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    Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story behind the Song: The Exclusive Personal Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Songs
    Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story behind the Song: The Exclusive Personal Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Songs
    Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story behind the Song: The Exclusive Personal Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Songs
    Ebook456 pages5 hours

    Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story behind the Song: The Exclusive Personal Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Songs

    By Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Jo-Ann Geffen and Lamont Dozier

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    About this ebook

    You will get an inside look at the personal stories behind your favorite songs as songwriters get up close and personal with exclusive stories about how and why they wrote them.

    Songs tell a story, and now popular singers and songwriters are sharing more of the story! These artists reveal the inspiration, influence, and background, and when and why they wrote their most famous songs, in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story Behind the Song. Includes great photos of the songwriters. The print edition contains the lyrics to all 101 songs, and the eBook includes lyrics to 85 of the songs.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChicken Soup for the Soul
    Release dateJan 7, 2014
    ISBN9781611591439
    Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Story behind the Song: The Exclusive Personal Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Songs
    Author

    Jack Canfield

    Jack Canfield has sold more than 80 million books worldwide under the Chicken Soup for the Soul brand. He holds the Guinness Book World Record for having seven books simultaneously on the New York Times bestseller list.

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      Chicken Soup for the Soul - Jack Canfield

      Christina Aguilera

      Fighter

      Written by Christina Aguilera and Scott Storch

      Recorded by Christina Aguilera

      I wrote this for my sophomore album, Stripped, and I was very determined for it to reflect who I was. The first record was what the label wanted and created. There was a huge pop explosion at the time and I was part of that wave. I felt stifled. I was thankful that the early success allowed me the freedom to write what I wanted for the next one.

      I was 21 and I had a lot on my mind. I had been performing in front of an audience since I was 6, helping to make a living for my family. I grew up in a very chaotic and abusive home where I didn’t feel very safe. I started writing music, both melodies and lyrics, when I was 15. In retrospect, I realize I used it as a release, a therapeutic outlet. It was the way I found my voice. I connected with the music and escaped from my home life. In school, I was picked on and alienated because of my passion for music. So I harbored a little personal pain but the seemingly negative things made me smarter and stronger. I took notice early of the people all around me in the business who were there for the wrong reasons.

      I wrote Fighter when I was on tour promoting my first CD. I was coming up with titles and ideas and deciding what I wanted to write about. I had to sit down and make sense of my feelings and experiences. I learned a lot from the first record that helped me to develop. I took the good and the bad and considered some of the choices I made and became better because of it.

      I called the CD Stripped because I wanted to strip away the pieces of myself from the first record that I felt weren’t me. I was searching for truth. We can all look at our pasts, childhoods, home lives and it’s easy to be a victim or victimize yourself — but I didn’t want to do that. I was feeling lots of pent up emotions and they all came to a head in Fighter.

      I wanted my songs to have positive empowering messages, especially to women so they could feel strong and speak for themselves. My father dominated our household and I didn’t want to feel weak.

      Makes me that much stronger

      Makes me work a little bit harder

      Makes me that much wiser

      So thanks for making me a fighter

      Made me learn a little bit faster

      Made my skin a little bit thicker

      Makes me that much smarter

      So thanks for making me a fighter

      Sometimes people try to put their negativity on you. I was telling one person in particular, at that time, that he couldn’t haunt me.

      After all of the fights and the lies

      Guess you’re wanting to haunt me

      But that won’t work anymore.

      It was very freeing.

      I try to write lyrics and music that people can relate to and that help them to find personal strength. I try to communicate universal ideas and thoughts that help them to get through the day or the year a bit better.

      Fighter

      After all you put me through

      You’d think I’d despise you

      But in the end I wanna thank you

      ’Cause you made me that much stronger.

      Well I thought I knew you

      Thinking that you were true

      Guess I, I couldn’t trust,

      Called your bluff, time is up,

      ’Cause I’ve had enough.

