STRATEGY TEN
Starting With “And …”

The Strategy's Advantage

What, you may wonder, is the advantage of starting a title or lyric with a word that lacks meaning. My response: “And…” offers a means to thrust your character into the middle of something, into the heat of the action, the debate, the emotion.… That single word might also prompt a more personal, or more original lyric than you may yet have written.

Some And … Examples

And … songs are special—not only for their rarity but for their distinctiveness. For example, Paul Simon's “Mrs. Robinson”: “And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,/Jesus loves you more than you will know….”; is a compelling opening to a memorable song. And … songs also frequently introduce uncommon themes. For instance, Joe Raposo's “There Used to Be a Ballpark” draws us into the middle of a wistful recollection of Ebbets Field and lost youth: “And there used to be a ballpark/Where the field was warm and green.” Similarly, in “When October Goes,” the Johnny Mercer/Barry Manilow ballad, “And” starts the autumnal reverie of a life past its prime, “And when October goes/the snow begins to fly….” And, of course, Paul Anka's English lyric for the French ballad “My Way” thrusts us into that moment in which the singer is coming to terms with his life: “And now the end is near/And so I face that final curtain.…”

Prewriting Suggestion

This exercise again calls for spontaneity—but not for wordplay in the sense of play on a word, but play from a word. Your activating process can be written and/or verbal. You might start to free associate from the word and … on an unlined blank paper to give randomness a chance to expand. (The use of some centering music in the background would help your feelings flow and words to emerge.)

Or you could “voice activate” the lyric by verbal brainstorming: Turn on your cassette recorder and pretend you're in conversation with someone. Try out different opening gambits:

“And I don't know why you're telling me this.…”
“And I'm not going, that's all there is to it.”
“And I don't care what your father said!”
“And what if I should tell you that…”

And here's a sample of what might happen:

An And … Opening Line: Example No. 1 (AABA)
IT HASN'T BEEN THAT WAY AT ALL

And the sun still rises.
And the sun still sets.
Spring turns into summer,
And summer into fall….
When you left, I thought
The world would come to a halt.
But IT HASN'T BEEN THAT WAY AT ALL.

The moon still waxes,
And the moon still wanes.
The stars still twinkle,
And the tides still rise and fall;
I'd have thought they'd notice
When we two split apart.
But IT HASN'T BEEN THAT WAY AT ALL.

Though I've had to make some little changes,
Like cooking for one, instead of two–
Like saying, “I” instead of saying “we,”
Like getting a whole new point of view–
(Which is hard to do),

Still, I go through the motions.
And I say things are fine.
I come out smiling
And I practice standing tall.
In time, I'll get over you,
But somehow, as yet,
IT HASN'T BEEN THAT WAY AT ALL,
No, IT HASN'T BEEN THAT WAY AT ALL.
And the sun still rises …
© 1991 Rebecca Holtzman. Used with permission.

Comment

Rebecca Holtzman's earlier lyrics “Thick of Getting Thin” and “Gruntled, Sheveled and Couth” typify her breezy wordplaying style. The spontaneity of the And … led her to a more reflective place and expanded her emotional spectrum. So here we find references to the sun and moon and stars–not her usual down-to-earth vocabulary. This is an example of what I mean by the possibility of And… leading you to a more feeling lyric than you may yet have written. The song, introduced at an ASCAP-sponsored showcase at the John Houseman Theatre, brought Rebecca's talents to the attention of New York's cabaret community.

An And … Opening Line: Example No. 2 (AAA)
AND HE WOULD SAY …

AND HE WOULD SAY,“I'm sure that we've met before.”
I'd shake my head and smile at the marble floor.
And he would say, “I couldn't forget that face.
I've looked into those eyes some other place.”
I'd start to walk away–
He'd somehow make me stay–
Oh, yes–that's when he'd say, “You've haunted me.”

Then HE WOULD SAY: “It seems like yesterday–
That woman in the painting by Manet,
Seated on a balcony painted green
Dressed in white, surveying the Paris scene,
Holding in her hand
A folded ivory fan.
Are you that same enchanted beauty?”

I'd laugh and say, “I've never set foot in France!”
A waltz would play and we would begin to dance.
And he'd say, “But I recognize your perfume.
It comes to me at night in my room–
Yes, every single night–
And see–you're wearing white!
I loved you at first sight!
How I've wanted you!”

He'd lead me through a broad brocaded hall
To two of those French windows twelve feet tall.
He'd gaze at me and fling the windows wide.
I'd take his hand and step outside–

(instrumental interlude)

Then high above Paree
On that balcony
He would say to me, “Remember?”

He'd whisper: “I have loved you since time began.”
I'd tilt my head and open an ivory fan.
The air so warm, I needn't wear a shawl–
And somehow I would have a parasol
And he would kiss my ivory brow
And I'd say: “I remember it now …”

AND HE WOULD SAY …

And I would say …

AND HE WOULD SAY …

© 1991 Franceses Blumenthal. Used with permission.

Comment

And I would say that “And He Would Say” took the writer of “Black and White Movie” and “Acapulco”–to the ultimate in romantic fantasy. Quite coincidentally, the lyric shares elements with “The Ultimate Night”–the marble floors, the French setting and the balcony. But where “Ultimate” presents the wishful thinking of a singer bored with her mundane existence, “And He Would Say” brings us into a surreal world that incorporates features of Edouard Manet's famous painting The Balcony. A unique lyric. Mated to the ideal melody, the song had a Town Hall debut at The Second Cabaret Convention and has since charmed its way into the New York cabaret repertoire and a CD by artist Gloria Stevens.

WrapUp

After you've tried the And… strategy, you might take a cue from Francesca Blumenthal and seek lyric concepts from the realm of art. It's only rarely been tapped: Jay Livingston and Ray Evans turned the “Mona Lisa” into a Nat King Cole golden oldie. Don McLean's tribute to “Vincent” (van Gogh) has become an unexpected standard. And Georges Seurat's masterpiece “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,” served as the matrix for an entire Broadway musical by Stephen Sondheim. A vast world of art still awaits to be rhymed.