Productive Co-Writing
Background: In modern day pop music, it has become somewhat of a trend for producers to be listed as co-writers on various tracks. Sometimes this is because a producer comes up with a line, other times, like in the case of Max Martin and Benny Blanco, it is because the sound is so unique to that producer. (Seriously: the former wrote “...Baby One More Time” and used the same chords for that intro in the Backstreet Boys’ “Larger Than Life”.) While “...Baby One More Time” was solely written by Martin, and “Larger Than Life” lists Martin, Kristian Lundin, and Backstreet Boys member, Brian Luttrell as co-writers, it is not uncommon for pop songs to have seven or more co-writers listed on the track, including the producer. And while this practice certainly has its place, this blog will focus on producers who helped artists write deeply personal tracks, and are therefore listed as the only other co-writer on the song. Before we dive in, I want to acknowledge that when I initially conceived the idea for this blog, I wanted to feature songs whose parent album only has one producer, and that producer is the only co-writer on the song (besides the singer) I discuss in this blog. And while the second part remains true throughout, it was very hard to find albums within the moody pop genre that achieved this. Of the four artists I discuss, only Alanis Morissette and Olivia Rodrigo had one producer and co-writer throughout the album in question (minus the interpolations Rodrigo used on 4 of her songs). Speaking of people named Olivia that I admire, I want to shout out my best friend Olivia (not Rodrigo), for helping me come up with the idea for this blog, while we were talking about pop music from 2007.
“You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette
Lyrically: Like many of the other songs on Jagged Little Pill, “You Oughta Know” focuses on the angst that comes with the end of a relationship, and more specifically, knowing the person who cheated on you is having the time of his life with his affair. If you take out every line of the song, except the first, “I want you to know that I’m happy for you. I wish nothing but the best for you both,” this is a beautiful love song. But later in the song, she sings some of my favorite lines ever, “Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity? I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner,” “Do you think of me when you f*ck her?,” and “It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me.” Now to the aforementioned producer’s role in this song. After her second album flopped, Alanis was paired with veteran producer Glen Ballard, and to say they hit it off is a huge understatement. Not only did he help find the right sounds for what would become Jagged Little Pill, but he helped her center her emotions around exactly what she wanted to say. It is for this reason that he is listed as a co-writer, in addition to a producer of the album. In the sessions, he would have her write songs in the moment and they would go and record them each day, after they were written. Writing in the studio is not an uncommon practice – Lennon and McCartney did it all the time. But one of the results of the aforementioned Beatles studio co-writes was “Birthday,” and I don’t think a whole lot of people would argue that it has the same emotional charge as “You Oughta Know.”
Melodically: This song is written in the key of E. The verses use F#m and B, the pre-chorus uses those chords plus an A, while the chorus uses F#, E, A, and B. The interlude uses F# and B. The song features an all-star cast of musicians, with Red Hot Chili Peppers members Flea and Dave Navarro on bass and guitar, respectively, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers member, Benmont Tench on organ, as well as veteran drummer, Matt Luag.
Structurally: The song follows a verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus, solo, pre-chorus, chorus format.
In closing, I want to talk about how rare the chemistry between Morissette and Ballard truly was. Six years after Jagged Little Pill was released, The Dave Matthews Band released an album called Everyday, produced by Glen Ballard. The band had an album, produced by Steve Lillywhite, and containing a much darker tone than the songs on Everyday; Lillywhite’s recordings were rejected by the label. The band and fans alike have dismissed the Glen Ballard sessions, because it broke up the normal recording process of the band jamming in the studio and working out the songs themselves. Even Alanis admitted that her Ballard-produced followup, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie, didn’t carry the same emotional weight as its predecessor. Sometimes lightning only strikes once, but getting the right producer at the right moment can make all the difference.
I’m here to remind you that “You Oughta Know” is embedded below.
2. “Never Again” by Kelly Clarkson
Background: After winning the first season of American Idol in 2002, Kelly Clarkson was shuffled into the spotlight, releasing her debut album in 2003 and her sophomore effort in 2004. By the time both albums were released and both touring cycles were complete, Clarkson was burned out, which led to her canceling meet and greets with fans, with her only respite being songwriting. The songs she wrote for the album would become My December, with a much darker tone than its predecessors. There was only one problem: Her label had built up an image of a happy superstar, and were not thrilled with what she turned in. But Kelly, channeling her inner George Costanza, refused to compromise her artistic integrity (and unlike him, she is artistic and she has integrity!) and the album was released as it was originally written.
