I loveee music. I love crafty production; I love clever interpolations; I love wordplay. I could talk for days and days about music and why I love it, but today, I want to highlight my favorite part of music: the lyrics. As much as I enjoy listening to songs with fun production and earwormy choruses, I think music’s beauty lies in feeling what someone else feels. Certain artists’ songwriting just pulls you into their world like you’ve just read their autobiography. I’m no English major, but read along as I unpack some of my favorite songs.
This song is unreal. If you’ve never heard it, go listen right now. Frank is essentially singing about a therapy session occurring in the backseat of a taxi cab. He posits love, specifically unreciprocated love, as a “bad religion,” a form of unhealthy, almost addictive worship that can swallow you whole if you’re not careful. The whole thing is a masterpiece, but the pre-chorus and chorus are particularly powerful:
| [Pre-chorus] And you say “Allahu akbar” I told him “Don’t curse me” “Bobo, you need prayer” I guess it couldn’t hurt me, yeah [Chorus] |
Here, Frank touches on both the normalization of islamophobia as well as the themes of love as worship; that I mentioned before. “Allahu akbar” simply means that “God is greatest,” but Frank is calling it a curse. In addition to the discriminatory implications of his response, to me, Frank is saying he doesn’t need another power to worship, he’s already saddled with this lover who has a divine hold over him. In the chorus, Frank again makes the connection between love and unfettered worship, calling himself out for blindly following this person who is only looking out for themself and doesn’t have his best interests in mind. Frank identifying his lover as a man really makes this song all the more poignant. Channel Orange, the album on which this song was released, came out in 2012, three years prior to the legalization of gay marriage in America. This real-world context makes this ballad all the more impactful, as it’s entirely possible that Frank’s lover’s dismissal of their relationship was tied to the social implications of being openly gay. |
This song literally came out in 1980, 25 years before I was born. Yet, it’s still so impactful today. In Army Dreamers, Bush sings about a young soldier who was killed in war, the effect of his death on his mother and the brutality of war at large. Bush’s distinct voice and the plucked mandolin in the background create a chilling melody for an already eerie song. The lyrics of the chorus, though simple, present Kate’s message so candidly, almost matter-of-factly, that it almost makes me sick:
| [Chorus] (What could he do? Should have been a rock star) But he didn’t have the money for a guitar (What could he do? Should have been a politician) But he never had a proper education (What could he do? Should have been a father) But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste, army dreamers Oh, what a waste of army dreamers |
This chorus is one of my favorites of all time. The statement-rebuttal between the background vocalists and Bush parallels the whataboutism that people often engage in after tragedies that are intertwined with sociocultural issues. Instead of recognizing social inequities, it’s easier to chastise individuals for existing incorrectly. This idea is highlighted through the list of other occupations that the unnamed soldier could’ve engaged in. None of them is realistic for the young man. Joining the military was often the best job prospect that young men living below the poverty line had at the time. The sentiment of this back-and-forth could also be applied to the school-to-prison pipeline that exists largely in inner city communities. These kids, typically young black men, were never given a fair chance, but whenever this is vocalized, instead of criticisms of the system, there are suddenly 1,000 things that they should’ve done. |
Oh, Adele, where do I begin? The woman is a vocal powerhouse with not a single skip in her discography… need I say more? Although Adele is known for her beautiful ballads about the tensions of love, I find I Drink Wine especially wonderful. It’s as much about romantic love as it is about self-love, and I’m obsessed. The verses are super reflective, full of rhetorical questions that dig into seeking external validation, knowingly making poor decisions and finding balance in life. The whole thing is spectacular, but I especially love the bridge and final chorus:
| [Bridge] Listen, I know how low I can go, I give as good as I get You get the brunt of it all ‘cause you’re all I’ve got left Oh I hope in time(Hope in time) We both will find peace of mind Sometimes, the road less travelled is a road best left behind [Chorus] |
In the bridge, Adele grapples with her missteps as a partner, recognizing her own flaws and her misdirected anger. The end of the bridge is such a Pinterest-esque quote. Oftentimes, we get caught up in trying to pave a new path, forgetting that some things are supposed to be easy. Love isn’t supposed to be this convoluted impossibility; when it’s right, it’s right. I don’t think Adele’s saying to give up on your lover, simply that there’s no need to relearn lessons that others have learned for you.
To me, this chorus is such a refreshingly honest platitude. All throughout the song, Adele discusses the complexity of ego, romance and self-discovery, but this chorus recenters the song on the simplicity of her desires. At the end of the day, she just wants to be her authentic self and be loved for that. #real |
I love Phoebe Bridgers and this song so much. Funeral is (surprise, surprise) a song about death, depression and existentialism. Every chunk of lyrics from this song feels like looking out the window at the pouring rain in the best way. Both verses are great, but I’m partial toward the second:
| [Verse 2] I have a friend I call When I’ve bored myself to tears And we talk until we think we might just kill ourselves But then we laugh until it disappears And last night, I blacked out in my car And I woke up in my childhood bed Wishing I was someone else, feeling sorry for myself When I remembered, someone’s kid is dead |
The first part of this verse touches on the dangers of suffocating loneliness. Of course, reflection and being alone with your thoughts are healthy, but when your mind consumes you to the point of tears, it’s so important to reach out for help. Phoebe highlights the duality of strong friendships: ones where you’re comfortable to vocalize struggles and have those hard-hitting conversations, but also silly enough that you pull yourselves out of ruts together. The end of the second part of this verse ties a loop back to the beginning of the song, where Phoebe explains who the funeral is for. However, it also illustrates the very real fallacious logic that comes with depression. Bridgers compares her feelings of depersonalization and sadness to death, committing the all-too-common logical fallacy of relative privation, the idea that just because someone else has it worse, your situation isn’t bad. While yes, it’s important to read the room, understand your circumstances in context and decenter yourself at times, this doesn’t have to happen at the expense of your emotional validation. |
Music is the connective tissue of the human race. Powerful lyricism transcends space and time, language and culture, centering all of us on the emotional experiences that we thought were ours alone. There’s a reason why songs like FRIENDS by Laundry Day give you a pit in your stomach during graduation season or why songs like Upside Down by Jack Johnson feel like a ray of sunshine. Hearing your emotions or hopes and fears sung back to you reinforces the feelings on display and can unearth ones you didn’t know existed. No matter the genre, make sure to not just listen, but feel.