Teach me the good stuff.

As I write this, I am settled in beside a creek in the Catskills of New York, on Wednesday of a week-long songwriting retreat. Our group is vibrant, musically varied, and tenaciously creative. The water flowing down from the snowy mountains is ice-cold, but down here, we are all on fire.

We don’t often equate efficiency with creativity. And indeed, if the constraints of daily life weren’t thrust against our creative lives, we would have no reason to need to economize our time while writing. But, groceries need to be shopped for, appointments need to be kept, and families need to be cared for. All this life stuff draws the parameters around time left for writing.

I’d like to begin by saying I’m indebted to all the professors and visionary program leaders I’ve had the benefit of learning from over the past three decades. Over the course of my music education career, I’ve had access to some of the most innovative minds in the field. I take full responsibility for any lack of integration into my own music career. Looking back, there are days, and many, many nights, I would have lived differently had my focus been to make the most of what they were offering.

To be completely honest, I spend most of my days telling songwriters what they already know. Whether that makes me good at what I do, or perfectly dispensable, I don’t know, but I do know that when songwriters are looking for feedback, they often already suspect the problems. They tell me their song is too long.

Lately I’ve been binge-watching songwriting videos on YouTube. With so many time-tested tools, tips, and expert advice, our best songs should be one chord-tone away. But even after 25 years of writing and teaching the craft, I’m still left twitching a little after the sheer amount of information. “Place the title here and here, but don’t let it get formulaic.