirs?

You can’t get precious with this stuff. I’m preaching that all the time to students. You have to care, you have to believe it, but you can’t hang onto it as the truth. You have to be open to the truth that, guess what? You just might be wrong. Consider that no matter how much you believe it, if the other person says “No, I really think you should do it this way…” try it. It’ll reveal itself quickly enough if their suggestion isn’t right. But you kind of have to let that egotism go, I think, to be successful at this. That goes for making records or any sort of creative endeavor that’s a team sport.

The whole idea is: get the best out of the other person and they just may bring something to the party that you’re not thinking of, and they could be right and it could be brilliant. Be open to that.

You also wrote a novel.

I did. That’s something I’ve wanted to do all my life. I don’t plan for it to be my only novel, either. I’m always jotting things down and writing on things.

Here’s how it came about. In the nineties I spent a lot of time in Nashville. The only place where a songwriter was getting cut was in Nashville and I lived in Los Angeles. So I was splitting my time between Los Angeles and Nashville and living on Southwest airlines.

But once a year I would always drive cross-country. I wanted to do it. I wanted to get out there and just drive to Nashville; get on Interstate 40 and go. one time I was doing that I was in the middle of the Mojave desert and I start thinking “I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Why am I not writing a novel?”

And I realized that the only person telling me not to write a novel was me. I had every excuse in the world why I hadn’t done it. So I said to myself, “Guess what, Swann? You don’t have to be any good at it. You can be bad at it. You can write something that’s terrible. It doesn’t matter. And once I gave myself permission to actually be bad, I started. And I had an idea; it was a “What if this happened” and that’s actually how I started writing the book. The novel took me a year and a half to write.

I’ll tell you, out of my entire career it’s probably the most fun I’ve had creatively. I don’t know if you’ve ever done it, Nick, but if you’re a writer I highly suggest it. It’s so fun. And it’s so free. And you can kind of go into your own little world and just live in there.

They say “Write what you know” and I asked “What happens if a previously unknown Mozart work pops up? Who owns the publishing on it? Who gets it? What are the financial concerns? And I certainly knew that; I know the music world and the character in the book, David Webber, is a nightclub pianist, and clearly I know something about that. I wanted to put the whole thing on a canvas that I could be somewhat of an authority on. It was just so much fun, and quite an emotional investment because you really start caring about these characters, these people you create.

When I finished the book and finished the rewrite and finished the final edit and it actually went to print, I went through like a separation anxiety. I missed these people. I loved it. I think getting an e-mail from someone saying “Hey, I just downloaded your book; I’m about to sit down and read it”–I think that’s more thrilling than hearing “I’m going to cut your song.”

Sounds like a blast. Did you have an early interest in writing and songwriting?

Okay Nick, I’m gonna speak honestly, guy to guy here. Here’s the truth. I started writing songs to get girls. And I have this feeling that any male that tells you differently is lying to you. [laughs] We learn the guitar, we learn to play the piano, we write the songs for a girl. So in high school of course I was the annoying one who sang all the solos in church and played the piano and stuff and you know, I started writing songs. And I had rock bands, things like that. And then I would write songs for whatever girl I had a crush on.

When I moved to New York after high school, I was actually there to pursue an acting career. But I made a living, kept a roof over my head by playing nightclub piano down in The Village. So music was always just a way of paying the bills for me. I never really thought I would make it my career. But here we are thirty years later. And I was always writing songs and as the years went by I started taking it more seriously. And more seriously. And learning the craft, taking workshops, and it took me about eleven years before I made a dime as a songwriter, and I’d been working pretty hard. It wasn’t a decision, “I want to be a songwriter”, but it was always something I’d done over the years, and I knew it was a craft—and I wanted to get better at that.

You must’ve found some applications for acting techniques in songwriting.

Oh, yes. Absolutely. You know, it’s so interesting you say that, Nick, because I think I’ve discovered that I’m really interested in the creative process. I’ve taught a workshop for so long that I’m constantly thinking about this too, way things relate to the students. And being here in LA, a lot of my students do a lot of things. They’re actors, they’re dancers, they’re painters. The creative process is kind of the same; the disciplines may change very slightly but the actual organic process of creativity I’ve found to be the same: don’t edit. Be free. Be an observer.

