I’ll be heading to the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity soon. To get myself ready to walk into the world’s most creative lion’s den, so to speak, I asked a few of my friends if they’d chat with me about the State of Creativity in 2011. Those friends said no, so I asked these people instead.
Next up: “Weird Al” Yankovic, three-time Grammy award winning artist whose 13th studio album, “Alpocalypse,” will be released June 21.
You had your first hit in 1982 and have no doubt seen it all in this business in the years since. Loaded question, I know, but what's the state of creativity in the music business in 2011?
Wow, starting with the easy ones, huh? Well, it’s tempting to be flip and say that the industry is creatively bankrupt at this point, but of course that’s not really accurate. Pop music has always been kind of ridiculous. It’s nothing new. Pop music is always changing, always morphing, but much of it seems to be variations on the same stale universal themes—albeit, in some cases, today we’re likely to hear much more graphic or provocative iterations of those themes.
I think a lot of the creativity in the music industry these days is coming from the marketing side—the industry as they knew it collapsed a decade ago, and they’ve been struggling to stay afloat. When your back is against the wall like that, you tend to get very creative very quickly.
Any kid can post a parody song or video on YouTube in a matter of minutes. I guess that's both good and bad. How has technology changed the way you approach what you do?
The Internet has been a double-edged sword for people in the music business. In this post-Napster world, a new generation has grown up thinking that all music is free for the taking, which doesn’t exactly help artists’ sales numbers. But at the same time, the Internet is an incredible promotional tool—with a little marketing skill, you can make millions of people aware of your wonderful new album that they’re most likely just going to download for free anyway.
A couple other Internet pet peeves: There are a lot of “funny” songs floating around the web with my name attached to them, even though—surprise—they’re not really by me. Honestly, it does my reputation no favors when people are tricked into thinking that some vulgar or mediocre song is part of my oeuvre. Also, there are tens of thousands of people on YouTube doing song parodies—that’s great for them, I suppose, but that means that I’ll never again be the only (and certainly not the first) person to parody any given hit song. But, I just put my blinders on and proceed boldly ahead, hoping people won’t notice that I’m the 20,000th person on the planet to do a Miley Cyrus parody.
On the plus side, digital distribution gives me the potential to be a lot more timely with my releases, which is a great feature if your material is topical, which mine often is. A couple years ago I was able to think of an idea for a parody, get permission, write it, record it, mix it and get it on iTunes in less than 2 weeks—while the original song (T.I.’s “Whatever You Like”) was still number one on the Billboard chart. In this digital age the public’s attention span seems to be decreasing exponentially, so being of-the-moment is becoming more critical all the time.
I also try to be active in social media, and I enjoy interacting with my fan base and friends on Twitter and Facebook. I think that’s been a great boost to my record and concert ticket sales, as well as a boon to the obsessive people who have chosen to stalk me.
Is your creative process different now than it was five, ten, or twenty years ago? How has technology impacted your creative process?
It’s always hard for me to describe my creative process, but I don’t really think it’s changed all that significantly in the last two or three decades. I just take a lot longer to do things, because I feel more self-imposed pressure with every album I put out. I suppose the main way that technology has impacted my process is as a research tool. Back in the ‘80s when I was writing “I Want a New Duck” and “Living With a Hernia,” I had to go to the West Hollywood branch of the Los Angeles public library and check out books on ducks and hernias… because even with my stupidest songs, I do research. Nowadays, of course, if I wanted a comprehensive list of every kind of hernia in the known universe, that information is just a few keystrokes away. Also, you’ll be happy to hear, I don’t have to wear out the binding in my old rhyming dictionary anymore.
When you're in writing mode... is there a routine? A habit? Do you listen to music, sit in a favorite chair? Is there something you do to get the creative juices flowing?
I tend to write—or at least do what I think is my best writing—in the middle of the night, when most rational people are asleep. Partly this is because there are very few distractions at that time (I’m very easily distracted). It’s also because coming up with ideas is a very internal process, and it’s very difficult to convince your family members that you’re actually hard at work when you’re just sitting somewhere staring off into space. I like having a generous amount of time to write something, but I also function pretty well with pressure and deadlines—I was able to write my recent Lady Gaga parody within a couple days while right in the middle of a fairly grueling Australian concert tour.
Capturing ideas. Surely you've perfected a system. Do you have any favorite apps or tricks you use that a writer or musician out there might find useful?
I don’t know how to actually make the ideas come—I wish I did. I just try to be ready when they do. For the longest time, I kept all my ideas in old-school 3-ring notebooks—with those little plastic dividers and everything. Nowadays, of course, my notebook is of the laptop variety. But the process is the same: I’m an idea pack rat. I keep lists of concepts, titles, random thoughts—anything that might inspire an actual song at some point. And once I’ve come up with an idea that I think merits being developed into a full composition, I will spend weeks (if I have that luxury) writing down every word, phrase and half-baked gag that I can think of, as long as it is somehow related to my chosen concept. Then when I feel I’ve exhausted the potential of my brain, I’ll go through that list and pick out what I think are the best ideas, and then try to come up with rhyming couplets for those ideas, which in turn causes me to come up with different—and sometimes better—ideas. So basically, what works for me is obsessive organization. That just happens to be how I write, not how I live my life.
One other trick that works for me is the unlikely juxtaposition of style and subject matter. I keep a list of musical genres and iconic artists, and another list of subjects that I think would be fun to write about… and then I’ll match up entries between the two columns in a way that seems amusing to me. That’s how I came to write one of the original songs on my new album. I decided I wanted to write a song in the style of The Doors, and I went down my subject list until I came to the word “Craigslist”— and it just struck me as funny to think of Jim Morrison singing about that. It was just so anachronistic… so wrong on so many levels.
It's easy to write an easy parody, I imagine. But you put so much thought and care into your ideas and word choices, resulting in pure brilliance. You dig beyond the obvious. But how do you know when to stop?
First of all I have to say, the obvious is sometimes okay. I have a knee-jerk reaction to doing obvious jokes, or doing something that everybody in the world is expecting me to do. For that reason I almost didn’t do my Lady Gaga parody because everybody thought I was going to do a Lady Gaga parody. But at the end of the day, it made perfect sense for me to do it, and I’m very happy with the way it turned out—even though it was pretty darn obvious and expected.
As a semi-obsessive artist, it is kind of hard to know when to stop. That’s why I actually kind of welcome deadlines—I enjoy having limits. Otherwise, you never really finish something – you just kind of abandon it. As an artist, you just have to have a sense of when you’re experiencing diminishing returns. At some point, I just can’t justify ignoring my family for another day so I can come up with a better rhyme for “Hasselhoff.”
I’m never afraid of running out of ideas—I always have plenty of them. The problem is, I have extremely few really good ideas, and those are the only ones that count.