The album cuts

Whereas the Mona Lisa is perpetually surrounded by crowds, you can walk right up to Ginevra de' Benci at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. to see another fine example of da Vinci’s work. (Image source)

I have always marveled over the architecture of hit songs.

How does the magic happen? How does the songwriter construct the perfect blend of familiar and novel? How can one song appeal to so many people at once? And how can it be so durable, standing up to repeated listening even as it burrows its way into your brain such that you will be able to, ever after, hear it without listening to it?

I have never created a hit song, but I have been able to come up with a few catchy choruses in my day. It was so satisfying to crack part of the code. It seems like the most incredible accomplishment to be able to put all of the pieces together and come up with something that tops the charts and stands the test of time.

Years ago, I heard Lamont Dozier speak at a conference about the writing and recording of The Supremes’ 1964 hit, “Where Did Our Love Go?” Apparently Diana Ross hated the song and resented having to sing it, which gave her performance just the right edge. Decades after the song was written and recorded, the whole story has a tinge of destiny — of dozens of tiny decisions, each made just right in order to send the song all the way to number one.

When I was in my teens, I made mix tapes obsessively. I didn’t like to listen to albums all the way through, preferring to free their most lustrous gems from their settings and place them alongside the others like them.

I still love a good hit just as much as I always did, but over the years I’ve developed a deeper appreciation of the songs I neglected when I was curating my mix tapes. I no longer see these album cuts as failed would-be hits. I’ve come to understand that not everything is meant to be a hit, and some artists (gasp!) don’t try to write hits at all.

The non-hits — the album cuts — have a special role to play on an album, especially when telling a particular story. Unlike a pop hit, which generally has to adhere to certain constraints (a memorable hook, a catchy chorus, a relatable premise, and a tight running time), the album cut can do and be anything it wants. The album cut is the quirky younger sister of the heir to the throne, free from scrutiny, left alone to try new things and be a little weird.

So, of course “Kodachrome” and “Loves Me Like a Rock” are immortal hits from Paul Simon’s 1972 album, There Goes Rhymin’ Simon, but I love the bizarre “One Man’s Ceiling is Another Man’s Floor,” the story of some “strange goings on” in an apartment complex.

And while “Pinball Wizard” is the pop centerpiece of The Who’s Tommy, it wouldn’t be the classic album it is without the instrumental “Sparks,” which evokes Tommy’s inner world.

The album cuts are critical for the pacing and storytelling of many an album. They give the listener an opportunity to reflect on what has come before and prepare for what’s next.

These songs give the dedicated fan an opportunity to go deeper into an artist’s vision, allowing them to enjoy not just the public-facing singles meant for broad appeal, but also their more challenging, innovative works. These less accessible offerings may take more listens to absorb and appreciate, but the effort can pay off powerfully.

It seems to me, as well, that the album cuts give the artists themselves a way to find the fullest expression of their own creativity, away from the constant pressure to produce something commercial for mass consumption.

Sure, the singles keep the lights on, but trying to write only singles would be exhausting and demoralizing for an artist who would then be forced to leave aside anything that doesn’t take the shape of a pop hit. Then the world would be deprived of masterpieces like, The Zombies’ “This Will Be Our Year” and Solange’s “Binz.”

We can keep these ideas in mind in our own work. Whether something is a hit or not does not determine its value. While we want to create things that we feel good about, we do not have to crank out only shiny, unthreatening, easily consumable nuggets. We can experiment and challenge ourselves, inviting the intrepid to come along with us.

True, it’s nice to rack up a hit once in awhile. But there’s just as much value, and sometimes more, in our album cuts.