I’ve been creating for a while now, and one thing I’ve learned is that it’s all about finding your groove, your unique voice. But what happens when you want to write for someone else? When you hear a melody in your head and lyrics start to form, but you realize they just don’t quite fit the artist you’re imagining? That’s the challenge, and honestly, the sheer joy, of writing what I call a tailored lyric.
It’s not about trying to copy what someone else does; it’s so much deeper than that. It’s about truly understanding them, almost inhabiting their artistic world for a bit, and then shaping words that feel like a natural extension of who they are and what they’ve already created. Think of it like being an invisible sculptor, carefully molding words to fit a specific singing style and an artist’s established personality. This isn’t just a casual chat about writing; it’s my personal take, my blueprint for truly locking into that amazing feeling of lyrical harmony.
Why This Tailored Approach Just Works
When I sit down to write for another artist, my main goal is for those lyrics to feel absolutely authentic coming from their mouth. There’s a huge difference between writing a general song and crafting something specific. General songs try to appeal to everyone, but targeted writing? That’s about building a deep, personal connection with an artist’s existing fans and their whole vibe. It’s not just about a decent song; it’s about a song that actually grows and strengthens who they are as an artist.
Think about it: what if I wrote something brilliant, but it just didn’t suit them? It would feel forced, wouldn’t it? Unconvincing. The artist would struggle to really feel it when they perform it. And the audience? They’d pick up on that disconnect. It’s a missed shot, a creative stumble. But when I tailor my writing, I know it’s going to hit hard, really land with their audience, and turn a simple song into a vital part of their story.
Phase 1: Going Deep – Exploring Their Universe
Before any words even hit the page, I immerse myself. And I mean immerse. It’s almost obsessive, figuring out everything about the artist I’m writing for. This isn’t just putting their music on in the background; it’s actively dissecting it.
1.1 Their Sound Signature: Breaking Down the Music
Every artist has their own unique musical fingerprint. It’s way more than just the genre they play. It’s about the rhythm, the melody, the harmonies, and even the instruments they typically use.
- How They Use Their Voice: What is their voice comfortable doing? Do they soar to high notes, have a gritty low tone, or a soft, gentle way of singing? Do they belt out words, whisper them, rap, or croon? I listen for their vocal quirks – that signature run, a particular way they emphasize something, a breathy moment, or a powerful vibrato. For instance, if I’m writing for someone who’s all about those big, sustained power notes, I’m not going to load up the verses with tons of words that don’t give their voice room to shine. But if they’re a spoken-word artist, I know I need to focus on intricate rhymes and complex rhythms.
- Their Melodic Habits: Do their melodies usually go up or down? Are they smooth or angular? Do they prefer happy-sounding major keys, sad minor keys, or something more unusual? If an artist’s melodies are often deeply melancholic and drop into a minor key, I wouldn’t write something super cheerful like “sunshine bright and happy days.” It just wouldn’t fit. Instead, I’d lean into something more in tune with that feeling, like “shadows lengthen, spirits fade.”
- The Rhythm of Their Words: How do their current lyrics fit the music? Is there a lot of syncopation (off-beat rhythms)? Are lines often broken up, or do they flow smoothly? How many syllables generally fit in their typical rhythmic patterns? A rapper with a super fast delivery needs lines packed with syllables, maybe 16-20 per line. A folk singer, though, might thrive on shorter, more deliberate phrases, perhaps 8-12 syllables.
- Instruments and Production: How does the typical instrumentation affect how much space the lyrics have? Is the music sparse, letting the words come through clearly, or is it dense, meaning the lyrics need to be more concise? An artist with heavy, driving electronic beats might need more rhythmic, percussive language. An acoustic artist, on the other hand, allows for more thoughtful, descriptive phrasing.
1.2 Their Lyrical DNA: Unpacking Their Current Work
This is where I turn into a bit of a linguistic detective. I go through their entire collection of songs, listening song by song, line by line.
- What They Talk About: What themes come up again and again in their music? Is it love, heartbreak, social issues, introspection, party anthems, or fantasy? Do they explore specific types of relationships? Do they often write about their childhood, their hometown, or certain emotions? If an artist mostly sings about overcoming challenges, a lyric about shallow materialism would feel out of place, unless it was a critique of it.
- Their Words and Vocabulary: What kind of words do they use? Are they formal, casual, poetic, or street-level? Do they prefer abstract ideas or concrete images? Do they use slang, and if so, what generation or region does it come from? Someone like Taylor Swift often uses relatable, conversational language with very specific, story-driven images (“long drives,” “scarf,” “coffee shop”). A hip-hop artist might use more vivid, sometimes gritty, street-oriented vocabulary (“hustle,” “block,” “cipher”). I make sure not to throw in jargon or super specific terms that feel foreign to their established way of speaking.
- Figurative Language & Poetic Tools: Do they use metaphors, similes (like/as comparisons), personification (giving human qualities to objects), or exaggeration? Are they subtle or obvious about it? Do they like alliteration (repeated initial sounds), assonance (repeated vowel sounds), or internal rhymes? What kind of rhyme scheme do they usually use (AABB, ABAB, AAAA)? Do they often use near rhymes or perfect rhymes? If an artist rarely uses complex metaphors, I won’t suddenly hit them with a bunch of abstract imagery. If they often use internal rhymes, I’ll weave that into my structure.
