Here are the results for the experiment! Below is the lyrics of each song, the writer's analysis of their work, and then my analysis of their work. By request of some of the writers, I will keep all of the names anonymous.
Songwriter#1: "The Light"
My memory Is a blank slate Can’t seem to concentrate On the ghosts that haunt me But there’s one spot That’s peaking through the cracks It leads me to the tracks, back home The syllables of your name, I know. But you’re fading out now Just like the light in my head Growing darker and darker each day I think that they’re related now This to what you said, When will come, our day? Because my lips can’t seem to call out your name My ears seem to shut down when you’re whispering mine Your image sinks further into the capsules in my brain I think it’s starting to blot out the light Yeah it goes Deeper and deeper each time Yeah it cuts Deeper and deeper each time My memory Is a stale fix Tides me over with fake tricks And songs we used to know But you’re fading out now Just like the light in my head Growing darker and darker each day I think that they’re related now This to what you said, Oh honey, why don’t you stay? Because my lips can’t seem to call out your name My ears seem to shut down when you’re whispering mine Your image sinks further into the capsules in my brain I think it’s starting to blot out the light Yeah it goes |
The Writer's Analysis:
"The song is about memories of someone that has broken your heart, and how that affects your memory of such a person. It's about involuntarily forgetting the destructive past that you may actually want to keep in memory. There is a line about the memories "blotting out the light." It's about your memory and mind growing darker as time passes from something bad happening. Overall, it's about the past, and how one thinks about the past." |
Songwriter#2: "Untitled." minding my old twisted mind a soaring sun enveloped in a light searing gaze could steal my words how wonderful to hold my pride random roads return to me my anthem, my homes eternity is serving me I wake up to pleasant smells, heart swells living lonesome ain't so hard for me not when over shoulders hold my present rapture on the way up, still chasing the void's lure learning slow, like a short handed woodsman trying to leave myself from tall trees, growing needs black and ruined, on the edge of malice legs churning for young tomorrow wishing well of my wayward ways a faulty sense of crime in crimson so gather up your stored provisions rather work for moments rest than living backwards truth can be drawn to mind I never knew of a better kind |
The Writer's Analysis: "The song is about learning its okay to feel a certain way, and everything passes. Experiencing emotion is a wonderful gift, and love is ok, and one should always be looking ahead and behind oneself, keeping a sharp eye out. It also has a negative tint because it says think whatever way works for you, and even if it doesn't make sense, if it gives you peace then it is worth holding onto." |
Songwriter#3: "Where You Lived"
(This song is an instrumental, click the play button to listen!) |
The Writer's Analysis:
"This song utilizes a sample from a song called "Love Don't Live Here Anymore," written and performed by Rose Royce during the mid-seventies. The song is about a broken relationship, so I decided to emphasize the role that homes and locations play in a relationship - the only snatches of vocal you hear are Rose singing 'when you lived inside of me' and 'what we had before.' The other instrumentation I added is largely downtempo and melancholic, almost trance-like, to add to the feeling of loss of stability one experiences when they lose touch with a place they consider home. The use of reverb adds a level of uncertainty, obscuring a lot of the instruments further and leaving only Rose's voice to cut through the aether." |
Songwriter#4: "White Man's Burden" And I don't even know how I got in this position Desecrating arrangements to call myself a musician Estranged from pitch, I clung quickly to diction Mixed with rhythmic precision I work with what I've been given But my talent isn't natural Its contrived Listening to old beats from OG's for all of my life Picked the precise vice to copy the doggy But when I light flights, my words don't mesh properly Logically I turned to logic to produce truth with loops and the study of sonics leave the money and phonics alone that's not my court I was a white boy playing in a black man's sport How could I purport To slang and hang with homies I ain't seen white in my life and there's no block that knows me no real stress or aggressors The police are my protectors I've never had to skip a breakfast Live off the cash my fam collected Yet I never left the rap alone Kept burning bones at home to hone my mind, but got more spacey And I've still never had a blue and red light chase me So I don't talk about the struggle I ain't seen And I slowed up drinking 40's and smoking green and now I rap like I'm an intellectual cuz I'm less a thug and more an intellectual. |
The Writer's Analysis: "I wrote this rap to discuss the most salient problem of being a wealthy white lyricist. Rap is inherently music of race and class struggle, two problems from which I have been sheltered. I think that merely reducing my involvement in hip-hop to "cultural appropriation" is an oversimplification that reinforces the social distinctions that cause struggle. However, acting as though I live the "thug life," whatever that means, is an attempt to insert myself into a life I do not lead because I seem to deem it cool. So I try to rap about what is real for me, from intellectual and spiritual dilemmas, to teenage angst." |
Songwriter#5: "1000 Cups of Tea" Come over and put the water on, I’ll get the tea bags. I cannot differentiate; our mouths share a history of Earl Grey tinted by echinacea and hints of lemon ginger. Together we sip and I will forget how beautiful you are-- the golden star around your cornias, the same color as your laugh and a few hairs of your beard-- because I drink away quickly the boiled time in my hands. There will always be another. So come over to be with me melt naked in the tub against the cream of my collarbone count the stars through the tree branches count 1000 cups of tea and keep counting even when you drink espresso from a small white vessel pure white stained with the sharp charcoal of bitter beans the liquid longing for what you can’t have, keep counting in your metal chair at the café in Venice Because I remember how beautiful you are 1000 times keep counting the twisted tummy tears falling full of salt on the rounds of your face I cannot differentiate; our cheekbones share a history of dew a cocktail of both bodies keep counting even when you forget what number you’re on keep counting even when you cannot taste the history of Earl Grey tinted by echinacea and hints of lemon ginger Even when you taste it with someone else I will be counting 1000 cups of tea the boiled time of our history the steeping herbs of our uncertain future. |
The Writer's Analysis: "So this song is about my boyfriend and how a huge part of our relationship is just sitting in my kitchen (or his kitchen, or l'aroma cafe) drinking tea. but mostly drinking tea with my mom and i in my kitchen. and there's so many memories and so much time and laughter built up in those moments. anyway, when we are drinking tea together (sort of a metaphor for being together) it's easy to forget and not worry about the fact that we are so young and our relationship is going to be really difficult to continue with college, etc. hence the line, "there will always be another" (it always feels like we're going to stay together, "keep drinking tea"). But then as the song progresses, he is drinking espresso (not tea, perhaps a metaphor for different life experiences outside of our relationship), and he's far away in europe, and it's sort of this painful idea that we want to take a break and live our lives, but we are always going to be longing for each other "the liquid longing for what you can't have." and i tell him to "keep counting" even when we are in different places, as in don't forget us. Then about the tears falling; that's about how we have to hold on, keep counting, keep remembering, even when it's super difficult and sad, he has to keep counting he has to keep remembering and "the steeping herbs of our uncertain future" is about how we don't know what tea we will drink in the future, we don't know what will happen but we must keep counting our cups of tea." |