Are song lyrics literature?

Dylan is a mediocre to shit poet but an incredible singer-songwriter. This is my whole point. You evaluate songwriters on a literary plane most of them are going to fall short. You recognize them as working within their own form, which is partly a populist, "low art" folk medium and things change completely.

Who would you consider to be the best lyricist?

We're the epics originally set to music?

In an uncomfortable and shrill way

Sure but we don't fucking know or take into account the melody some old man sang 2000 years ago when we discuss Homer's literary value. This is the worst fucking argument the people who claim music is literature like to parrot.

Leonard Cohen

>I'm a sick fuck, I'm inappropriate
>I like hearin' stories, I like that ho shit
>I wanna hear mo' shit, I like the ho shit
>Send me some mo' shit, you triflin' ho bitch (bitch, bitch, bitch)
Anyone who says this isn't pure art is a philistine.

I was trying to be diplomatic. I like everything about her music except the way she sings most of the time. The song Baby Birch is a good example of her being sort of normal.

>In time the hissing of her sanity
>Faded out her voice and soiled her name
>And like marked pages in a diary
>Everything seemed clean that is unstained
>The incoherent talk of ordinary days
>Why would we really need to live?
>Decide what is clear and what's within a haze
>What you should take and what to give

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Imagine believing this.

>JewYork nasal twang
>good singer
JUST

Leave it be
It was meant for me
Soul sacrifice
Forgot the advice
>Lost track of time
>In a flurry of smoke
>Waiting anxiety
>A fair judgement deserved

Radiohead

read classic english poetry

Only poetry written from the early 17th century to mid 20th century is literature.

Yes.
youtu.be/wuDx6_PLIVk
youtu.be/PIPy4PrRoik
Why
Because
Man
Will
Always
Be
Man

youtu.be/mFSjpUF_8dw
youtu.be/dUKfbgp4p-4
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man

He went to art school when he was younger
He wanted to be a painter
Hitler was a vegetarian
He was also a non smoker

Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man

He hired gay and handicapped officers
He was concerned about overpopulation
If Hitler was alive today, he'd listened to The Cure
The Smiths and Depeche Mode

Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man
Hitler was a sensitive man

Have you even heard Joanna's work you uncultured pig?

You can take the entire melody from her best songs and it'll still be beauty laid on paper.

Unironically Lana Del Rey is the best lyricist of our generation.

I was reading Slim Aarons and I got to thinking that I thought
Maybe I'd get less stressed if I was tested less like
All of these debutantes
Smiling for miles in pink dresses and high heels on white yachts
But I'm not, baby, I'm not
No, I'm not, that, I'm not

I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7 Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on the walls
'Cause the ink in my pen don't work in my notepad
Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not
But at best, I can say I'm not sad
'Cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

I had fifteen-year dances
Church basement romances, yeah, I've cried
Spilling my guts with the Bowery Bums
Is the only love I've ever known
Except for the stage, which I also call home, when I'm not
Servin' up God in a burnt coffee pot for the triad
Hello, it's the most famous woman you know on the iPad
Calling from beyond the grave, I just wanna say, "Hi, Dad"

I've been tearing up town in my fucking white gown
Like a goddamn near sociopath
Shaking my ass is the only thing that's
Got this black narcissist off my back
She couldn't care less, and I never cared more
So there's no more to say about that
Except hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman with my past

There's a new revolution, a loud evolution that I saw
Born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly I've known
A modern day woman with a weak constitution, 'cause I've got
Monsters still under my bed that I could never fight off
A gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off

I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7 Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on your walls
'Cause the ink in my pen don't look good in my pad
They write that I'm happy, they know that I'm not
But at best, you can see I'm not sad
But hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
But I have it
Yeah, I have it
Yeah, I have it
I have

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Only UncleTedcore matters.
youtu.be/RaQ-sdtdUcI
In the United States alone
An animal is killed
Every six seconds
In the name of scientific experimentation
A holocaust the likes of man has never known before
Is taking place right before our very eyes
It's up to you and I to put a stop to it
It's up to you and I to make a change
It's up to you and I to ... Liberate!
Vivisection --- It's scientific fraud
Exploitation --- gone on too long
Unjustified murder --- It's systematic slaughter
Liberation --- a means to an end