- How They Tell Stories: Are their lyrics typically told from a first-person perspective (I/me), third-person (he/she/they), or all-knowing? Do they tell stories, express feelings, or paint scenes? Are they direct or mysterious? Do their stories have clear beginnings, middles, and ends, or are they fragmented snapshots? A storyteller like Bob Dylan thrives on songs with characters and plot, while someone like Adele, who is highly emotional, leans into raw expressions of feeling.
- Lyric Length and Density: How many lines per verse do they usually have? How many words per line? Are their songs packed with lyrics, or do instrumental breaks give the music room to breathe? Are their choruses typically short and punchy, or longer and more layered? If an artist’s choruses are usually four short, impactful lines, I wouldn’t write a sprawling eight-line chorus; it would just overwhelm their established style.
1.3 Their Public Image: Beyond Just the Music
An artist’s public persona acts as a crucial filter. What story are they telling the world?
- What They Say in Public: What do they talk about in interviews? What causes do they support? What are their known beliefs, opinions, and personal history (as far as they’ve shared it publicly)? If an artist is a well-known environmental activist, a song that celebrates excessive consumption would feel completely off.
- Their Social Media: How do they talk to their fans online? What’s their tone? What parts of their life do they share? An artist who constantly shares vulnerable, introspective posts would likely be more open to lyrics about mental health than an artist whose social media is solely about showing off wealth.
- Their Fanbase: Who listens to them? What do their fans expect? Are they looking for comfort, inspiration, rebellion, or a way to escape? Writing a heavily political song for an artist whose fans seek romantic, escapist tunes might just alienate their core audience.
Phase 2: Finding the Connection – Blending My Voice with Theirs
Now, with all that understanding, I begin the delicate dance of mixing my creative spark with their established universe.
2.1 Seeing Constraints as Creative Fuel
Instead of thinking of the artist’s existing style as limiting, I see it as an exciting set of boundaries. These boundaries actually push me to be more inventive, more precise.
- The “Artist Filter”: Before I write a single line, I ask myself, “Would they say this? And in this way?” I imagine them performing it. Does it feel natural, or does it feel like a costume they’re putting on? For an artist known for their raw honesty, I’ll avoid overly vague or poetic phrasing if directness is their trademark.
- Borrow, Don’t Copy: I identify patterns, but I don’t just copy specific phrases. I try to understand why they make the choices they do. If they often use natural imagery, I’ll think of new, authentic nature similes that fit their emotional tone, rather than just reusing the same old phrases.
- Finding Room to Grow: While staying within their world, I think about where they might expand. Has their recent work shown hints of new directions or a certain maturity? Can I offer a fresh take on a recurring theme that still feels true to them? If an artist often sings about heartbreak from a place of vulnerability, maybe a new song could explore the journey of healing and empowerment after heartbreak, showing growth without abandoning the core theme.
2.2 My Entry Point: The ‘Hook’ of Authenticity
How do I step into their world and add a unique piece that fits in seamlessly?
- Emotional Connection: What emotion do they express most powerfully? Can I tap into that emotion from a slightly different angle or with a new trigger? If their strength is a melancholic longing, I might propose a lyric exploring a specific kind of longing they haven’t explicitly covered – perhaps longing for a lost dream, not just a lost love.
- Changing Perspectives: Could I tell a story from a different character’s point of view within their established world? Or explore what happens after an event they sang about previously? If they have a famous song about a difficult relationship, maybe I’d write a follow-up detailing the lessons learned or the lasting impact years later.
- The ‘What If’: What if they pursued a theme or idea that was briefly mentioned but never fully explored? If they’ve often sung about feelings of alienation, what if a new song explored the moment of connection that breaks through that alienation?
Phase 3: Weaving the Lyrical Fabric – From Idea to Finish
This is where the ideas become real, where words start to form.
3.1 Brainstorming and Developing Concepts: The Idea Forge
- Keyword Connections: Based on all my research, I list keywords, themes, and images associated with the artist. These become my starting points. For a country artist focused on rural life, I might list “dirt roads,” “tractor,” “sunset,” “pickup truck,” “small town,” “cornfields.” Then, I think about how these elements interact with feelings like longing, freedom, or nostalgia.
- Creating Scenarios: I imagine specific situations or stories that fit their persona. For a protest singer, I might imagine a street demonstration, a specific news event, or a personal struggle against injustice.
- Collecting Phrases: I keep an ongoing list of phrases, metaphors, or lines that sound “like them” or could be adapted to their style. I don’t censor myself; I just collect.
3.2 Rhyme, Rhythm, and Flow: The Workshop
This is where all that detailed lyrical DNA I uncovered becomes my roadmap.
- Matching Syllables and Meter: I pay super close attention to how many syllables typically fit a melodic line in their songs. If their songs usually have verses with 8-syllable lines, I stick to that. If their melodies naturally lend themselves to consistent two-beat emphasizes per line, I build my lines to stress those same strong beats.
