Fear Of Melody
About fifteen years ago I began thinking about melody. I’m not sure what the motivation was for this; perhaps a personal need to go back in pop history when songs seemed more tuneful. At the time, my band was going, so it seemed natural for me to understand melody by trying to write it. And, of course, that wasn’t easy. In the end I found that what worked for me was what I called the Neil Young Method. Young basically goes with what comes to him first thing in the morning, when his subconscious dreaming mind is close to his conscious mind. In such a way he wrote gorgeous songs with amazing melodies like After The Gold Rush, Only Love Can Break Your Heart and Heart Of Gold.
Whether I found myself able to write a unique melody is a question best left to those who remember the band and bought the albums. What I can say is that using Young’s method I found many melodies that seemed fresh and original to me, and after a while I had more than I needed.
One of the themes of The Autist is the loss of melody from music being symptomatic of some deeper malaise. It has struck me during the last couple of decades that more popular music now than that of, say, the 1960s or 1970s, is lacking those wonderful, sometimes extraordinary melodies: I’m thinking of Paul McCartney’s classics, many Motown classics, The Byrds, the Beach Boys, John Phillips’ songs, Paul Simon, Donald Fagen of Steely Dan, and so on. Did something happen around the turn of the millennium that sucked some of the melody out of popular music in the West?
It seems to me that such a thing might have happened. As a practicing musician I used to wonder if it was something to do with the increasing use of computers in the recording studio. Using software rather than analogue tape can channel musicians in a certain direction: loop-based music using samples for instance. Some groups – FSOL stand out here – can use loops and samples in an original way, but for me something is lost around this particular time. But perhaps there is more to it than computer software.
What, then, is melody? Melody for me is a direct connection to the emotional heart of human existence. With melody, feelings can be evoked without the need for words – you only have to think of instrumental themes like Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No 1, or many themes from famous films, like Francis Lai’s unforgettable theme from Love Story. Melody is our path into feeling, emotion and mood – think of the theme from The Snowman…
So I can’t help wondering if the loss of melody from popular music is diagnostic of a deeper problem. We live in a world where computers are the environment, not just some handy thing in the environment. Our world has become one of calculation, algorithm, statistics. The analogue age is over: this is the digital age. Could it be that the loss of melody in popular music is a symptom of emotion, and therefore of human values, receding from our world? Could the reported increase in ennui, in numbness, in the Western world also be symptomatic of such a lack?
This was the thesis I had Mary Vine put forward in The Autist. Mary has been working on a case involving Tarrington Smith, a brilliant melodist – “… a Mozart, a McCartney…” – murdered in mysterious circumstances. The case leads her thinking in a certain direction. I wonder if she was on to something when she spoke about the loss of melody from the world? Because, if so, that’s scary.