Song Quotes - Page 172

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Listen kid, take my advice, never hate a song that has sold half a million copies.

When I first started to get into writing, it was via music. I'd generate ideas for songs that would turn into stories, then they'd turn into novels. I was biased toward music.

The song succeeds or fails just based on whether you argue your point successfully. I like throwing images together, which create meaning if you listen to it one time, but if you listen to it another time you might get a different meaning.

We play some smaller songs larger than they are the record, and vice versa. It took me a while to get used to playing live.

Some of the songs I wanted to be really full, [but] there's something to be said for just a voice and a guitar

I have favourite songs for different things. The diversity of it is the strength.

I love lyrics. I've always been averse to the straight lyric idea. I guess a big part of it is, that songs that are literary always turn me off. Because they feel so abstract. Like a song. What is a song? We have to remember what the function of a concert and the function of playing a song for people are. It's all become really abstracted.

When we go on about the big things, the political situation, global warming, world poverty, it all looks really terrible, with nothing getting better, nothing to look forward to. But when I think small, closer in - you know, a girl I've just met, or this song we're going to do with Chas, or snowboarding next month, then it looks great. So this is going to be my motto - think small.

Martin, Dave, and I get together and rough out a few songs and put them on cassettes for some reference...With the actual music, I'm not interested in objectivity, quite the opposite. I want a solely and totally subjective experience...A lot of pop music is about stealing pocket money from children.

...yesterday and today and tomorrow are not an arrow that shoots from past to present to future; rather all tenses, and sleeping and waking, mix and cohabit in an atemporal duration beyond clocks and calendars. The Aboriginal world began long ago when the Ancestors sang in Dreamtime the cosmic rhythms that give shape to the things we see, and it is the beginning right now, when a living Tiwi sings the Dream songs that continue, or are, the world.

Any time I write a new song, I am jazzed about it for like 24 hours and then I am over it and want to write another one.

A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does not mis-become a monarch.

All songs have those X factors. I couldn't even explain or describe what will grab me about them but it's all music that I'm usually listening to. I'm always looking there to hear new music and see what's going on so that's usually when I'll hear something and be like "Wow, that melody is really crazy.

Among all men on the earth bards have a share of honor and reverence, because the muse has taught them songs and loves the race of bards.

To come to a concert and hear a lot of songs from a female perspective should not make men say, 'Oh well, that's for women'.

The biggest reason was that when I started deejaying, I'd said that the other DJs in Japan were like salaried employees who I really didn't want to emulate because they didn't even know the titles of the songs they were playing - just that they were playing a hot track or whatever - which I didn't appreciate at all. I realized that I had become just like the kind of DJ that I used to hate, with no knowledge, so I decided that I needed to be honest with myself and quit.

The popular will cannot be taken for granted, it must be created.

I don't think radio is selling records like they used to. They'd hawk the song and hawk the artist and you'd get so excited, you'd stop your car and go into the nearest record store.

At the bottom of every leaf-stem is a cradle, and in it is an infant germ; the winds will rock it, the birds will sing to it all summer long, but the next season it will unfold and go alone.

History casts its shadow far into the land of song.

Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.

Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives, Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain, But never will be sung to us again, Is they remembrance. Now the hour of rest Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling: it is best.

I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,--in the genial Summertime.

Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.