- Rhyme Scheme Consistency: If they mostly use AABB, I stick to it. If they prefer complex internal rhymes and a looser ABAB CDCD structure, I lean into that. I don’t suddenly throw in a rigid AAAA scheme if they’ve never used it.
- Vowel and Consonant Sounds (How It Sounds): I listen to the artist’s vocal quality. Do they sound better with open vowel sounds or sharp consonants? I choose my words to make it easy to sing and sound good. For a singer with a very smooth, flowing delivery, I avoid too many harsh “stop” sounds (like p, b, t, d, k, g) that might break up their flow. I focus on smooth sounds (like l, r) and nasal sounds (like m, n).
- Cadence and Phrasing: I say my lyrics out loud. Do they feel comfortable to sing in the artist’s style? Do they flow naturally or feel clunky? Where would the artist naturally pause, breathe, or emphasize words? A rap artist will benefit from sharp, impactful words at the end of lines for máximo punch, while a crooner might prefer softer, more drawn-out sounds.
3.3 Word Choice and Imagery: The Artist’s Brushstrokes
Every word is like a brushstroke. I make sure they belong to the artist’s own color palette.
- Subtle Echoes, Not Direct Copies: I use similar types of imagery or repeating ideas, but I always present them in a fresh, original way. If they frequently mention specific landmarks, I’ll conjure similar local imagery from a different angle, not just repeat the same place names.
- Matching Emotional Vocabulary: Does the emotional weight of my words match their established emotional range? If they’re known for raw, unfiltered emotion, I don’t use overly academic or detached language. For an artist known for their vulnerability, “My heart shattered into a million pieces” is more fitting than “My cardiological function experienced significant impairment.”
- Sensory Details: What senses do they typically engage in their lyrics? Do they describe sights, sounds, smells, tastes, or textures? I try to include similar sensory richness. If an artist’s lyrics are often rich with visual detail, I make sure my lyrics create strong mental images rather than abstract ideas.
3.4 Structuring for Their Style: The Song Blueprint
A great lyric flows, but a tailored lyric also structures itself to the artist’s common song forms.
- Verse-Chorus Relationship: How do their verses typically build to their choruses? Is the chorus a direct answer, an emotional explosion, or a summary of the theme? If their choruses are designed for singalongs, I ensure mine has a strong, memorable hook and simple, repeatable language.
- Bridge Function: How do they typically use their bridges? Is it a shift in perspective, a moment of reflection, a climax, or a turning point in the story? If their bridges often provide unexpected revelations, I make sure mine offers a twist or deeper insight.
- Pre-Chorus and Post-Chorus: Do they use these sections? If so, what is their typical purpose? A pre-chorus might build anticipation, a post-chorus might extend the impact of the chorus.
- Outro: How do their songs typically end? A fade-out, a final statement, a raw vocal ad-lib, or a last instrumental flourish? I design my outro lyric to support how they usually end a song.
Phase 4: Refinement and Feedback – The Polishing Process
Even the most intuitive lyrics need a thorough polish.
4.1 The Impersonation Test: Singing the Lyrics
- Sing It Out Loud (as the Artist): This is absolutely essential. I put myself in their shoes. I sing the lyrics. Do they roll off the tongue? Are there awkward phrases, words that don’t quite fit the melody, or lines that make it hard to sing? If a line forces a singer to take a breath in an unnatural spot, I rephrase it. If a word feels clunky to say at a specific speed, I find a synonym.
- Record Myself: I don’t just sing it; I record it. Then I listen back objectively. Does it sound like them? Or at least, does it sound like a song they could sing authentically?
4.2 The “Fan” Test: Getting Outside Opinions
- Ask for Feedback from Knowledgeable Listeners: I find someone who really knows the artist’s work. I ask them, “Does this sound like something [Artist Name] would sing? Does it feel authentic? What parts feel off?” I have to be open to constructive criticism.
- The Plausibility Check: If I presented this song to their existing fanbase, would they immediately recognize it as belonging to their artist, or would they question its origin?
4.3 The Final Polish: Precision and Punch
- Cut What’s Not Needed: Every word has to earn its spot. If a phrase doesn’t add new meaning or emotion, I cut it.
- Strengthen Verbs and Nouns: I use active language. I replace weak verbs and general nouns with stronger, more vivid alternatives.
- Refine Rhyme and Rhythm: I make sure all rhymes serve the story and emotion, not just exist for the sake of rhyming. I smooth out any rhythmic bumps.
In Conclusion: The Art of Transparent Creation
For me, writing lyrics for a specific artist is a deeply rewarding creative challenge. It’s about stepping into someone else’s artistic skin, really understanding their voice, their history, their very essence, and then creating something new that amplifies their existing story. It demands careful analysis, an intuitive understanding, and meticulous craftsmanship. When it works, the songwriter (me, in this case!) becomes beautifully invisible, and the listener experiences a song that feels utterly, undeniably, authentically theirs. This isn’t just writing; it’s a form of artistic collaboration that goes beyond ego and truly deepens the connection between the artist and their audience.