I have been asked how I write songs. Truth is, I have no clue. I just do it. Last month I went on a tear writing more songs than I had in the last five years. In fact, I did most of it in the space of four days sitting on a peaceful second story deck looking out at the Atlantic Ocean from a North Carolina perch. Though I did not eat perch, I did eat flounder and shrimp on that trip.
Justin Hayward said it best. He, like me, does not try to analyze the gift of songwriting. He just enjoys it. The song “Nights in White Satin” is a song I can easily play. It changed the lives of a great many people and it just took Justin a few minutes to write. He wrote it in a few minutes 50 years ago and it is still here. It is still sending shivers up the spines and bringing folks closer together than they thought possible. As I have heard Justin say about songwriting, “It is something from nothing.” Something that was not there ten minutes ago is now a part of your life. I can attest. It is a magical thing. I have been blessed with the ability to pick up a guitar and in a few minutes come forth with something that sounds reasonable. Better yet, the songs I wrote in North Carolina were ones where I wrote the words and had the tunes in my head and I brought them out when I pulled out the guitar to chord them. Yes. I say it again. I was blessed when it comes to songwriting.
I have songs that I wrote fifteen years ago. I pull out my guitar and they are still alive and well. One of those songs, I recorded it in 2001, is a tune I am going to record again. It needs some better treatment. It needs a reflective voice…one I can provide now….and not the reactionary one I sang with the first time I recorded it.
In earnest, I have not played much guitar or sang as much as I once did in the last few years. That is not to say I did not hear things. That is not to say the music ever left me. I have no choice. It is a part of me.
I made a conscious effort when Carrie, my dear wife, and I went to North Carolina in March. My mission was to write some songs. They came out like cheese whiz through a water hose. They were thick and true.They just came out.
I have been asked what I write songs about. Whatever I am led to write is what I write about. My base in music comes from the church. Some of my most cherished songs are still the songs I learned as a child. I remember singing “Jesus Love the Little Children”. In that song I sang in a town I love, part of the lyric said “red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight….” Even as a young child I was puzzled by this. Not that I did not believe it. The problem was I had many around me at the time that did not adhere to these lyrics. I know. It is just part of it. Even that old excuse does not make it right.
I am looking forward in my songwriting these days. I am looking forward by looking back, on occasion. That is the way it seems to me. And I am more excited and optimistic than ever heading into the studio this time. I feel I have more to offer this time. The first time I recorded properly I didn’t feel like I belonged there. I was surrounded by quality musicians and there I was. I felt like I was crashing the party….even thought they were my songs. The second great recording venture saw me working under the guidance of Tim Krekel. He played on a produced my next record. If you have not heard of him, too bad for you. Chances are you have heard him play the guitar on the radio or at a Jimmy Buffett concert in the 70s or 80s, if you made it to one of those. I was just glad to be in the same room with him. The greatest moment I had with Tim was not in the studio. It was at a gig we played in the building I now work. When I walk close to the patch of stage where we sang that night, I get an empty feeling. I miss Tim. He died of cancer in 2009. Carrie and I talked to him ten days before he died. It is a moment that still haunts me. We played a song one night that I sprang on the group. It was a live performance and I just told them to follow my lead. It was the guttiest thing I have ever done. The boys caught up to me and ran with it. When the song was over…and I was the one who nodded to the guitars and the drummer to end it, Tim looked at me and said, “Where was that tune when we were recording?” I will never forget the look on his face. It helped to give me the courage to keep going on with my music. I owe it him. I owe it to the Good Lord for giving me this seamless gift. I don’t consider songwriting work. I hear guys talk about how they agonize over writing songs. That is a joke. If you can write a song…any song…and make it presentable…just be thankful and keep making progress.
And…in my case…I will keep singing and….speaking the rights.
Danny Johnson