Lyrically: The song expresses the hope that an ex’s new lover will experience the worst. It starts out by saying “I hope the ring you gave her turns her finger green,” and dismisses the typical toxic patterns of behavior that a person like this tends to exhibit, by saying, “I never read your letter, ‘cause I knew what you’d say. Give me that Sunday School answer, try to make it all okay.” If any of this sounds like something you’ve already read in this blog, it’s because Kelly admitted to Jagged Little Pill being a great inspiration for this record. The album as a whole was produced by David Kahne, Jason Halbert, and Jimmy Messer, while this song was written by Clarkson and Messer. A key component to effective co-writing is listening to each other. Usually this happens even before any lyrics are put to paper. Sometimes that takes the form of “Throw things to the wall and see what sticks,” but in this case, with Kelly’s emotions flowing freely, the idea was there and Jimmy helped bring it to life, fleshing out the lyrics and finding a melodic line of best fit for the message she was trying to convey.
Melodically: The song is driven by an electric guitar riff, with various fills throughout. The guitar and vocals start, before the drums come in with “I never read your letter.” Background vocals accompany her vocals in the chorus. In the second verse, the main riff drops out until “But when your day comes,” with the first half being driven by bass and drums. The bridge contains only drums and vocals in the first half, before the guitar comes back in. With the capo on the 3rd fret, the song uses Gm, Dm, C, and Gm in the intro and verses, while the pre-chorus uses Dm, C, Gm, Dm, C, and Eb. The chorus then goes to Gm, Bb which repeats 3 times before ending on a D#, and repeating that pattern for the rest of the chorus, until the last line, which goes to Gm. The bridge shuffles between Gm and D#. The song as a whole is written in Gm.
Structurally: The song follows a verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus, bridge, chorus pattern. We have looked at some songs where the pre-chorus, the first time it is sung, transitions back into another verse. In the case of a breakup song like this, focused immediately on wishing pain on her ex and his new flame, that structure would not make any sense, but the pre-chorus builds enough tension up until the chorus, and the chorus goes for the ultimate gut punch. The bridge almost feels like she’s talking to herself but doubting it (with its calm nature) before she finally settles defiantly on “Never again!” in the last chorus.
My rule for this blog was one producer/co-writer per artist, and the song had to be defiantly heart-felt, rather than a generically produced pop song that people can listen to in the background. In searching for another example, I came across Ben Moody, who is the former guitarist for Evanesence, and has worked with Hana Pestle and Avril Levigne on various projects. Although he did not fit this blog for being a lyrical co-writer, he’s a very talented musician and composer, and definitely someone worth checking out, if you’re looking for tips on how to share your sound with a certain artist.
“Never Again” is embedded below.
3. “Someone Like You” by Adele
Background: Somewhere around October of 2010, Adele was putting the finishing touches on her sophomore effort, 21, on the heels of a breakup from her longtime boyfriend. Although there were slower songs on the record, most people probably remember the singles selection for songs like “Rolling in the Deep” and “Rumor Has It,” which showcased Adele’s power vocals. But it wasn’t until “Someone Like You” was written when she really felt like she could have some closure on both the album and the relationship in question. This was in large part thanks to her producer, Dan Wilson, known for his work with Semisonic and more recently, writing “Not Ready to Make Nice,” with The Dixie Chicks.
Lyrically: This song takes place after running into an ex while he is with his new significant other. Interestingly, it plays just like a normal song conversation, using the word “you,” without regard for whether the person is listening or not, but reveals she is actually seeing him face to face in the first verse, “Old friend, why are you so shy? You know it’s not like you to hide from the light,” followed by the pre-chorus, “I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it.” One common thread I have noticed in Dan’s songs that he’s written for other artists, and his own songs, is that he’s incredibly good at writing pre-choruses and bridges. The framework for the song was done, and when he came in, he helped throw those two pieces in. Maybe it’s my Minnesota bias, with Dan being from there as well, but I think those are the strongest parts of the song, because they really take the song to two different levels when they’re sung.
Melodically: The song has a distinct piano part that is played throughout. The intro uses A, C#m/G, F#m, D, while the verses use A, C#m/G#, F#m, D, A, C#m/G#, F#m, and D. The pre-chorus uses E9, F#m, D, E9, F#m, D, and F#m. The chorus uses a A, E, F#m and D progression throughout, played 5 times. The bridge uses E, F#m, D, Bm, A, D, and E.
Structurally: The song uses a verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus, bridge, chorus structure.
In an earlier blog, I talked about the song “Borrowed,” written by LeAnn Rimes, Dan Wilson, and Darrell Brown, and included Dan Wilson’s version of it from his album Re-Covered. For that same album, Dan also recorded a version of “Someone Like You,” which you can find linked below, along with Adele’s version.
4. “Drivers License” by Olivia Rodrigo
Background: In early 2021, I had heard about this song called “Drivers License” by somebody named Olivia Rodrigo. I normally rely on my students to tell me about new songs they like, but this one I discovered on my own. The next Monday, I opened every single one of my classes by telling my students how ashamed I was that they didn’t have the courtesy to tip me off to this gem.
Now let’s go back to 2021, or 2020, when this song was written by a 17 year old Disney actress named Olivia Rodrigo. You probably remember feeling pretty isolated in 2020, and even though she was famous, she was no exception. As one of my former students gleefully accounted, Olivia had just gone through a breakup. Not just a breakup, but her boyfriend and co-star at the time, cheated on her with another girl. What is one to do but write an angsty breakup song about it?!