      You were there by my side,

      Always down for the ride

      But your joy ride just came down in flames

      ’Cause your greed sold me out in shame, mm hmm.

      After all of the stealing and cheating

      You probably think that I hold resentment for you

      But uh uh, oh no, you’re wrong

      ’Cause if it wasn’t for all that you tried to do

      I wouldn’t know just how capable

      I am to pull through.

      So I wanna say thank you

      ’Cause it

      Makes me that much stronger

      Makes me work a little bit harder

      Makes me that much wiser,

      So thanks for making me a fighter;

      Made me learn a little bit faster

      Made my skin a little bit thicker

      Makes me that much smarter

      So thanks for making me a fighter.

      Never saw it coming,

      All of your backstabbing

      Just so you could cash in on a good thing

      Before I’d realized your game.

      I heard you’re going ’round

      Playin’ the victim now

      But don’t even begin feelin’ I’m the one to blame

      ’Cause you dug your own grave.

      After all of the fights and the lies

      Guess you’re wanting to haunt me

      But that won’t work anymore,

      No more, uh uh, it’s over.

      ’Cause if it wasn’t for all of your torture

      I wouldn’t know how to be this way now

      And never back down.

      So I wanna say thank you

      ’Cause it

      Makes me that much stronger

      Makes me work a little bit harder

      Makes me that much wiser

      So thanks for making me a fighter;

      Made me learn a little bit faster

      Made my skin a little bit thicker

      Makes me that much smarter

      So thanks for making me a fighter.

      How could this man I thought I knew

      Turn out to be so unjust, so cruel?

      Could only see the good in you

      Pretended not to see the truth

      You tried to hide your lies,

      Disguise yourself through

      Living in denial

      But in the end you’ll see

      You won’t stop me.

      I am a fighter

      (I’m a fighter)

      I ain’t gonna stop

      (I ain’t gonna stop)

      There is no turning back,

      I’ve had enough.

      Makes me that much stronger

      Makes me work a little bit harder

      Makes me that much wiser

      So thanks for making me a fighter;

      Made me learn a little bit faster

      Made my skin a little bit thicker

      Makes me that much smarter

      So thanks for making me a fighter.

      Thought I would forget

      But I, I remember

      Yes I remember

      I’ll remember

      Thought I would forget

      But I remember

      Yes I remember

      I’ll remember

      Makes me that much stronger

      Makes me work a little bit harder

      Makes me that much wiser

      So thanks for making me a fighter;

      Made me learn a little bit faster

      Made my skin a little bit thicker

      Makes me that much smarter

      So thanks for making me a fighter.

      Lyrics by Christina Aguilera. Music by Christina Aguilera and Scott Storch. © 2002 XTINA MUSIC; CAREERS-BMG MUSIC PUBLISHING INC; TVT MUSIC INC.

      Art Alexakis

      Father of Mine

      Written by Art Alexakis

      Recorded by Everclear

      A good lyric, a good story, and a good melody make a good song. The production is the gravy. This song is universal as it has no social or economic boundaries.

      Father of Mine is autobiographical. It’s about my father splitting from our family and divorce from a kid’s point of view. I wrote it after being divorced from the mother of my kid and expressed the disillusionment everyone feels.

      I was born in Santa Monica, California in 1962, the youngest of five children in a very dysfunctional family. There was constant fighting. My father was physically abusive to the point where there were fist fights amongst the family. Clearly, he was not a good father or husband. It was a very emotional time. When I was six, my mom left my dad.

      Women had no rights then so, although my mom owned a couple of houses, without my dad signing them over — which he wouldn’t do, she couldn’t get a loan and the houses went into foreclosure. She wanted the five of us to grow up in our house. We ultimately moved to a housing project in Culver City in Los Angeles even though she worked two jobs to support us. We never missed a meal and always had clean clothes, a place to live and plenty of love.

