A week of chord charts, paperwork and porch-light practice, with the farm shelf for songwriters who like their verses grounded
Monday, the Kitchen Table Studio
Every song I have written started at a kitchen table, with a cup of coffee, a guitar leaning on a chair and the vague sense that the refrigerator was listening. This week I sat down to answer a question that many new writers ask me: how do I get my songs published and licensed as a new country artist. The honest answer is that it takes patience, paperwork and a thick skin, and that nobody in the business will do the first step for you.
I am not a lawyer, and I will say so before anyone asks. What I can offer is the view from the kitchen table: keep a clean record of every song, including the date you finished it, who wrote which line and what recordings exist. When a publisher, a licensing agent or a co-writer asks, you will be glad you did the dull work in the quiet months.
The Folder Method
My method is a folder for each song. Inside: the lyric sheet, a rough recording on my phone, the chord chart, a note of any co-writer and a one-line description. That description is the most useful part. If I cannot explain a song in a single sentence, it probably is not finished. A good country song can be told in a line: a man, a truck, a regret. The rest is detail and delivery.
When the folder is ready, you can start sending it out. Be polite. Be brief. And be prepared for the long silence that follows, which is the music industry’s way of saying “we received it”.
Tuesday, Songs for the Land
Country and folk music have always been about land, and there is no better place to refresh your imagery than the people who work it. I keep a reading list. For dairy, dairyherd.org. For beef, ranchbeefcattle.org. For the machines and the noise they make, tractorequipment.org. For the seasons that rule a farmer’s year, cropcalendar.org.
The money pages, which have fed more songs than any muse, are farmmoney.org and smallfarminfo.org. Rural careers are at agjobscareers.org. County fairs, where half of America’s guitarists first played in public, are at fairandrodeo.org. The wider picture is at ruralfarm.org, with a safety note at farmssafety.org for songwriters who plan to write from a combine.
A Few Song Pages to Hum
For a taste of how a farm-flavoured country lyric looks on a website, have a look at Workin' for Some Yankee's Rent and Man's Greatest Invention Is the Cowboy Hat over on the farm.FM music pages. They are examples of the genre’s habit of turning a household complaint into a chorus, and they make a good reference for anyone working out how to title a song.
Titles matter. A title is a promise to the listener and a handle for the publisher. The best country titles are short, specific and faintly rueful.
Rent, Wages and the Honest Chorus
A London Prat headline that could be the first line of a ballad: Say What You Pay: Job Adverts Must Show Salaries. The tradition of songs about work, wages and landlords stretches back centuries in both folk and country music. The topics have not changed. The villains wear different hats.
If you are writing a song about money, I suggest you treat everyone fairly. A boss in a good song is a person with a story, not a cartoon. The most moving workplace songs let the listener feel the pressure on both sides of the desk.
Wednesday, Porch Light Practice
I practise on the porch, with a bulb overhead that attracts moths and a view of a field that belongs to my neighbour. The strings bite my fingertips in the cold. The cat sits on the rail and judges. On a good night I play the same three chords for an hour and discover something new in each pass. On a bad night, I play the same three chords and wonder whether the cat has a point.
That is songwriting: repetition, patience and the occasional gift. The gift arrives when you are not looking. Last night it came as a line about a screen door, and I wrote it on my hand before I lost it.
Co-Writers and Coffee
Writing with another person is a delicate dance. The best co-writes I have done began with ten minutes of chat about nothing, a pot of tea and an unspoken agreement that no idea is too silly to say out loud. The worst began with a cold room and a clock on the wall. If you are new to co-writing, pick a partner who laughs easily. Laughter is a better sign of chemistry than talent.
Agree early, in writing, on who owns what share, and revisit it kindly if the song changes. The conversation is awkward for five minutes and a comfort for twenty years.
Where to read next
The rest of the shelf lives at prat.uk, bohiney.com and farm.fm. For a second opinion on the week, The Daily Mash keeps its own counsel and its own hours.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/