For Wilshire Baptist Church
We were at SMU for a preview of “Country Music,” the new Ken Burns documentary series, and while we waited we heard the beautiful Emmylou Harris ballad, “Boulder to Birmingham.” I hadn’t thought about that song in years, and I went straight to Wikipedia on my phone and recalled that it was written by Harris and Bill Danoff. I know who he is because I’m a song lyric junkie, and you know him too if you’ve ever heard John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Danoff cowrote that song with his wife Taffy Nivert and with some final polishing from Denver before he recorded it.
This is where it gets interesting to me: Danoff has stated that he had never been to West Virginia before writing the song and in fact was living in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, D.C. when he wrote it. From that location, he briefly considered using Massachusetts rather than West Virginia in the opening lines and chorus, as in, “Almost heaven, Massachusetts,” because both states have four-syllable names, and both would have fit the song’s meter.
In the “Hymn Writing for All” class that I’ve co-taught for three weeks at Wilshire with Ralph Manuel, we’ve talked about meter and the importance of counting syllables to make sure a line of text fits the meter of a hymn tune. We’ve also talked about choosing words that fit a theme, and Danoff’s brief flirtation with Massachusetts shines a light on the importance of both meter and words. While Massachusetts would have fit the meter, it brings to mind Boston and New England fishing villages, and there’s just not anything “country roads” about that. On the other hand, West Virginia brings to mind blue mountains and smoky valleys. And I’m thinking that choosing West Virginia might have made a difference in the song’s future as a mega-hit for John Denver.
The big “ah-ha” I take away from this rabbit chase into song lyrics and such is that most of us hear, see or taste things that other people have done, we’re blown away by it, and we say, “There’s no way I can do that. I just don’t have the same gifts.” But if we dig a little deeper, we learn that the so-called “gifted” ones have to do exactly what you and I have to do: they have to roll up their sleeves and apply the basics.
Great chefs still have to measure out their ingredients. Concert pianists practice their scales. Marathoners stretch and train with shorter runs. Master gardeners amend and prepare the soil. Surgeons bone up on the newest research and procedures. Preachers study the scriptures and the commentators. Hit songwriters count syllables – and they probably count them on their fingers just like you and me.