How To Make The Whole World Sing: “Ashes Of American Flags”

Detail is a powerful tool in songwriting. When used correctly, it can be the perfect element to achieve inclusivity, to bring a listener into your song: witness the torn shoulder of the antagonist in Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat,” or perhaps the box that sits “to the left, to the left” in Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable.” Detail can also, when used incorrectly, drag your composition down and out of a listener’s scope of interest faster than you can say “sack of bricks.” There are far too many examples of this to mention (Weird Al’s “Like A Surgeon” comes to mind.)

So how much detail is just enough?

Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy is a master of parsimonious description. He rarely just comes out and says exactly what he means about anything, but his lyrics have a way of arousing our interest like a smile from a good-looking stranger across a room. Tweedy reels us in, line by line, creating a mood that is steeped in well-drawn visual detail shrouded in a little smoke. Check out the opening verse in “The Ashes Of American Flags” from 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot:

The cash machine is blue and green

For a hundred in twenties and a small service fee

I could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents

On Diet Coca-Cola and unlit cigarettes

I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a fuck

How hot and sorrowful, the machine begs for luck

In the first four lines we learn three details: the color of the ATM machine, what it’s doing (or possibly why it’s blue and green?) and how Tweedy might respond to the actions of the machine. Then something very important happens: Tweedy takes a moment to let us into a rather abstract inner thought, then connects the thought back to the banking device.

The fifth line in the stanza is the point at which just enough detail could have turned into too much. What if the line had been, say, the rest of Tweedy’s shopping list? Or perhaps a brief commentary on the consistency of the sidewalk? Would a tirade about the poisons in Diet Coke have worked nicely? Maybe, but let’s assume that Tweedy knew exactly what he was doing by giving us a brief respite from the minutiae by taking us into his head before delivering the kicker:

How hot and sorrowful, the machine begs for luck

I do not claim to know exactly what “Ashes Of American Flags” is about. But that is beside the point. The more important thing is that, right from the first verse, Tweedy has me really wanting it to be about something. Why? Because he has artfully utilized just the right amount of detail to infuse a boring, inanimate object with connectivity. Suddenly, the cash machine is him, or maybe all of us. And I want to know what’s it might do next.

This is called creating inclusivity. As songwriters, we want our listeners to have a personal experience with our songs. We want them to be emotionally, intellectually and spiritually invested in them. When writing, as in conversation, it is easy to become too self-involved and forget that someone else is listening. To communicate effectively, we have to remember to always include the listener in the process. Using just the right amount of detail makes it easier for them to make our songs their songs.