[Intro] [spoken Grand] Allow me to present a small tutorial For every brave melodial memorialist Who skipped the codified The quite tutorial Yet longs to be a chart-devouring chorist [Verse 1 – patter Tom Lehrer style] I lack the formal training I confess it with celerity My grasp of "do re mi" is one of laughable hilarity I cannot sight-read anything except perhaps ingredients On breakfast cereal Which hardly qualifies as expedient My solfeggio's confined to humming something approximate I label notes as "this one" or "the higher one" or "stop a bit" Yet somehow when I warble and I warble with sincerity I generate a hook of quite alarming popularity [Chorus – big Broadway] I don’t know the name of the note I’m singing But the crowd still claps on the backbeat Grinning If the tune feels tight and the rhyme hits right You can fake that scale and still ignite the night [Verse 2 – patter with internal rhymes] I start with primitive Diminutive vocal experimentation A syllabic babble building accidental orchestration I mumble "da-da-DAH" and then I loop it with machinery And suddenly I’m layering like twelve-piece live greenery The trumpet shouts the "DAH" The strings sustain the lower "doo" The choir hits the "ahh" that I recorded in my living room My method’s basically acoustical stenography Transcribing every grunt into a glossy discography [Chorus] [Verse 3 – hip-hop section] [low vocal register Laid-back groove] I ain’t got degrees Got a cheap USB Hit record on the beat Hum a line off-key Then I chop Then I flip Quantize Refine Turn a shower-thought hum to a platinum line I go "mm-mm-HEY" That’s the hook Press play Pitch it up Stack thirds Let the hi-hats spray If the rhythm’s infectious Nobody inspects Your curriculum vitae in harmonic contexts [Pre-Chorus – rhythmic talk-sung] So if you’re slow on the staff but you’re fast with the feel You can scaffold a castle from a half-spoken squeal [Chorus – with call-and-response] I don’t know the name of the note I’m singing (But it slaps, it slaps, it slaps) When the beat drops out and the hook keeps ringing (They come back, they clap, collapse) If the groove holds tight and the phrasing bites You can miss that class and still ignite the night [Verse 4 – pop romántico] [soft Breathy] Mi voz se pierde en tu respiración Tarareo líneas sin catalogación Te canto "mmmm" cerquita del oído Sin teoría Pero bien contigo Tus manos marcan mi sincopación Tu risa afina cada variación Si suena dulce Si te hace vibrar ¿Para qué etiquetas que lo puedan arruinar? [Chorus – half Spanish Big lift] No sé el nombre de la nota que canto Pero ves mi corazón en el encanto If it feels like love when the chords all rise Let the scales stay locked in their dusty guides [Verse 5 – Southern gothic / Christian blend] [drawling Church organ and banjo] I wrote a hymn out on the back porch swing Just a three-note line on a rusted string Didn’t know the intervals Didn’t know the key But the choir said "Child That’s a prophecy" The deacon stomped time on a creakin’ floor The sopranos found thirds I’d never heard before I just hummed me a ghost through the blackened pines And the Lord turned it straight into sacred lines [Bridge – mock-reverent] So raise your hands for the uncredentialed For the self-taught saints of
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