So I was listening to the radio yesterday. I listen to a “classic rock” station, because I choose to live in the past and growl about the new so-called “music,” if it’s all the same to you.
Anyway, there I am, minding my own business, and America’s Horse With No Name comes on.
And it struck me – when a songwriter sits down to knock off a ditty, s/he must be hoping for a hit. But is s/he also hoping that the latest creation will not become yet another Horse With No Name? Another Stairway?
Does there come a point when a songwriter is just as sick of a given song as the rest of us?
Don’t get me wrong – I sang along. I, too, have been through a desert on a horse with no name. I’ve heard a bustle in the hedgerow. I’ve had one foot on the platform, the other foot on the train. In spoken communication, we’re inundated with cliches – are such songs just musical cliches?
The answer must be blowin’ in the wind.
That’s right. But why must this stupid answer always end up on my lawn after its blowing days are over?