      She was from the south, not very well educated, out of her mind a lot, but loved her children fiercely. The main things she gave me were tenacity and a sense of right and wrong. In 1978 she died from her sixth bout with cancer, but she was ready to go. She left me with weirdness and a lot of songs.

      My dad had moved to Florida because he couldn’t be extradited from there to adhere to the Deadbeat Dad laws. In Florida, he met another woman and supported her kids. I’ve spoken in front of the Congressional sub-committee on Bill HR 1488 which tried to take the power to effect existing laws from the states to the federal government. It did not pass.

      My dad’s almost 90 now and still doesn’t get it. The last time I spoke with him was when my mom was terminally ill. He said he wanted to see my daughter and I told him that in order to have a relationship, all he had to do was call my mother and be accountable and let her talk, and I’d forgive him. He never made the call.

      My role models were a drug addict brother who overdosed and a drug addict brother-in-law who could never control his demons and was abusive to my sister, who finally left him.

      The whole idea of being a parent is that we can give our kids less damage than our parents gave us. My oldest daughter is a great human being; my little one is fiery. I love being a parent. It’s the best thing in the world. It makes it all make sense to me.

      When my first baby was born, Everclear was a brand new band. It was two years before we had a label deal. I was on welfare and started crying one night. I realized I wasn’t the main priority anymore. Once I accepted that, I knew that I’d figure it out. I had to.

      I love moms. People don’t usually get salted in life, they’re not as interesting until they’re parents. I could be in a line at Wal-Mart and be behind an NRA (National Rifle Association) person with nothing in common except that she’s a mom and I’m a dad. There’s a universal understanding and bond that allows us to connect and communicate.

      Father of Mine

      Father of mine

      Tell me where have you been.

      You know I just close my eyes

      My whole world disappeared.

      Father of mine

      Take me back to the day

      Yeah, when I was still your golden boy

      Back before you went away.

      I remember blue skies

      Walking the block

      I loved it when you held me high,

      I loved to hear you talk.

      You would take me to the movies,

      You would take me to the beach,

      Take me to a place inside

      That was so hard to reach.

      Father of mine

      Tell me, where did you go?

      You had the world inside your hand

      But you did not seem to know.

      Father of mine

      Tell me, what do you see

      When you look back at your wasted life

      And you don’t see me?

      I was ten years old

      Doing all that

      I could

      It wasn’t easy for me

      To be a scared white boy in a black neighborhood.

      Sometimes you would send me a birthday card

      With a five dollar bill.

      Yeah, I never understood you then

      And I guess I never will.

      Daddy gave me a name

      My daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      Daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      My daddy gave me a name…

      Daddy gave me a name

      My daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      Daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      My daddy gave me a name…

      Yeah, yeah, oh yeah

      Father of mine

      Tell me where have you been?

      I just close my eyes

      And the world disappeared.

      Father of mine

      Tell me how do you sleep

      With the children you abandoned

      And the wife I saw you beat?

      I will never be safe

      I will never be sane

      I will always be weird inside

      I will always be lame.

      Now I’m a grown man

      With a child of my own

      And I swear that I’m not gonna let her know

      All the pain

      I have known.

      Then he walked away.

      Daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      My daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      My daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away.

      My daddy gave me a name

      Then he walked away

      Then he walked away

      Then he walked away.

      Lyrics and Music by Art Alexakis. © 1997 Evergleam Music/Songs of Universal, Inc/Montalupis Music/Commongreen Music/Irving Music, Inc.

      Paul Anka

      My Way

      Written by Paul Anka

      Recorded by Frank Sinatra

      I became globalized early in my career. I traveled internationally a great deal as a kid and lived in several countries. I was sitting outside my house in the countryside in France one day and heard a Claude François record. As a musician, I hear lots of options in songs and that held true with this one.

      It was the late ’60s and, on my way home to the United States, I stopped in Paris. I was pretty well connected there so I found the publisher of the song and met with him and told him I thought the song was interesting. He asked what I wanted and I said, The rights. We signed a simple two-page contract that I took back to the States with me. I transformed the record to a piano lead sheet and put it in my drawer to come back to later.

