Vol. 17: The Person Behind The Song
đ§ Prefer listening over reading?
You can listen to this Dad's Music Muse article instead of reading it.
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I still remember coming home after watching the movie Seven in the theatre.
That ending... where Brad Pitt opens the box, realizes what's inside, and has to wrestle with whether to arrest John Doe or put a bullet in his head, left me speechless.
When I got back to my apartment, I grabbed a notebook and started writing.
I wasn't reviewing the movie.
I was trying to write a song that captured that same level of intensity I had just felt.
More than anything though, I just needed to get that shit out of my head.
Years later, after watching a documentary called Time: The Kalief Browder Story, I found myself doing the same thing. I leaned on my pen to help me process the tragedy I'd just learned about.
Ninety-five percent of what I write ends up in a trash can or buried somewhere in my deleted Notes folder, but this time those thoughts became Trouble on My Mind, a song that eventually appeared on our 2022 album, Phreek Show.
Whether it's movies or music, I've always been drawn to stories that feel real.
The ones that stay with me long after they're over.
Listening Differently
Every now and then I'll tell someone,
"You've got to hear this."
And when I do, I can usually tell within the first minute whether they experience music the way I do or not.
I'm not suggesting my way is the right way.
It's just... different.
If a song has affected me enough to say, "You've got to hear this," I really just want that person to stop talking for three or four minutes and actually listen.
More often than not though, somewhere during the first verse, the person will start telling me about something that happened at work or anything else that I view as a distraction from the song at that moment.
That used to frustrate me.
But I've come to realize that people just listen for different things.
What grabs me first is almost always the story.
I want to know who this person is.
I want to know what they're trying to tell me.
The music draws me in.
The writing is what keeps me there.
The Art of the Reveal
One of my favourite examples is Common's I Used to Love H.E.R.
If you've never heard it, I won't spoil it.
The first time I did, I had no idea where he was taking me. Then, near the end, everything clicked. Suddenly every verse I'd already heard meant something different. I immediately wanted to hear it again.
I've always admired songwriters who trust the audience enough to connect the dots themselves.
A great reveal isn't just about surprise. It's about earning it. Reveal the idea too early and the listener loses the satisfaction of discovery. Reveal it too late and they may never connect the dots. Somewhere in between is where the magic happens.
That's probably why I've always had mixed feelings about Nas' I Gave You Power. I think it's one of the most creative concepts in hip-hop. I've just never loved the decision to tell us in the opening line that he's rapping from the perspective of a gun. I've often wondered what that first listen would've felt like if we'd been left to figure it out ourselves.
That's not to say that every song needs a dramatic reveal. Sometimes the songwriter gives you just enough to keep you wondering.
More Than the Lyrics
Billy Joel's Turn the Lights Back On fascinated me for that reason. The first time I heard it, I couldn't decide what it was really about.
Was he singing about an old relationship?
His audience after so many years away?
His younger self?
I loved not knowing because it fed my need to explore deeper.
I found myself reading lyric interpretations online, searching for interviews, and eventually watching Howard Stern ask Billy about the song.
One lyric has stayed with me ever since.
"When pride sticks out its tongue and laughs at the portrait that we've become..."
I love lyrics that aren't literal but still manage to tell you exactly how someone feels.
The story is such a big part of the listening experience for me that whenever I watch a documentary about an artist, I spend the next couple of weeks listening to their music completely differently.
After watching the Amy Winehouse film Back to Black, the song Rehab suddenly sounded much heavier than the catchy pop song the world had come to know.
I'd never given much thought to the lyric, "And if my daddy thinks I'm fine...", but after watching the movie and learning that during an intervention, her father expressed his belief that rehab would be an overreaction, the context changed the way I heard the song.
The same thing happened after watching I Am Tim, the documentary about Avicii.
I spent days listening to his catalogue almost like I was reading a diary.
Whether songs like SOS were cries for help isn't really the point. The documentary simply made me hear them through a different lens.
The Story Beyond the Song
I've done this with older music too.
I grew up hearing Rupert Holmes' Escape (The Piña Colada Song) in my dad's car.
I'd heard it hundreds of times.
Or at least I thought I had.
About five years ago, I finally listened to the story.
A man, bored with his relationship, secretly answers a personal ad from a woman looking for someone who likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. They arrange to meet, only to discover they're actually married to each other.
I'd known the chorus my whole life.
I'd somehow missed the plot.
Oddly enough, that's coming from someone who considers himself a lyric guy.
The Person Behind the Song
Lately I've been asking myself why any of this matters to me.
Why do I care so much about understanding the person behind the song?
I think it comes down to connection.
If I understand what someone was going through when they wrote something, the song becomes more meaningful to me.
I'm looking for that window into their soul.
Bruno Mars is probably one of the most gifted performers in music today, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for what he does. His voice, his stage presence, and his ability to write hit after hit are remarkable. But when I listen to his music, I don't come away feeling like I know him any better. I don't feel like I'm getting a glimpse into his life or what he's been through.
That isn't a criticism of Bruno. It simply means I connect with his music differently than I do with someone like Amy Winehouse or Billy Joel.
Then I think about the Beastie Boys and my own theory starts to fall apart.
They're probably my favourite group of all time, yet they rarely wrote deeply personal songs.
So why do I connect with them?
Maybe because I got to know them another way.
Through their humour.
Their chemistry.
Their personalities.
Their creativity.
Even without confessional lyrics, I still felt like I understood who they were.
Maybe that's what I've been trying to say all along.
I don't just listen to songs. I try to understand the people who wrote them. Sometimes that happens in the last verse. Sometimes it takes a documentary, an interview, or twenty more years of life before a lyric suddenly means something different.
And sometimes, if the writing is honest enough, I catch a glimpse of the person behind the song.
The funny thing is...
It's probably the same reason I've rewritten this article half a dozen times over the past two days.
I want my own writing to do the same thing.
I want it to give you a glimpse into me as a person.
Maybe a part of me that's harder to express in everyday conversation.
Because at the end of the day...
Maybe that's what I've been searching for all along.
The person behind the song.
đ§ Spotify Playlist
I've also put together a Spotify playlist featuring many of the songs mentioned throughout this article. If you'd like to listen along, you can find it here: