The Three Essentials In Every Song.

We’re in a golden age of songwriting, a silver lining in a dark time.

It’s 3 a.m. I wake with a song in my head.

Not a wisp, not an idea, an entire song. The melody, the lyric, and a voice saying to me, ‘Perform the song exactly the way you’re hearing it.’

Half asleep, I stumbled out of bed.

We’re in the middle of Manhattan. The last several months are lockdowns, empty avenues, a fear of touch, breath, crowds, neighbors.

The lights of Broadway theaters are off. The opera is dark. There’s no work. Manhattan without work is a city without purpose.

But there are gifts given by the pandemic. One is time. Another is silence. And in the silence you can better hear the whispers of angels.

The song in my head is demanding. I’m used to midnight ideas. I keep a pen and paper close when I sleep. The middle of the night ideas are fresh. The landscape of dreams births truth. But this inspiration is different. It’s more insistent. More demanding.

If I was to say anything about the music, I hear today I’d say it’s conformed. It’s kept in a box. So much of it sounds the same. Expression is compressed.