Lyrically: The song deals with the life-changing event of one getting their driver’s license. A driver’s license is a right of passage for a teen. Sure, they may still need to get permission to take their parents’ car out, but they still have the freedom to go pretty much anywhere once they get that permission. While unlike me, it probably didn’t take Olivia 10 tries to pass her exam, there’s an important weight that is placed on the passing of her test between her and her boyfriend. The opening line is, “I got my driver’s license last week, just like we always talked about. ‘Cause you were so excited for me to finally drive up to your house.” There are many songs that talk about the plans you once made with your ex and how those plans have now been broken. But this song sounded fresh. She continues to talk about what life is like now that this momentous occasion of being able to drive on her own has finally arrived, but he’s no longer in her life. “Today I drove through the suburbs, crying ‘cause you weren’t around,” “Today I drove through the suburbs and pretended I was driving home to you.” The juxtaposition of independence against the emotions she’s feeling about the end of this relationship, feeling trapped in a hell loop of sorts, is just incredibly powerful.
Now let’s talk about her producer’s role in this particular song’s creation. Daniel Nigro (pronounced N-eye-grow) discovered Olivia on TikTok in 2020. At the time, those videos could only be 60 seconds in length, but Daniel was sold by the short bursts he saw from her account. The role of a producer is to get the feel of the song from the writer and help achieve that, melodically, lyrically, and structurally (hence the three categories in my blog, though I am no producer), and Nigro did just that with “Drivers License,” along with all the other tracks on the album. There are only four tracks on the album with co-writers other than Nigro and Rodrigo (three of which are due to interpolating other songs), but to me, “Driver’s License” is the most emotionally raw of the six co-written solely by the producer and singer. Of course most of that has to do with the angsty teenager behind the microphone, but Daniel did a fabulous job fleshing out the song and turning it into what it became on the record.
Melodically: The song is written in the key of Bb. The intro sounds like a key fob unlocking a car to go somewhere. The verses use Bb, Gm, Eb, and Bb. The chords played in the first two lines of the verse (“And I know we weren’t perfect, but I’ve never felt this way for no one. And I just can’t imagine how you could be so okay now that I’m gone), have an upward melodic climb over the Eb, where the melody steps up by starting that note (as the chorus uses Eb, Bb, Eb, Bb, followed by Gm, F, Bb, Dm7, and Eb (starting with the “Guess you didn’t mean what you wrote in that song about me” line, followed by Eb6, F, and Bb (starting with “‘Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street.”) The bridge uses Gm, Eb, Bb, F, Gm, Eb, Bb, and F, repeated twice.
Structurally: The song follows a verse, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus format, with the last chorus repeating the last line of the chorus, “‘Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street.” Let’s go back to the bridge for a second. My god, the bridge. First of all, a well-functioning musical bridge is supposed to take the song to a different place. The two verses are pretty standard, melodically, and the chorus, though heartbreaking, feels pretty much the same. But the bridge is booming, recounting old memories about the places they used to go in the car, the sidewalks they used to walk on before they were able to drive, and the admission that, “I still f*cking love you, babe.” Pop music has a bad habit of being formulaic both in and coming out of the bridge, oftentimes going to an a cappella chorus. To me, this practice kills the momentum you had going with the bridge, and defeats the purpose of even having one. By comparison to the bridge, the last chorus feels subdued, though it is not a cappella. Instead, this bridge gets out all the emotions she felt: anger, sadness, confusion, and maybe a little bit of desperation, followed by a mellower chorus that seems to be accepting the relationship’s fate. There is little doubt in my mind that this decision was made by Mr. Nigro while deciding what the song needed to pack the biggest punch for the listener. This is what a good producer and a good co-writer do.
“Drivers License” is embedded below.
In closing, I want to offer a word of advice, whether you are a songwriter in need of a producer or a producer in need of a songwriter. I have a tremendous amount of respect for all four of these producers, and would scream joyfully if I ever got to work with any of them. However, that might not always be a viable option. My suggestion to you, especially if you write deeply personal songs like the ones discussed in this blog, is to find a producer who really understands you as a person and as a writer. Sometimes this is lightning in a bottle, like Glen Ballard and Alanis Morissette. Sometimes you can find the right producer through social media, like Olivia Rodrigo did. And sometimes you rely on the human connection that Dan Wilson provides. But whatever you do, make sure they know and agree with where you want to take the music.
If you are a producer looking for a songwriter, believe in what you do. The sounds you are able to create with the singer are what makes you unique as a producer. The ear you will lend to the songwriter will be absolutely invaluable for the song, and more importantly, your personal relationships. If you’re going to bring something valuable to the table, to the tune of getting a co-writing credit, the suggestions you provide must be aligned with the emotion the songwriter is trying to convey. If you can do that, you’ll have a partner for life. And I promise you, the things you’re doing as a producer are the same things the producers listed above are doing–it’s just a matter of exposure.
