The context: This is the end of act I song from the musical I'm writing called Nothing Like Broadway. Milo, the lighting guy schlub, is at his lowest. He's giving up on the theater, the city, and abandoning his friends who need his help. He can't even write a proper goodbye letter. So he records them a voice memo, but he still can't find the right words. Also, he's taken a super-secret experimental spy pill to enhance his brain, but even that isn't working. He thinks out loud that it would be great if only he could sing his feelings. But he can't. Can he?
A little about the creation of the song: This was conceptually so hard. I think it's funny when people "sing" in a musical, but they're not really singing (in the world of the show). But then in another scene, they are really singing (in the world of the show). It's the sort of thing that writers stress about, but audiences don't really notice. So how to convey a moment where the character and the audience don't know if he's "singing" in his head (like in a musical), or actually spontaneously singing out loud for real? It took a couple of versions and several months. Also, musically, I wanted the verse to be unexpected and weird, like synapses firing all around his brain, then coming together. So the time signature(s) are unusual, and the intervals are unusual, then it gets simpler toward the end of the verse, then it ends on a nice, easy last three notes. And it's fun to write a barely literate character becoming a showy wordsmith right before our eyes (and it's fun for me to show off good... word... things).
A little about the creation of the song: This was conceptually so hard. I think it's funny when people "sing" in a musical, but they're not really singing (in the world of the show). But then in another scene, they are really singing (in the world of the show). It's the sort of thing that writers stress about, but audiences don't really notice. So how to convey a moment where the character and the audience don't know if he's "singing" in his head (like in a musical), or actually spontaneously singing out loud for real? It took a couple of versions and several months. Also, musically, I wanted the verse to be unexpected and weird, like synapses firing all around his brain, then coming together. So the time signature(s) are unusual, and the intervals are unusual, then it gets simpler toward the end of the verse, then it ends on a nice, easy last three notes. And it's fun to write a barely literate character becoming a showy wordsmith right before our eyes (and it's fun for me to show off good... word... things).
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If I Could Sing My Feelings (End of Act I)
Music & Lyrics by David Rackoff MILO IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS, IF I COULD SING GOOD WORDS. IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS, I WOULD SAY… THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO HAVE A THOUGHT, RIGHT?, THEN ONE MORE FOLLOWS FAST. LIKE ME, I NOW HAVE A THOUGH, RIGHT?, BUT NOW THE MOMENT’S PASSED. SO IF I COULD GRAB ALL THESE THOUGHT, AND CONNECT THEM LINK BY LINK, I THINK I’D BE VERY THOUGHTFUL, BUT THAT’S NOT HOW I THINK. THEN I’D FOLLOW MY LOGIC, AND JOIN EV’RY JOINT. MY PERFECT BRAIN MADE A PERFECT THOUGHT, THAT THOUGHT WOULD MAKE A PERFECT POINT. I WOULD PAINT EACH WORD, EV’RY PHRASE IN THE PERFECT PURPLE HUE. I’D PICK EACH NIT VERY NEATLY WITH NOT A NOTE ASKEW. AS THE MELODY MEETS THE METER, WITH NOT A SOUND TOO SOON. EACH TOE TIP TAPS TO A TIP TOP TIP TIPPY, TAPPY TUNE. FROM A THOUGHT TO A WHIM, THEN A WHIM TO A RIFF, I’D SING OUT LOUD ALL MY FAV’RITE FEELINGS IS, IF, IF, AND ONLY IF… IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS. GEE, THAT’D BE SO NICE. IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS. BUT I CAN’T. IF AN EGG SAC MADE UP OF IMAGERY SLID FROM OUT MY GUT, A SINGLE EGG JITTERED OPENING, OPEN, OPEN, SHUT. THEN THE EYE-BALL OF AN IDEA, IT PEEKS OUT FROM INSIDE. IT SCUTTLES OUT IN CREATION, THEN SCURRIES OFF TO HIDE. IS IT DRAGON, OR BIRD, OR A CONSCIOUS CROISSANT? IT’S VISCERA THAT HAS FOUND A FORM, AND FORMED INTO MY WILDEST WANT. LIKE THAT, BUT IN MY OWN WORDS… IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS. LOUD AS MY HOPES ALLOW. IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS. IF I COULD FIGURE HOW. IF I COULD SING MY FEELINGS, JUST LIKE I’M DOING NOW! WHAT THE HELL? IS THIS REALLY BEING SUNG? OR ONLY IN MY HEAD? SHOULD I BELIEVE MY TONGUE? OR JUST TRUST MY DOUBT INSTEAD? ‘CAUSE I KNOW I HAVE NO SKILL. BUT STILL I HAVE MY DREAMS. PERHAPS THIS LITTLE PILL IS FAR LARGER THAN IT SEEMS! WILL ALL MY BURNING YEARNING LONGING FIN’LLY BE REWARDED? IF ONLY THIS IMPLORING SOARING SONG-ING SIMPLY WERE RECORDED. RECORDED. RECORDED! (HE CHECKS THE RECORDING. IT IS RECORDED!) WHERE THE INSIDE BITS OF MY NOGGIN WERE DUSTY, DIM, AND DARK, NOW EV’RY NEURON IS SPITTING A NERVE-Y NEURAL SPARK. NOW I’M NOTICING THAT THE MICROPHONE SPORTS A SUBTLE DENT. EACH FLECK OF DUST, EV’RY PHOTON, EACH BREATH FEELS HEAVEN SENT. SO IF SINGING MY FEELINGS IS NOW WHAT I DO, I’LL SING ON STAGE, AND BE BRAVE AND BOLD, AND FALL IN LOVE? I’LL DO THAT, TOO. TAKE LIGHT CUE NUMBER TWENTY. I’M GONNA SING MY FEELINGS. I’M GONNA STAY AND FIGHT. FIRST I SHOULD PEE, AND MINGLE, ’TIL WHEN THEY FLASH THE LIGHT. IN ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES, THEN I WILL SAVE THE SPY. I’M GONNA THWART THE BAD GUYS, I’M GONNA GET THE GUY! I'M GONNA BE THE HERO. FIN’LLY I’M GETTING MY FONDEST WISH! BUT FIRST… INTERMISH. |
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