Context is Everything: "Never Enough" from The Greatest Showman

As Blackadder once explained to Baldrick when he was presented with a particularly tiddly and undernourished Christmas tree: "Well, it 'ain't what you got, it's where you stick it!"

And so it is with songs in a musical. 

To demonstrate the point, let's take a look at The Greatest Showman. Now I only caught up with this film musical a few weeks ago and, to be honest, I have no idea what to make of it, other than the vague thought that, should I ever watch it again, it'll probably be with a stiff drink to hand.

The songs, however, require a bit of sober reflection.

For what it's worth (clue: very little), my own feeling is that the songs, although beautifully written, don't always work in the context of the film. And, to be honest, I can't put it any better than Stagey Rebecca does in her excellent review:

"My problem was that every damn one of them songs was trying to be The Showstopping Number of the film. I was like 'THIS is the one I'll remember' then ten minutes later 'no THIS is the one''. It's as if they were all trying to outdo each other that in the end, I couldn't hum a single one while exiting the cinema."

I think there's a lot of wisdom in this. Although, I suspect that it may be the bombastic arrangements and super-charged studio production that gives every song that feeling of being The Showstopping Number rather than the songs themselves. But the point remains: if every number feels like a showstopper, then the show is going to be a bit, well, stop-start. And, that way, none of the songs really land. 

However, I'd say there's one exception.

"Never Enough" is a showstopper in the sense that it is a big, belt-y ballad requiring a more-than-healthy pair of lungs. But it's not an obviously theatrical song in the sense that it doesn't have much intrinsic dramatic interest. Nothing in the song itself suggests a specific character or situation. Really, it's more of a pop ballad. 

Musicals, however, are extraordinary things where even an apparently non-dramatic song can serve a dramatic purpose, if you just stick it in the right place. In the film, the song is sung by the character of Jenny Lind, a Swedish opera singer who has is being hyped by the legendary impresario PT Barnum. So, we have the world's greatest showman proclaiming the world's greatest opera singer in her American debut performance. A bit of a showstopper feels apt.

Moreover, at this point there are a few other things going on. Jenny Lind is trying to win fame in America, whilst Barnum is trying to win over respectable society with his new operatic signing. Only, it's becoming clear that his infatuation with her is going beyond a mere business transaction and that is also becoming clear to Barnum's wife, Charity. 

So, we have a bit of drama built around the song. But what is the song itself adding to the moment?

 Well, this is really clever bit. You see, it should be a song of triumph. It should be the moment when a star is born. It should be the moment when the low-born Barnum is finally accepted by high society.

Instead, we get a song of deep despair:

"All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we could steal from the night sky

Will never be enough, never be enough"

I love the way the rhythm and rhyme breaks down on that second line. If you wanted to follow the pattern of the first line more strictly, you would need something like:

"All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the cars we could steal on hot nights" 

(And yes, that's why I'm not an Oscar-winning lyricist.)

The point is that the pattern is deliberately broken. "Steal from the" has one too many syllables and "spotlights" doesn't rhyme with "night sky". But the effect, I think, is that we hear the despair. We're literally listening to a mini breakdown in song form.

Then the next lines:

"Towers of gold are still too little

These hand could hold the world and it'll

Never be enough, never be enough for me"

I love that sudden switch in perspective from vast images of plenty - spotlights, night skies, towers of gold - to the singer's hands. And, if ever there was a line written to convey melodramatic despair, then it surely is: "These hands could hold the world and it'll/Never be enough...".

Turns out that despair isn't failing to get what you want. True despair is getting everything that you want - money, fame, reputation - and not being satisfied with it; living in the terrible knowledge that nothing can fill the aching void and your inner spirit will forever be left a cold and empty husk.

(If only there were an Oscar for melodrama, I'd be a shoe-in.)

So, what the songwriters are doing are using the conventions of a pop song - the pure emotion, the broadbrush lyrics, the repetitive chorus - and putting them to good dramatic use; undercutting a moment of triumph with the realisation of a terrible despair. To me, this song feels like the one showstopper in the film that doesn't actually stop the show. Instead, it enlarges the drama going on around it. It's the right song for the right moment.

They have stuck it well.

Context is everything.

Why Oh Why Oh Why, Ed Sheeran?

Never thought I'd say it but I'm beginning to feel a bit sorry for this multi-millionaire songwriter:

"Sheeran has serenaded London's High Court in an attempt to prove he did not copy portions of his 2017 hit Shape of You from another artist."

Taking every opportunity to increase his audience demographic, I see. 

The star is accused of lifting his song's "Oh I, oh I, oh I" hook from Sami Chokri's 2015 single Oh Why.

Asked whether his final melody bore a similarity to Chokri's song, he added: "Fundamentally, yes. They are based around the minor pentatonic scale [and] they both have vowels in them."

Love the sarcasm. Not sure if the judge will appreciate it.

The singer was also accused of being an "obsessive music squirrel"

Nuts to that. That's just rude.

Sheeran was repeatedly asked who had come up with the "oh I" phrase, but explained it had been a collaborative effort with his co-writers Steve Mac and Johnny McDaid.

"It was all of us three bouncing back and forth in a circle," he said. "That was how it originated."

"Three people could not create the germ of the melody," suggested Mr Sutcliffe [QC representing Mr. Chokri].

"Why can't three people create a melody?" Sheeran replied.

Good reply. I can easily imagine three people creating a melody. I'm not sure why you'd need three people but I can easily imagine it.

"Your approach is take it, change it and make lots of money, isn't it?" Mr Sutcliffe asked the star.

That's called the artistic process. Except for the money part, obviously.

"No," he replied, later adding that a "musicologist went over the song [Shape of You] and found similarities and we changed the similarities".

That's interesting. Do record companies regularly employ musicologists to check for copyright?

What I find curious about these cases is that, when it comes down to it, they are basically having a philosophical argument about what a song is.

It's a bit like golf.

I remember reading about a legal case in America concerning a professional golfer who had some kind of ailment which made it difficult for him to walk between the holes. So he wanted to be transported on a golf cart. However, some of the other players complained that this would be unfair and it eventually wound up in court. In order to reach its conclusion, the court had to decide whether walking between the holes is an essential part of golf. Basically, they had to decide what golf actually is.

I think the High Court is doing the same here. It boils down to definitions. My understanding is that a song is legally defined as the combination of a particular melody and a particular lyric (which seems a bit harsh on the rhythm and the harmony but there we go). 

And what's disputed in this case is basically a two-bar, eight-note melodic phrase, lasting around three seconds. In one song, the lyric goes "why oh why oh why oh why" and, in the other song, the lyric goes "I oh I oh I oh I". On the surface, it's an absurd argument. How could such a fleeting phrase be considered the essence of a song? On the other hand, that fleeting phrase is very hooky. In both songs, it gets repeated and sticks in your mind. It's not such a stretch to argue that, without those two bars, each song would be very different.

Now, I don't know the ins and outs of this case and have no idea which way the verdict will go. But it's a good reminder that songs are built (and, apparently, litigated) on the tiniest of details. Song is a form where a mere handful of notes and vowel sounds can, and often do, make all the difference.

God is in the detail, as someone once said.

Send in the lawyers.