Usually I don’t take this long to finish a draft of a song, but writing “The Deep End of Summer” publicly has complicated the process somewhat. Sorry if you’ve been waiting for the next installment—I needed to step back and see the big picture.

If you’re looking for Part 1 of this series, you can click here to be magically transported to the beginning. Otherwise, read on.

Enthralling narrative alert

Songwriting is a weird art. Please allow me this illustrative story to explain why.

Tozier wakes up in the morning, stretches, scratches at his unseemly body hair, and sits on the edge of the bed with one sock on his foot, a folded t-shirt in his hand, and both eyes closed. After twenty minutes of slow, rhythmic breathing, he drools on his left knee and suddenly reanimates.

He walks to the sink, where he definitely does not waste half a can of Barbasol by using the foam to make a giant Santa beard… remember, this is an alternate universe where he has somehow emotionally matured past the age of eight [please continue to suspend your disbelief].

Having accomplished a smooth jawline with only a reasonable amount of bleeding and crying, Tozier embarks upon the day’s errands. He smiles at everyone he sees as he squeezes avocados, lovingly inspects every egg in a paper carton, and buys two beverages: Lady Grey tea, because he is a sensitive poet; and coffee, without cream or sugar, because he is a total badass.

Coyly unaware that his grocery basket’s contents now identify him as the ideal blend of manly roughness and caring tenderness, Tozier sashays to the front of the store where he checks out, walks home, cooks a late lunch, and rehearses carefully for that evening’s gig.

At exactly 8:30pm he hits the stage. The audience is hushed, perhaps intimidated by his awesome punctuality.

Slowly, quietly, Tozier makes his guitar moan erogenous melodies that make everyone feel kind of embarrassed because the music is so good that it’s almost like they’re all watching an erotic film together and what do you do with your eyes in that kind of situation lol so awkward.

At 8:32pm Tozier is arrested. How rude!

It turns out he forgot to put on any pants that morning, never rinsed off the Santa beard, and rhymed “loose” with “vamoose” in one of his songs, and that’s so embarrassing, you guys.

Songwriting is a weird art. Sometimes everything seems great, the lines and rhymes fall right into place; you think the song is perfect—but then another songwriter points out that you left the house without pants on.

Spoiler alert

I left the house without pants on.

In part 3 last time, yes, okay, I rhymed “loose” with “vamoose”, among other internationally-resonant party fouls. In my defense: I kind of knew it was a bad idea at the time.

Songwriting Gear: Feedback

It’s always tempting to be defensive of your own work, but honest feedback will redeem you when you have sinned. Here’s what fellow songwriters had to say about the draft I presented in part 3:

UK songwriter Matt Blick:

“Vamoose? No!”

And my fellow countryman Jeff Shattuck said several helpful things, including:

“…you repeat ‘bed’ in your chorus and I gotta believe you don’t need to. That’s an easy word to rhyme, plus, the way it reads, you’re putting the sand back on the bed”

Oops. That’s right. I just got spanked by English grammar, you guys.

Given this feedback, I’ve got several choices: I could react with righteous indignation and say “You’ll get my ‘vamoose’ when you pry it from my cold dead fingers dammit”. Then go home and cry.

Second, I could maintain outward composure while rationalizing my use of vamoose and explaining why it is integral to my artistic vision.

Or—I’m still deciding—I could just man up and admit that my colleagues are each correct on several points, and the song needs work.

Hmm…

Okay, the song needs work.

In all seriousness, there was never any contest here. I always try to choose what’s best for the song.

Anyway, I set aside a few hours to write another draft of the lyric, taking the very helpful feedback of my colleagues into account, and here’s what I ended up with:

The Deep End of Summer

words and music by Nicholas Tozier

Verse 1
I’m taking myself apart
in the changing room by the lake
folding my glasses, balling my socks
hanging my belt on a nail
I pull off my shirt
And shake off my jeans
I step out of my wallet
and photo I.D.

I swing the door open,
Step down on hot sand
And there’s my friend Janey
unpacking the basket
bikini tied off with a little black bow
at the cup of each hipbone,
She puts on her shades as she
Shakes out the blanket

Chorus
How’d we drift here to the deep end of summer?
August is fading; it’s almost all over
September is coming; will we still be friends
When I fold up the blanket, put it back on the bed?

Bridge
The sunlight. Her skin. Cold white wine
The backs of my fingers against her thigh
And we’ve been friends for years, but today
Going back is the last thing on our minds

(Repeat Chorus)

Verse 3
Late afternoon, clouds cool the sand
Branches sway, leaves hiss; a sudden wind
Tugs at Janey’s hair. We hurry to pack the trunk
and rinse our legs as the sunlight dims
With the radio low, we drive up the dirt road–
Damp hair and goosebumps and all, here we are
Rain dots the windshield; we roll toward the highway
with sand from the beach on the floor of the car

Chorus
How’d we drift here to the deep end of summer?
August is fading; it’s almost all over
September is coming; will we still be friends
When I fold up the blanket, put it back on the bed?

Feedback welcome

If you can spot any chances for improvement in this lyric, I’d love to hear them. Reader comments and e-mails have already been terrific—thank you very much for your critiques so far.

Music soon!

After any feedback comes in, I’ll be setting this lyric to music and recording a demo. I’m still excited about this song, but I must confess that I’ll be relieved when it’s recorded—this is a very wordy lyric, and this has been one of those songs that seems to fight me at every turn.

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