Something that comes up frequently in songwriting discussions is the idea that it’s important for all or almost all listeners to immediately understand every word and reference in a song. I disagree.

Some consider it a problem to use words that aren’t in most people’s vocabulary or to make references to a person, place, thing, or slang term that your ‘average listener’ (?) doesn’t know about and that isn’t explained in the song.

There’s nothing wrong with writing songs using only words and references that almost everyone understands right away. Many great songs fit in this category.

But there’s also nothing wrong with using words and references that many listeners don’t understand… at first. Done well, it can create a feeling of place, time, and personality… a feeling that we are somewhere unfamiliar and with someone unfamiliar (to us)… and we’re intrigued. That mystery can be interesting and make us want to know more (the music is part of this; often it’s new to us as well).

Examples? Bob Marley is one of the world’s greatest and most beloved songwriters. Yet his songs all came from his corner of the world… which then became part of the music of the entire globe.

You grooving Kingston 12, grooving, Kingston 12
Grooving woe, woe, it’s Kingston 12
Grooving it’s Kingston 12
(Trenchtown Rock)

We gonna chase those crazy –
Chase those crazy bunkheads –
Chase those crazy baldheads out of the town
(Crazy Baldheads)

Where is Kingston? (Not upstate New York.) What’s a ‘crazy baldhead’? Marley opened up a new world to the uninitiated.

Jay-Z has been one of the world’s most popular songwriters and artists for decades. He made his name singing about living and hustling in a relatively small subculture of America – the urban ghetto. But his lyrics contain all sorts of references and nuances. He challenges you to keep up with him.

Need a Personal Jesus
I’m in Depeche Mode
They say it’s celestial
It’s all in the stars
It’s like Tony LaRussa
How you play your cards.
(American Dreamin’)

Depeche Mode wasn’t exactly one of the most popular bands in the world. Does everyone know their song, ‘Personal Jesus’? Did every listener know who Tony LaRussa is? (Some did.) Or that he was the manager of the St. Louis Cardinals (cards)?

From Amy Winehouse’s biggest hit:

I’d rather be at home with Ray
I ain’t got seventy days
‘Cause there’s nothing
There’s nothing you can teach me
That I can’t learn from Mr. Hathaway
(Rehab)

If you know something about addiction, you might guess that ‘seventy days’ refers to sobriety. But who is Ray? And who the hell is Mr. Hathaway? We never find out… but we can guess. It’s the world of the narrator of this song, and we’re overhearing her talk about it. It feels real. Maybe more real than if we did know the answers to these questions.

I could go on with many more examples but hopefully I’ve made my point, or at least got you thinking about it. Consider how this holds true in literature and film too. As long as it’s done in an interesting way, we love being exposed to and fascinated by worlds different from ours, where – at least at first – we don’t know what everything means.

This isn’t about getting away with being vague. Quite the opposite. It’s about being extremely specific about a corner of the world that maybe most people don’t know about (yet). It can be about your corner.

To listeners already in the places, physical and imaginative, and subcultures from which these songs emerge, the lyrics (and music) are no mystery – it’s their life. But to those outside, in most cases the majority of listeners, these kind of songs can do one of the things art does best – open us up to other ways of life, other ways of thinking about life, and other people.

It may sometimes feel counter-intuitive, but seeing and feeling these differences… also makes it easier for us to feel our commonalities.

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