Less

The first thing I want to teach you is less. Less words. Less cleverness. Less trying. The best folk lyrics sound like they were always there — like they existed before the writer came along and just happened to find them. They do not try to impress. They do not try to be deep. They simply say what is true, in the fewest words possible.

This is harder than it sounds. We are trained to add. To elaborate. To explain. To make sure the listener understands. But the listener understands more than you think. They do not need your explanations. They need your silence as much as your words.

A song is not an argument. It does not need to prove anything. It needs to be something. A stone does not argue for its existence. It is simply heavy, and you know it when you pick it up. The best lyrics are like that — heavy without trying to be, true without arguing for their truth.

Begin here: whatever you think needs ten words, say it in five. Whatever you think needs five, say it in three. If you can say it in one, that one word is your lyric. The rest is melody and silence.

This is not minimalism as a style. It is minimalism as a practice of honesty. Every extra word is a place to hide. When you strip the words down, there is nowhere to hide. It is just you and the truth and the listener. That is terrifying. That is the point.