"Songwriting," offers Rodney Crowell, "is the art. Permit me to wax, but I think of myself as an artist. My life is an artist's life. Making records is just hanging your paintings up at the show. The best work that I've done as an artist has been in the area of songwriting - and probably songs that I've never recorded, songs that are still in the bag."
Sometimes, the song won't let you sleep. Sometimes it comes after you. "To the point of tapping you on the shoulder and saying 'Go somewhere and tune everybody out and get this."
Other times it's just a matter of throwing open your arms and giving in to the muse: Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.
"I think those songs exist in their whole state, somewhere other than where we are right now, consciously," Rodney says. "I'm talking about the area of the unconscious, the Thoreau area. The collective unconscious.
"I believe that the really good songs exist out there already written, in their purest form, word for word, melody and words perfectly matched up. And I think my job is to bring it through to this side. And how well I succeed at that really varies. Sometimes I bring the first half of the song in, and then have to construct the second half. And sometimes the whole things comes in, whammo. And I say gee, I sure am glad I do this.
"And then sometimes it's like hammering nails from the start. And sometimes that shit I made up is not a bad song."
Here are Rodney's comments on a few of his most famous pieces, art or otherwise:
'Til I Gain Control Again: Don't remember writing it. I know I wrote it, back in Nashville in the early days. A real mythical experience with that song, and I still perform it.
Song For the Life: First song I ever wrote that I kept. My first keeper. I wrote it when I was very young, and it was writing into the future about maturing. When it was finally a hit record, a couple of summers ago, I had lived to the age that I was writing about. That was something I enjoyed.
Ain't Living Long Like This: I like that song. That's a good piece of writing. Every word of it's true, although my father didn't die in a stock car! I'm glad I wrote it; I think that's a classic country rock song.
Voila, An American Dream: That was shortly after 'Song For the Life.' Maybe the second or third keeper. It's just a poor kid, livin' on $100 a week in Nashville, who wishes he could go somewhere. The only way to travel is through imagination.
Leaving Louisiana in the Broad Daylight: Wrote that one night during a break in a session; we were recording Mary Kay Place. That's where 'Mary' came from. She was an Oklahoma girl who liked to string phrases together. Mary and I hooked right up. We would get together and just be glib, just talk and run stuff together. We started it during a break, and I woke up the next morning and finished it.
On a Real Good Night: Early song. 'Sleeper wherever I fall' is a good line; the song to me today is a little self-conscious. But at the time I liked it a lot.
Anybody's Darling (Anything But Mine): Some songs are unfinished, to me. 'You're Supposed to Be Feeling Good' is sorta unfinished, and 'Anybody's Darling' is unfinished to me. As is 'Shame on the Moon.' They're real kind of impressionistic, subconscious first. Some of those songs don't come all the way home for me.
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues: Well, I was reading the Tom Robbins book. I was on the road with Emmy, and she was so much like the character in the book, in a lot of ways. I actually wrote that for her. Oddly enough, it was about Emmy and Susanna Clark. I had the two of 'em to write it toward.
Stars on the Water: I don't think it's a great song, but it was inspired writing at the time. Because I was buying all these books on impressionist painting, and reading everything I could. Gaining knowledge about all of their work, and using, in the process of writing, how they blurred reality a little bit. In order for it to give you an impression, as opposed to a focus. That, to me, was what stars on the water were: If Monet lived in Mobile, what he would see on those nights when the lights were reflecting on the water.
Shame on the Moon: Big song, big hit. Well known and shit, I still wish I could figure out the last verse. I just didn't get it. Mac Davis insulted me once. He said 'Man, you shoulda had me around when you were writing that last verse.'
Ballad of Fast Eddie: Peter Sheridan got killed on his motorcycle. He came to me in a dream, he was sitting there on the other side of this river. He was telling me 'I have something I want you to do,' and I wrote it the next day, on the plane to Hawaii. Emory Gordy and I put the music together. You'd ask him 'Peter, where are you from?' And he'd say 'A little place called Lonely, man.'
It's Such a Small World: I went to see this play called 'Nine,' with Raul Julia. It's a play about Fellini, the Italian film director. And I was totally gassed by the dialogue. I was sitting in the second row. I said 'I want to try my hand at writing a song that's dialogue.' And that's what happened, it was sort of an exercise for me, based on being inspired by that play.
I Couldn't Leave You If I Tried: OK song. As country songs go, pretty good. It's just a nice shuffle, I'm not too attached to it. It's not really about anything I've ever lived.
If Looks Could Kill: Oh, that was real. That was coming from real shit. I like that song better than 'I Couldn't Leave You If I Tried.'
She's Crazy For Leavin': Guy had that song when we were going to make one of his records. That was mostly Guy's writing - I didn't do much on that song, and I got rewarded for it real well. Probably, Guy got screwed on it.
After All This Time: I started writing it late '70s, when I was hanging around Willie a lot. It was just so Willie influenced: (Singing) 'There were trains … and we outrun 'em.' And then I lost it, or just forgot about it. Moved to Nashville and had an office. I was opening boxes just to see what was in there, and I found this notebook. I opened it, I remembered the melody, and I sat there right on top of those boxes and wrote the rest of the song. And that was why I called it 'After All This Time.'
Many a Long & Lonesome Highway: Will Jennings and I wrote that. Most of the songs that Will and I wrote together are his melodies and my lyrics. So that was Will's melody - he had that chorus, too. I just wrote the rest of it.
Things I Wish I'd Said: I sat with my father for four days in the hospital while he died. And he really died in my arms. It was really a great experience. When we got him buried, and I got my Mom settled, I went home and I wrote that in 20 minutes. That's a good piece of writing, I think.
Alone But Not Alone: I started that song in Westport, Connecticut. That's where Rosanne lived when she split. I booked passage to Albequerque. I went to Albequerque and rented a convertible and drove around. I went up to where Georgia O'Keeffe lived and painted. I spent about 10 days out there in New Mexico, just by myself. From there, I went to L.A. and hooked up with Larry Klein, and he helped me finish it off.
I Hardly Know How to Be Myself: I came home and the first two verses were sitting on my desk. I don't know if it was a plot, or whatever. But I sat down, I looked at it and I just wrote the rest of the song. I thought 'God, this is great. I hope nothin's going on.' Rosanne came in and I said 'What about this? I don't know if you had a melody, but I've written it.' She said 'I don't even remember that.' It's like both perspectives work - two opposites looking at an issue. Either side you look at it from, each individual's point of view works. It's pretty much the same point of view.
Life is Messy: I was sitting at the piano with one of those little recorders, and I just sang for 45 minutes. A bunch of crap, and I just kept playing it over and over and screaming out 'life is messy.' It was sorta like one of those John Lennon primal scream things. And everything that was on the song, I'd screamed into that little tape recorder. 'Life is Messy' doesn't hold up for me. I think 'life is messy' is a great line, and I know what I was driving at, but …
Let the Picture Paint Itself: We may have dressed it up a little too 'cute country,' but I can strip that song down and just play it on a guitar, and what it says is important. For me.
Still Learning How to Fly: It's the other death song. Maybe some of my best songs are for people who died. 'Things I Wish I'd Said,' 'Ballad of Fast Eddie,' 'We Want Everything.' 'Learning How to Fly' was Ernest Chapman, a friend of mine who had cancer. So I got real involved with his death process, because he was trying to put up a good fight as a legacy for his son. While at the same time, he knew he was leaving. So the song is about the dignity of that fight.