Kill Your Darlings

We’re working on some new material for the next Jersey Calling album, and as I’m writing I keep coming back to a phrase I often heard in journalism school: “kill your darlings” (or sometimes the more vivid “kill your babies”). Basically, it is instruction to a writer to never get too attached to a character, a quote, a turn of phrase or a particular clip of writing. It may be beautiful, or technically proficient, or something entirely original that no one else could possibly produce. But that bit you’re so proud of – a concept you’ve raised from an infant, an idea so well-crafted and simply wonderful – it might not fit the overall piece.

And you’re gonna have to cut it. 

With songwriting for a band, you start to recognize the darlings that need to go. It’s hard to feign enthusiasm for a tempo change or a bridge that doesn’t add to the story, and those noncommittal shrugs from your bandmates are saying something. And if you’re the only one excited about that part that you’ve brought to the table, it’s time to let it go. Because everyone in the band has their darlings. And if each band member protects their darlings, you’ll never finish the song. Or, the final product won’t sound like a coherent piece of music. Instead, it will sound like four or five musicians each committed to their own ideas, playing in their own directions, and the listener won’t ever be able to grab ahold of it and feel an emotional connection. Even more importantly, you won’t be able to connect with it. You’ll be just waiting for your part, and ignoring the rest. 

To do that requires allowing yourself to be extremely vulnerable with your band, and with yourself. And it requires the whole band to embrace that vulnerability in themselves, too. There’s strength in recognizing your collective humanity. All of us have our flaws, and all of us are blessed from time to time with moments of brilliance. And if everyone can keep that in mind, then that vulnerability will open up some damn good songwriting.