      I had a close relationship with Frank Sinatra at the time because we worked together many times when the Rat Pack was at the Sands Hotel and I was the youngest performer in Las Vegas. We spent quite a bit of time together; he was like a mentor to me. Thus, one of my career goals was to write for him even though I knew he hated pop music. He liked Gershwin, Porter. That was his kind of music.

      Don Costa was my A&R/producer and part of my life from age 16 on. I introduced Frank to Don, who subsequently became his record producer.

      I played the Fontainebleau in Miami and, on one occasion, Frank was doing a detective movie down there. We got together for dinner and he told me that he was tired of the government’s Mafia accusations. They were bugging his phones so he had to change his number every other day. He’d go into rooms and there’d be holes in the walls from pulling out the phones and installing new ones. He said he was quitting the business, getting out of the public eye. I couldn’t fathom him not being in our lives.

      I knew that Don (Costa) was doing one more album with Frank so I pulled out the sheet of the French song and thought about what Frank would say if he were writing it. The song morphed itself. I began typing and it wrote itself in about five hours. I typed everything. I was in the habit of using a typewriter from my days working at a newspaper when I had aspirations to be a journalist. I kept the typewriter next to my piano whenever I wrote.

      The first line is metaphorical, referring not only to age but to the fact that he was going to quit:

      And now, the end is near

      And so I face the final curtain.

      I called Don and Frank at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas to let them know I’d written a song for him and that I wanted to do a piano demo and get it to him. Shortly after that, I was playing the Sahara and had it delivered to him. I got a call that Frank wanted to do it.

      They recorded it in Los Angeles at United Recording studio. Sinatra said, Kid, I want you to hear something. He always called me kid; in fact, he made robes for the Rat Pack and me with our names on them — mine said KID.

      Costa got on the phone and put it to the speaker and played the recording. I knew then that this was the turning point in my career and my life. There was something in the mix that Sinatra wasn’t happy with, so after the records were pressed, he had them throw out 50,000 records and press the corrected version. This record turned everything around for him, too.

      My record company at the time, RCA Victor, was unhappy. They had wanted me to record it but in my mind, I was old enough to write it but not to record it. It was not proper casting and I knew I had to check my ego at the door. You need the right artist to make a song happen. Lots of people have recorded this song, but his is the important version for me.

      My Way

      And now, the end is near

      And so I face the final curtain.

      My friend, I’ll say it clear,

      I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.

      I’ve lived a life that’s full,

      I’ve traveled each and ev’ry highway

      And more, much more than this,

      I did it my way.

      Regrets, I’ve had a few

      But then again, too few to mention.

      I did what I had to do

      And saw it through without exemption.

      I planned each charted course;

      Each careful step along the byway,

      But more, much more than this,

      I did it my way.

      Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew,

      When I bit off more than I could chew.

      But through it all, when there was doubt,

      I ate it up and spit it out.

      I faced it all and I stood tall

      And did it my way.

      I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried.

      I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.

      And now, as tears subside,

      I find it all so amusing.

      To think I did all that;

      And may I say — not in a shy way,

      No, oh no not me,

      I did it my way.

      For what is a man, what has he got?

      If not himself, then he has naught.

      To say the things he truly feels,

      And not the words of one who kneels.

      The record shows I took the blows —

      And did it my way!

      English Words by Paul Anka; Original French Words by Gilles Thibault; Music by Jacques Revaux and Claude Francois. © 1967 Societe Des Nouvelles and Editions Eddie Barclay. © 1969 Chrysalis Standards, Inc. Copyright Renewed. All Rights for the USA Administered by Chrysalis Standards, Inc., Editions Jeune Musique, Warner Chappell Music France, Jingoro Co. and Architectural Music Co. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

      Paul Anka

      The Longest Day

      Written and Recorded by Paul Anka

      When I was about 20 or 21, I was hired as an actor in The Longest Day produced by Darryl Zanuck, who was quite a character — and I only mean that in a good way. He hired the cast of 100 stars, John Wayne, Richard Burton, Sean Connery were just a few, and the teen contingent I was a part of — Tommy Sands, Fabian — and put us all on the beaches of Normandy in the movie based on the book by Cornelius Ryan.

