The Third Time Theory

Thoughts on pop music, Paul Simon, and the art of subtle change

I am a student of the pop song. Sounds pretty highbrow until you consider that the only qualification is lying in bed for hours as a teenager, listening to records while staring at the ceiling. My definition of pop music has nothing to do with mass popularity; it’s based entirely on content. If it has catchy hooks and melodies and a verse-chorus-verse structure, in my eyes, it’s a pop song. But isn’t pop short for popular, you might be thinking, and doesn’t that make pop music, by definition, music that is popular with—and sells to—the masses? Well, when you’re a student of pop music like me, you get to create your own definitions. It’s part of the deal.

My listening habits lean toward lesser-known artists. Take any super-famous current pop star, (Taylor Swift, for example) and experience tells me that if you’re motivated enough to look around, you can always find a more obscure artist who does more or less what they do, but better. And there are iconic songwriters—Dylan, Springsteen, the Beatles—that I idolize as much as anyone, but I have heard and dissected their work so exhaustively that my ears tend to want something fresh when it comes to casual listening. It’s a habit that has led to the discovery of new songwriting heroes, people you may not be familiar with, like Richard Buckner or Patty Griffin. But every now and then, I find that my quest for the new has caused me to disregard—to take for granted—a particular widely-admired artist’s contributions. Such is the case with Paul Simon.

For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed analyzing song structure. I like breaking down a song’s parts, observing how they are connected, and determining what is it about a particular turn of phrase or melody that makes a song special. Beyond the obvious importance of writing memorable lyrics and melodies, it turns out that the key element is surprise. The best songs establish melodic patterns, repeat them, and just when you expect to hear them repeated yet again, interrupt the pattern with a surprising element of change. These changes come in many forms: an altered vocal melody, a layer of harmony, a countermelody (second melody line), a rhythmic or key change, etc. Sometimes the changes are dramatic enough to sound like a series of little songs patched together, think the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” or Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” But I’m more interested in the power of smaller, subtle surprises, like the eerie line of guitar feedback added to the last verse of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” or the little minor chord shift that starts the third chorus of “There She Goes” by The La’s (arguably the catchiest pop song ever recorded).

Most songwriters have their strengths and weaknesses. Some rely heavily on extraordinary lyrics to get their songs across and are lighter on melody. Others are gifted at writing unforgettable melodies and have to work much harder to stretch beyond cliché in their lyrics. Paul Simon is equally brilliant at both, in addition to being a master of the subtle and surprising change.

I have never heard a musician explain the importance of surprising the listener as eloquently as he does in this clip:

Simon talks in the video about—having repeated a pattern twice in a song—the importance of changing it the third time around. My favorite illustration of this comes in the third verse of “Slip Slidin’ Away.” Instead of simply repeating the middle register, conversational vocal opening established in the first two verses (“I know a man…”, I know a woman…”), he grabs our attention by starting verse three on a new and higher note (i.e., “I know a father who had a son…”). After that first line, the verse resumes repetition of the original melody, but the slightly altered start carries enough weight to keep us hanging on every word that comes next. Here’s the track (verse three starts at around 2:08):

It’s also worth looking closely at those third verse lyrics:

I know a father who had a son

He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he’d done

He came a long way just to explain

He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping then he turned around and headed home again

It’s direct, relatable, and charged with emotion, like a pivotal scene in a dramatic movie. The song’s other verses possess a similar emotional resonance. Few artists have captured the basics of the human condition: love, loss, aspiration, regret, and even mortality in song as artfully as Paul Simon.

If you find yourself repeating a pattern, consider making a small change. It’s a wise approach to songwriting and to life. There’s a tendency, when life isn’t proceeding according to plan, to look for the panacea, the big answer that will quickly turn everything around, but it’s only when you prioritize making little adjustments, one day (or moment) at a time, that real transformation is possible. If the pattern you’re repeating is useful on the other hand, by all means carry on.

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P.S. - It’s fun to note that the changes I referred to in “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “There She Goes” both adhere to Paul Simon’s third time theory. The feedback in the Nirvana song opens the third verse, and the minor chord change in “There She Goes” kicks off the third chorus. If you’re an aspiring songwriter—or if you just enjoy listening as closely as I do—it’s an approach worth paying attention to.

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