I had been working on a little cage of song, limited in scope and rigid in its boundaries. A song with four verses, three lines each, and a two line bridge.  The last line of each verse is the same, and the rhyme scheme is unchanged throughout. The verses still needed work. I wasn’t done. I needed to escape this cage.

Before too long, I felt like MacGyver, locked in this cage with only a toothpick, a piece of gum, and some matches. I had to get out—but how?

Well, the thing about songwriting is sometimes all your resources just aren’t enough. The threat of force is useless. And you can’t seem to outwit your opponent. You find you have to compromise.

A song can have everything, yes, but not necessarily all at once. Meaning, rhythm, rhyme, flow, metaphor. Occasionally in a lyric you can only pick two or three while the others have to wait in the car.

For example, Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America” has one of the starkest compromises in American song:

From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.

“White with foam”? Ouch. There are some words that definitely don’t belong in songs. I’d count “foam” among them. But what else could Berlin do? His goal is “God bless America, My home sweet home.” That line, that finale, is what the song is all about. And he needs a perfect rhyme with “home.” (And I’d say that this song would not tolerate an imperfect rhyme ending in “-one”.) His choices: roam, tome, comb, foam, dome…Yeesh. You get the idea.

Berlin compromised. He sacrificed the penultimate line for the last line. So while we do have that moving finale, we’re also stuck with “To the oceans, white with foam.” It’s like when that girl you’re crushing on says she’ll come to your party but only if she can bring her annoying, unattractive roommate.

After fifty minutes of bargaining with my song amidst the ipod-clad hipsters and students in the Diesel Cafe, talks ceased at closing time.

I realize now that before I started, I hadn’t committed to my list of demands. I’m still distinguishing my needs from my wants. Do I need a perfect rhyme at the end of the first line of each verse? Would just the right metaphor makeup for an imperfect one? Must the first line have precisely three syllables? Work like this represents the 90% of perspiration that follows the 10% of inspiration.

So I am still in negotiations with a song and sacrifices may need to be made.

That’s part of the thrill and challenge of songwriting though. I’ve laid down this gauntlet, this puzzle, this maze of words and sound, and it’s on me to make it out alive with something worth sharing with the world. Or maybe just me and my friends.

But there is no way I’m using the word “foam”.