      On one occasion at lunch, when we’d take our breaks, I asked Mr. Zanuck if I could write the music for the film. He was a great guy, with a cigarette and a hat. He said, Who’s doing music? That’s a New York thing. No music, no love story. This went on throughout the film. I’d repeatedly ask if he was sure he didn’t want music. He would always have the same response, No music. No love story. It was funny because his mistress was in the movie.

      On the last day of shooting, as we were saying goodbye, I told him that I had a melody in my head and that I was going to go home and record a demo at my own expense. Once again he said, No music. No love story. I spent $2,000 out of my pocket and laid down the tracks for The Longest Day and sent it to him.

      I got a telegram from Mr. Zanuck that said: There’s going to be music — You’ve got it. He said that only that theme will be used and asked me, Who would you like to work with? Maurice Jarre. What do you want for the song? I told him, Just the publishing, no money. When Twentieth Century Fox, the company putting out the film, found out that I got the publishing, they really started bugging me. Mr. Zanuck told them, Leave him alone, I gave him my word. And they did.

      The song got an Academy Award nomination. This song and The Tonight Show theme were great for me.

      The Longest Day

      Many men came here as soldiers

      Many men will pass this way

      Many men will count the hours

      As they live the longest day.

      Many men are tired and weary

      Many men are here to stay

      Many men won’t see the sunset

      When it ends the longest day.

      The longest day, the longest day,

      This will be the longest day.

      Filled with hopes and filled with fears

      Filled with blood and sweat and tears

      Many men the mighty thousands

      Many men to victory

      Marching on right into battle

      In the longest day in history.

      Words and Music by Paul Anka. © 1961 Chrysalis Standards, Inc. Copyright Renewed. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

      Tony Asher

      Wouldn’t It Be Nice

      Written by Tony Asher and Brian Wilson

      Recorded by The Beach Boys

      In the mid-sixties, I was working as a copywriter at an advertising agency (Carson/Roberts, Inc.) writing jingles and scoring commercials primarily for Mattel Toys. As a result, I spent a lot of time in recording studios. On one such occasion I ran into Brian Wilson whom I recognized but had never met. Brian was recording some song demos in another studio and we began to chat. Eventually Brian asked me to come listen to some of the things he had been recording. I later discovered that it was typical of Brian to do that. He loved to hear what anyone thought about the music he was working on. I remember one time he asked a FedEx delivery guy to listen to a song and give him his reaction. Brian wrote songs not to impress professional musicians but really for the average guy on the street.

      After we listened to a couple of the tracks he had been recording, the engineers asked us to go out into the studio so they could finish up editing and transferring in time for the next scheduled session. So Brian and I sat at a piano in the studio — side by side on the piano bench — trading ideas. Brian started playing a rhythmic feel that he liked and asked me what I thought. I said something like, Yeah. I love that. I started writing something sort of like that. And then I played him my idea.

      Brian then said something like Wow. That would sound great in minor! and played a few bars in a minor key. And so it went. We kept bouncing ideas off each other for quite a while. It wasn’t one-upmanship so much as it was really enjoying the instant connection music provided. Soon I realized I had to return to my own session down the hall and we said goodbye. I frankly wondered if I’d ever see him again.

      But, as it turned out, we had a mutual friend named Loren. I didn’t know he knew Brian and apparently Brian told Loren about having met me. At the time, Brian was worried about how he was going to deliver an overdue album to Capitol Records. The rest of The Beach Boys were on tour in Japan. Besides, Brian had decided he didn’t want to write songs for the new album with any of the writers he had worked with

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