I went to go see Walk the Line with a friend the other night and it made me think about the Scott Stapp post I wrote recently. I'm always intrigued by the way lyrics affect people. They bring back old memories—some good, some bad. They give voice to fears. They challenge us. And once in a while, they embolden us. Especially when we believe that the lyrics are at least semi-autobiographical. We hear singers like Johnny Cash or Scott Stapp sing about pain, and heartache, and loss, and we automatically assume that they are singing about specific events from their own life, but that's not necessarily the case.
Lyrics can be ambiguous and not every song is about a specific instance in the artist's life, but rather, in some cases, the artist draws from the totality of life experience to write a song. A song that explores the heartache of lost love might be couched in a modern day love story with different names and different circumstances. A song that expresses anger might be directed towards some unknown entity rather than the actual person or event that caused the anger. And of course, many songs don't address any deep-seated emotions or desires—they are written just for the fun of it.
So why is it that we automatically assume that some songs are a chronicle of the artist's personal triumphs and struggles? I typically do it when I know that an artist has had to overcome a lot of problems. I tend to root for him or her, and maybe I read more into the lyrics than I should, but I'm looking for signs of hope. And when a song speaks directly to a situation that I'm currently going through, then I often assume that the artist must have lived through similar circumstances.
Right or wrong, that's the neat thing about music. It has the ability to speak to us right where we are—even when the lyrics might not be as autobiographical as we'd like to believe.
