As a songwriter growing up in the ‘90s, some of my biggest influences were bands like Radiohead, Silverchair, and other big bands at the time. Some of those bands had some pretty cryptic lyrics—take Ana’s Song by Silverchair ("Imagine pageant, In my head the flesh seems thicker") or Paranoid Android by Radiohead ("Kicking squealing Gucci little piggy").

Of course, context matters, and don’t get me wrong—I LOVE these songs. The lyrics are a huge part of what I love about them. But if I’m being honest, I never paid much attention to what they said. I was always more drawn to the music. To me, the lyrics were like ornaments on a rich sonic tapestry—their meaning didn’t have to matter.

Fast-forward to a few months ago, during one of my virtual Songfarm Songcircles, where aspiring and career-minded songwriters and musicians gather to share and critique each other's work. That night, the audience included a professor of music, a Song of the Year finalist, a songwriting coach, and a mix of folk, rock, and indie artists—some of the nicest, most talented bunch of musicians I could have asked for.

It was my turn to play, so I shared a new song I was excited about: Hidden Gold. Fresh off the press, I was proud of it—until I heard the feedback.

“What is the Hidden Gold? How does your first lyric resonate with that?”

Einen’s question hung in the air.

"No, I'm asking.. What is the Hidden Gold?"

I started to explain… but the truth was, I wasn’t ready to justify or explain my lyrics. And the more I tried to clarify, the more I realized that my first verse didn’t do a good enough job of setting things up. Einen—and the rest of the group—agreed: there was no foothold for the listener to understand what the Hidden Gold was supposed to represent.

That moment stuck with me for several days. I had always figured I could skate by with vague, impressionistic lyrics. But that night, I learned a lesson that changed the way I approach songwriting:

A great song doesn’t just sound good—it invites the listener in. Or as Rik Emmett put it to me recently:

"A song has to ‘feel’ like it’s telling the truth. The writer’s truth - but even more important - the song’s truth. When a writer starts following their instincts, that’s not a bad thing. But if their ego (and a laziness) gets in the way of the detective work it takes to keep digging down to the development of the SONG’s truth —- then there’s been an abdication of the responsibility that a songwriter has to any and every future listener."

Sure, cryptic or abstract lyrics can be powerful, but if the audience has nothing to hold onto, they’ll feel lost. And, if I’m being completely honest, I hadn’t worked as hard on those lyrics as I could have. Thanks to that group of songwriters and Einen, I was kindly confronted on it.

So what did I do?

I went back and thought long and hard about what I was trying to say. The Hidden Gold is my follow up single (I just released my first single a few weeks ago!), so I’ve been reviewing and reworking the lyrics—especially the first verse. That feedback helped me see that I needed to dig deeper, to make sure every line adds up and earns its place in the song.

That’s the power of a great songwriting community—one that pushes you, challenges you, and helps you uncover your own hidden gold.

You might get there alone but you'll get there a hell of a lot faster if you've got good people in your circle.

📺 Want to see how it all unfolded? Watch my performance of 'Hidden Gold' and the feedback session on my YouTube channel: 👉 Songfarm Songcircle – Jan 5th, 2024.