Songs that Sing Us

Throwback to the time I met my favorite songwriter, Jon Foreman, and the guys from Switchfoot. Who's writing your life in lyrics?

Every single person should actively seek out that songwriter whose lyrics speak his or her life. Not songs we admire or appreciate or even love. These people write songs that feel like our own thoughts, but better or clearer or more useful than we could make them ourselves. We don’t listen to these songs. We remember them before we’ve ever heard them.

I’ve found mine. Grew up in the same town as him. That’s likely one of the reasons I love his work so much. But more, in his lyrics I hear the same wrestling match I find myself in. Doubt and faith. Anger and grace. Fear and resistance. More questions than answers. In it all, however, there is a hope that refuses to be anything more than present, even when it feels like it shouldn’t be. Sometimes, it’s as if I’m hearing his side of a conversation the two of us are having. I’m pretty sure that’s the greatest compliment I can pay his work.

I hear people say all the time that a particular artist inspires them. Moves them. Challenges them. I say, look for a writer whose words feel ultimately familiar and foreign in the same moment. And let them take you to church.

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Nostalgia alert: I miss songs with space in them—solos and silence and moments when we weren’t necessarily waiting for the next line.

Anti-nostalgia alert: That doesn’t mean that every song with space built in earns it. I’m looking at you prefabricated 80s metal bands with paint by the number guitar solos and ridiculous electronica/house/sample-recyclers who think the mere act of looping is art.

Double nostalgia alert: I miss when making enough good songs to warrant an entire album was mainstream.

Double anti-nostalgia alert: There are so many artists who should never make another album. Just keep making singles until your 15 seconds pass.