Opening Lines
This is only the beginning. That's all it is.
I want to say that it’s…
You look like the perfect fit For a girl in need of a tourniquet “Save Me” —Aimee Mann
But if I’m being honest, it’s…
She was working at a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens Til her boyfriend kicked her out in one of those crushing scenes “The Nanny Named Fran” —Ann Hampton Calloway
What are the all-time greatest opening lines of all time? I want to say Aimee Mann’s because she’s cooler than all of us combined and therefore I might appear a little cooler than I actually am by claiming it… apparently I’m shallow like that. But also because they are fantastic. With an image that is as jarring as your imagination will allow. And a rhyme that she has now planted her flag in for all time. It’s so great that the only place she can go from there is directly to the chorus. Which she does. And by the time you’ve fully recovered, the song is over. So you want to, need to, listen again.
And the other is just setting up a dumb (not dumb, dummy… classic) sitcom in a forty-nine second song like all sitcom theme songs did back in the golden age of sitcom theme songs. So why, twenty-five years since the last time I’ve seen an episode of The Nanny do I still catch myself singing these lines to myself at least once a week? Why are those the lines I find myself subconsciously using as the yardstick against which I measure my own? The “jazzy” music and the “jazzy” way it was sung were, at best, mildly embarrassing to a pre-teen, pre-cool, pre-songwriter Jay. And the phrase “one of those crushing scenes” I mean who talks like that? Turns out Fran Fine, the eponymous Nanny talks like that. (Brilliant!) And to a Tennessee kid with limited knowledge of outer borough demographics, the exotic words “Flushing, Queens” somehow explained (however incorrectly) everything about who she was and where she came from.
But knowing now what I’ve learned from several decades of making songs, the real magic of this couplet turns on the “’til” because now we know everything about her ex that we’ll ever need to know and that is that he sucks. He was her boyfriend with whom she lived AND her boss at the bridal shop so when he “kicked her out” he made her single, unemployed and homeless all in one crushing scene. (I guess I talk like that now too?) Also, what did we just learn about Fran? Well, she clearly needs to learn to make better choices regarding her romantic relationships and workplace boundaries. Will she? (She will not.)
Sorry. I could go on like this through that whole song. But I won’t. Today.
Because based on the volume and enthusiasm of everyone singing on the bus for our seventh grade outdoor education trip, or to this day anywhere alcohol is served; the greatest opening lines of any song of all time ever without a doubt would be:
Little ditty 'bout Jack and Diane Two American kids growin’ up in the heartland “Jack and Diane” -John Mellencamp (née Cougar)
But they’re clearly terrible, right? First off, boo for announcing itself as a song to begin with. (Though points for setting the bar low with “ditty.”) And the acceptably imperfect but unremarkable rhyme of Diane/heartland. Nah. And we exit the first two lines knowing nothing but their names and the fact that they they are kids from the midwest and, redundantly, America. Nope. Pass. Next.
Based on succinctness and economy of language, the winner, hands down:
Georgia Georgia “Georgia On My Mind” —Lyrics by Stuart Gorrell, Music by Hoagy Carmichael
Impressive. But nobody likes a smartass, Stuart.
What about The Gambler? It would only barely be an exaggeration to suggest that every adult human on all seven continents knows:
On a warm summer's evening on a train bound for nowhere I met up with the gambler, we were both too tired to sleep “The Gambler” —Don Schlitz
But sorry Don. “Nowhere” ain’t a place. “Flushing, Queens” is. Therefore: Nanny trumps Gambler. (I was told that taking shocking stances on settled issues would ignite controversy and boost readership so there’s my swipe at that.)
But really, what’s wrong with employing something sturdy and reliable like, “Woke up this morning”? Sure it may be the songwriting equivalent of starting your novel with “It was a dark and stormy night” or your speech with “Webster’s defines X as…” but it’s been the jumping off point for any number of moderately excellent and extremely mediocre songs, including my favorite non-“Monster’s Holiday” Buck Owens song, “Hello Trouble” written by Orville Couch and Eddie McDuff. And, honestly, isn't there something inspiring about watching a song rise to greatness from such humble beginnings. I mean, this is AMERICA!
And hell. A flashy attention-getting first impression is often the best indicator that that is all the there that there is. (See: The Internet.)
So maybe this is my hot take: Beginnings are overrated. They really only matter at the start. We’re trained here in Nashville, as writers, singers, producers, a&r-ers, to listen to songs from the top down. But who in the real world listens to things from the beginning straight through to the end the first time much less the fiftieth much less maybe even ever. So maybe the question should be, when do we really get our actual chance to make a good first impression?
A while back, a few of my long-time Nashvillian friends and I developed a helpful approach to assessing new-to-town folks from either Los Angeles or Canada. And it’s this: NEVER trust your first impression. Because here’s the thing. All (ALL) people who show up from Los Angeles tend to lead with who they know and what they’ve done and what they’ve won and what and how much they already have going on… which is fine I guess but also always jarring, given the longstanding passive Nashville tradition of only bragging on your friends while relying on your friends to, in turn, brag on you. And people who show up from Canada always seem polite and generous and eager to listen to whatever you have to say as if you’re saying the exact thing that they never knew until now that they needed to know. But guess what. Some (some) Angelenos are delightful and eventually invaluable additions to our community. And some (a few… you probably know ‘em) people from Canada are the WORST. Just like the people from, I don’t know. Everywhere? So who am I to judge? Or at least judge immediately instead of eventually. Clearly I will definitely eventually judge.
So maybe that’s all I’ll ask. Judge eventually. When it comes to this newsletter. When it comes to the songs my friends and I will write today. When it comes to me even.
I’ll do the same for you.
After all. This is only the beginning. That’s all it is.
And I might be a perfect fit.
jay
P.S. Here’s your playlist of all the songs I referenced.
P.P.S. The actual all-time champion opening lines are:
Dum dum dum dum Dum dum dum dum "Symphony No. 5" Opus 67. Ludwig von Beethoven
Looks like some friends are adding their own suggested all-time best opening lines ever. I strongly encourage this behavior.
I know it’s called Song Friends, but I’m calling it Prairie Phone Companion. And if you ever have to step down as host, please choose your replacement very carefully.