youtu.be/bYa9bYBeJFs
This song/Tells a price/Archetypical/The fate of the bastard/
It's not nice to fuck with mother nature/Enslaving and abusing every creature/
Taken from their habitat for our pleasure/Roman legacy/Savagery/End it now
Typical circus Tyke the Elephant/Beaten daily to condition her/One day as the trainer struck her/
She freaked out and took revenge!!!!!!!!
Here for our amusement/A performance of just desserts/Reeking of ultimate irony/
An elephant never forgets
Entertainment by subjection/Performing to the tune of Adam's dominion/Sorrow in her every step/
The payment for her misery's come
Liberty's got a score to settle/Massive Tyke has broken out/Grabbed her trainer/Dragged him down/
Crushed him lifeless on the ground
If you would prey on innocence/You have fallen prey/If you have preyed on innocence/You will fall prey
Liberty's got a score to settle/Massive tyke has broken out/Grabbed her trainer/Dragged him down/
Crushed him lifeless on the ground
No understanding of habitat and their place/No clue as to your mother's perfecton/
The severity of her lessons that's coming for us all
cannot tame chaotic nature/cannot quell the natural order/Sanctity a mystery/
Liberty rings with the snap of a back
This is the dignity of life you're fucking with
THE VAIN ARE SOON SURPRISED
Free at last!!!!!!
It will always be so
Free at last
Free at last

dont lanapost on lit she depresses me

This woman has the voice of a fatally wounded giraffe who's giving birth to a calf while bleeding to death.

Pleb filter'd

youtu.be/_UWlLqvqdvU
Kill yourself
Kill me first
America
You fucked up
Not your problem
Just sit back
Favourite show is on
Ooooooooooon!
Not your problem
Just relax
As life passes you by

Why don't you just go kill yourself?

This is not your country
Who gave it to you?
This is not your country
I have rights too.

youtu.be/fqV9ogeJE3w
If I was a turkey, with my priorities straight,
I'd peck out his eyes and shred up his face,
he wouldn't turn me into a crispy crumb steaks,
mixed up with sawdust and shit from my crate.

But I'm not a turkey and you make me sick,

I might only speak softly, but I carry a big stick,
and a can full of petrol to set you alight,
a 12stone Bernie-Burger, that bootiful alright!

I wrote you a letter, but you didn't reply,
was that cos, I asked you to fuck off and die?

youtu.be/zNtQ5AnRlz8
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it's how are you kid and what's your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes

>You evaluate songwriters on a literary plane most of them are going to fall short. You recognize them as working within their own form, which is partly a populist, "low art" folk medium and things change completely.
This is a good way to look at it. It’s a fool’s errand to argue if Dylan is better than Keats because Keats didn’t have a harmonica and guitar.

To add to your point, it’s also dangerous to actual verse and prose to try to ‘raise’ certain things into a realm which they were never intended to inhabit because you push out more complex art works for simplicity’s sake. I don’t know if you would agree, but literature to me is equated with a certain elevated level of mental activity.

I can recite most of Ys by memory. I had her specifically in mind when I was talking about the value in contemporary songwriting. And of course she has a wonderful control of language, but again it is still operating on an entirely different level from poetry. When I hear Only Skin, I cannot divorce the melody or her vocal cadence from my mind when reading the words. And even if I were somehow successful at that, it would leave me with something that seems like a pastiche of decadent romantic era verse. Her lyrics absolutely would fall short and seem overly verbose and saccharine as a 21st century piece of poetry. As a piece of 21st century popular songwriting it is absolutely remarkable and unparraled. And that's not even getting into the actual performative qualities of the song.

I do not make this distinction to degrade songwriting or poetry. I just sincerely think that while they may be related in many ways, they ultimately are distinct forms and I just wish more people would view them that way.

>That's my word, get up in they face
>Talk your shit, let your nuts drag, nigga
>These niggas just runnin' out they fuckin' mouth, man
>Follow protocol, Blood, get in they fuckin' chest, nigga
>(Scum Gang!)
>We the fuckin' M.O.B., nigga
>These niggas bleed different
>We don't bleed, nigga
>We make niggas bleed, Blood
>TR3YWAY
>These niggas say they heard of me, I ain't heard of you
>Get the fuck up out my fuckin' face, 'fore I murder you
>Bitch niggas always jackin' Blood, but I know they fu
>Whole squad full of fuckin' killers, I'm a killer too
>Sending shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, nigga
>Everybody gettin' pop, pop, popped, nigga
>The thing go "rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, rrrah," nigga
>We send shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, nigga
Absolutely

This is the correct answer. Lyrics and poems are fundamentally different entities.

based.

Cringe

There's bad art and good art. Art isn't an elevated part of the hierarchy.

>Dante's poetry isn't literature because I say so

Will Toledo is the only literary musician

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>I can recite most of Ys by memory
Based

i want to eat his asshole