Song Club #52: Softness

One of music's most beautiful multitools

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Softness in music is a beautiful multitool. When you play with softness in a song you might be playing with how loud or quiet it is, or the quality of its various textures, or its mood and emotion.

Some music comes from a wholly soft place: quiet, feathery and achingly vulnerable. Think Sufjan Stevens ‘Fourth of July’ or Hand Habits ‘Flower Glass’.

Others use softness as contrast. mǔm’s ‘Asleep On A Train’ is an intricate journey of small soft sounds—tiny plinks, pillowy bells—set against small hard sounds like compact metallic thwacks and clanks. Björk’s ‘It’s Oh So Quiet’ places soft, tip-toed verses between loud, exuberant choruses.

A singer-songwriter I know once told me if an audience is particularly loud, she will start to sing very very softly as a means of focussing their attention. It almost always worked, she said.

In all these senses, softness is incredibly powerful. It is a gentle force that pulls you in, pulls you towards. Softness creates a tender space for sharing truth. It sets a stage for quiet revelations. It cushions brittle honesty or painful yearning.

There are so many ways into music writing via softness. This week I’m sharing a diverse few.

Me whispering some encouragement,
Lucy


‘Entry Points’