I have no musical talent whatsoever. I can’t play an instrument (other than a kazoo). I don’t even know how to read music. But I do appreciate music.
On the other hand, I like to think I have a way with words. I fancy myself to be a writer. Okay, maybe not a writer, but a blogger who writes using words.
But getting back to music, when I was a lot younger, like back in high school back in the Sixties, I loved instrumentals, musical records without lyrics. If these instrumental songs resonated with me, I would sit down, pen in hand, and compose lyrics to the songs, sometimes related to the song’s title, and sometimes totally unrelated.
Once I finished writing my lyrics, I would put the record (one of those 45s with the big hole in the center) on my record player, set up my cheap reel-to-reel tape recorder, and record myself singing the lyrics I wrote while the instrumental song was playing.
I admit that my singing voice left a lot to be desired, but when I played back the recordings with me singing lyrics I wrote, for my friends, they were always pretty impressed. Or maybe they were just being kind to the dorky kid who would sit down and write lyrics to instrumental songs recorded by other artists.
Unfortunately, it never occurred to my pragmatic self at the time that there was a career to be had by being a lyrics writer, or a lyricist. All I would have had to do would be to hook up with someone who could write the music, and oh what a team we could have been. I could have been Bernie Taupin to Elton John. Oscar Hammerstein to Richard Rodgers. W.S. Gilbert to Arthur Sullivan. Tim Rice to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Oh well. Live and learn, right?
Written for my one-word challenge, instrumental.