I did find those years as an actor to be helpful.

So how’d you record the album, Stale Scotch and Cheap Cigars?

We cut the record live. Mics on the players, mic on the piano, mic on me and let’s just cut it live. And yes, I know my tempo’s going to vary slightly, because I’m a piano player, but I want that. I love records nowadays that are more performance-oriented. I love albums that are not so technically… well, technical.

Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate them! Some of them are just amazing. Some of these guys are scientists. I don’t know how they’re doing what they’re doing. But I do long for—and I’m more attracted to—the more organic records, flaws and all.

I can agree with that.

It’s probably just my age.

No, I think there’s something to be said for a record that sounds more human, that sounds relatable. When everything sounds crystalline, perfect, it sounds a little… I don’t want to say it sounds like you can’t trust it, but it sounds very unnatural. It’s nothing like anything you would ever hear in the real world and I think some subconscious part of everyone knows that.

I think so too.

What’ve you got coming up next, Phil?

A nap is what I had in mind. It’s been a wild summer. Well, let’s see. I’m starting a UCLA class tonight; I just got back in town and the first UCLA class starts tonight on commercial songwriting. I still have to go back to New York to check on the show—it runs through October. And I’m actually starting working on a new record for Spring.

One of the advantages of being my age—and I think it’s the only advantage of getting older in the music business—is I don’t have an image to protect. I’ve been a songwriter forever; I want to do something different. I’ve done the sixties vibe: Apollo Mission, Playboy tuxedo-wearing, drinking, smoking Dean Martin CD; next record’s going to be more singer-songwriter oriented, probably more rock. I’ve got some tracks already cut for it and I like the way they’re sounding. Some songs written for that.

I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m mostly known as a songwriter. And I’m not 20. I don’t have to create an image and worry about that. So I get to make the music I want to. And my musical tastes—as I’m sure yours do—vary. I mean, I like a lot of different styles. I don’t want to have to just do one thing and I don’t think I have to.

What would you tell young songwriters who are facing pressure to form and fulfill an image, and are faced with a choice between being able to release what they want and protecting their career?

That’s tricky. It’s easy for me to sit back and say “Well, be true to yourself and it’ll all work out.” I don’t know if that’s true or not. I will tell you this, and this is something that was told to me by a record executive in Nashville a few years ago.

He said “You know the sad thing is last year we in this town signed sixty new artists to the labels. There were sixty new major-label artists. This year, one of them is still around for a second record.” And he said that’s a pretty good average, actually. One out of sixty survived.

That being the case, wouldn’t you rather make the record you want to make and sell rather than make the record Marketing & Promotion wanted you to make and sell? I mean, that will always nag at you. So that’s probably what I would say: given that the odds are so huge and monumental for any sort of success anyway, you might as well be true to yourself and do what you want to do.

I’ve always felt I would rather fail being me than fail trying to be someone else. And… I could be completely wrong about all of this. [laughs]

There are Marketing & Promotion people out there right now saying “What an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t listen to a word Phil’s saying; listen to us!”

So that’s the battle, and I hear it. I have enough friends in the other side of the aisle who’re always complaining that their artists won’t do this, or won’t do that. There’s always another side to the coin. Coming from the creative side, though, I think ultimately you can’t be anyone other than who you are. You may be able to fake it for a little while, but ultimately… you just can’t. And boy do I wish I had learned that earlier on. I spent a big part of my early life trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be, and being afraid just to be myself.

So that’s probably my best advice to young people: Don’t be afraid.

I’m enjoying this new part of my creative life! Doing things you may not have been expecting from Phil Swann. In the 80′s I was known as such a pop-rock writer; in the 90′s I became known as a country songwriter; and since 2004 I’m now known as a Broadway writer. So the titles keep changing on me. That’s why I’m enjoying making these records. Each one is a chance to change it up again.

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Phil Swann

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