By: Mason Mattu, Section Editor

This summer, I wrote a bunch of songs from the back of a car on a super-long family road trip. Through speed bumps and all, I found a certain solitude in writing — a comfort that connected me to a greater purpose. I have always thought of myself as a poet, first, and as someone with a musical aptitude, second. Thus, the tradition of free verse poetry has always grounded my songwriting. 

Take an example from one of the songs I wrote this summer, “Motel Bible.” 

Truckers and their dirt leave a mark on the cover / They say it’s a Heather’s Pick or a Times bestseller / But did they actually give you a closer look, to see the shadows behind your soul? / Mothers and their mothers lifting youngsters into a broken shower / Mildew stains gloss all over the cover / While father’s reading you high on ecstasy / Is he really reading about the story of Adam and Eve / While on ecstasy?  

There’s a beauty in a lack of a consistent rhyme scheme, syllable count, and the unpredictable progression in the verse.

In many ways, these lines both betray and revolt against what we have typically thought of as essential components of a song. There’s a notion out there that if your song lyrics don’t adhere to the principles of rhyme, metre, and a chorus-verse structure, then what you have is not a song — it’s only a work of sloppy, unedited poetry. Fickle, I say. 

Part of this idea comes from today’s mainstream pop. When you hear songs with predictable rhymes, such as Alex Warren’s “Ordinary,” or Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso,” it is clear that they’ve been engineered to stick inside their listeners’ heads. Popular artists follow songwriting conventions because it is the most commercially viable path for their record labels. Given that the three largest labels in the music industry are responsible for 69% of music’s revenues, experimental or unconventional songs are pushed out of the mainstream. As a result, artists quickly learn that creativity is a liability within the music industry, pushing them to follow the standards of the mainstream artistic echo chamber. 

However, we need to view songwriting as an introspective experience based on our memories, lived experiences, and observations. Are our thoughts and emotions filled with perfect rhyme schemes, cadence, and structure? No, they aren’t. Placing highly structured and conventional lyricism on a pedestal, and thus setting it as an objective standard, is a betrayal of artistic expression, and so detached from reality. 

When I write songs, I channel inspiration from songwriters who have defied the artistically watered-down view of musicality, like Joni Mitchell and Lana Del Rey. For example, Mitchell’s 16-minute song “Paprika Plains” is a masterful piece that gracefully and entirely abandons structure. Its words flow like a diary, yet still present as emotionally complex and artistic. In a conversation with Elton John, Mitchell said that the music industry was initially afraid of how “intimate” her songs were. 

I also draw inspiration from Lana Del Rey, who rejects formulaic songwriting in songs such as “Fingertips” — a piece that lacks a consistent verse-chorus structure. Her words linger in your soul, and they are not selected for rhyme or convention. They are selected as a replication of her inner thoughts. 

The world deserves to hear raw, authentic, and creative voices — and the only way we can make this change is by actually taking action. If enough people stand up to conventional music and choose to write and listen to songs that push break norms, we can collectively shift the tide of the music industry.