Better Lyricists than Neil?

[RUSHHEAD666]

PHIL KENNEMMORE!!! Y&T!!!!! RIP

[RUSHHEAD666]

Neil Peart or Neil Young? Both Canucks!

[custom55]

More proof but I'm all about Pete's guitar playing on this one.

 

http://youtu.be/Sc4REpJ9FsE

Edited October 20, 2014 by custom55

[savagegrace26]

No mention of Leonard Cohen?

[greyfriar]

No mention of Leonard Cohen?

No. :P

[apetersvt]

I agree with Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and Paul Simon...Robert Hunter is another, and hasn't been mentioned (until just now). Also, some of Chris Robinson's lesser-known songs are absolute gems.

 

And I hesitate to classify any of this echelon of lyricists we're talking about as either better or worse than another. It's just a matter of preference, in a lot of cases.

 

Neil is a fantastic lyricist. Sure, there have been a few clunkers. That's just life.

 

The Black Crowes are my all-time favorite band, but I didn't bother to mention Chris because I assumed too many board members only associate the BC with Hard to Handle (cover tune) and Jealous Again (not brilliant in the lyric department).

 

But yes, Chris wrote some outstanding lyrics: Feathers, Title Song, Descending, Cursed Diamond, Sometimes Salvation, Under a Mountain, Girl from a Pawnshop...

 

Can't leave out Wiser Time.

 

I too have to mention Robert Hunter. It's understated (to me at least) how important he was to the Grateful Dead.

[Rod in Toronto]

I wouldn't say better than Neil, but Eddie Vedder's lyrics are very clever and never obvious.

[Union 5-3992]

Tom Waits

[Segue Myles]

Bruce Springsteen

 

[greyfriar]

http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh597/greyfriar2112/hammilllogo_zps7bdnqbd3.jpg

[Segue Myles]

Michael Jackson

[EagleMoon]

No. :)

[Digital Dad]

http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh597/greyfriar2112/hammilllogo_zps7bdnqbd3.jpg

 

After all is said and done, not very much will have been either way:

I'm a chronicler of action, I'm an actor in the play.

I know the lines I have to speak,

I know that I won't ever quit, corpse, or dry,

but the performance gets so pointless

and the days just drift on by.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

in the third act of this twenty-ninth year of the show

I'm aware of the latest leading lady and get mad at her...

it's perfunctory, but why she'll never know.

 

When I began I had my hopes,

believed that I could be a leading light of the stage,

but now I've stunned myself to silence,

exhausted all my inner rage,

extinguished all my joy and violence,

trapped all my feelings in a cage.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

I can see that I'm not really going anywhere;

all these years I have skirted round experience like a scavenger.

Can I really feel? I wonder if I dare?

At the end of the run, will there be anyone who cares?

And behind the actor's pose, heaven knows

if there's anyone left in there.

[treeduck]

Better lyricists than Neil?? ME

 

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I am so sexy boo boop bee doo

 

[New_World_Man]

For me Neil takes the cake.

[Segue Myles]

Better lyricists than Neil?? ME

 

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I am so sexy boo boop bee doo

 

 

Tears fell from my nose.

 

Beautiful!

[treeduck]

Better lyricists than Neil?? ME

 

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I am so sexy boo boop bee doo

 

 

Tears fell from my nose.

 

Beautiful!

Aye! :digi:

[Lucas]

Although he can be a pretentious little ****, I love Brian Molko from Placebo, esp his out-there early stuff

 

Neil Young is good too

 

Lyrically, Neil fell of the face of my earth during the 80s

 

 

[custom55]

PETE TOWNSHEND

 

 

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

 

No one knows what it's like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you

 

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

When my fist clenches, crack it open

Before I use it and lose my cool

When I smile, tell me some bad news

Before I laugh and act like a fool

 

If I swallow anything evil

Put your finger down my throat

If I shiver, please give me a blanket

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

[Boots]

Better Lyricists than Neil?

No

[greyfriar]

http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh597/greyfriar2112/hammilllogo_zps7bdnqbd3.jpg

 

After all is said and done, not very much will have been either way:

I'm a chronicler of action, I'm an actor in the play.

I know the lines I have to speak,

I know that I won't ever quit, corpse, or dry,

but the performance gets so pointless

and the days just drift on by.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

in the third act of this twenty-ninth year of the show

I'm aware of the latest leading lady and get mad at her...

it's perfunctory, but why she'll never know.

 

When I began I had my hopes,

believed that I could be a leading light of the stage,

but now I've stunned myself to silence,

exhausted all my inner rage,

extinguished all my joy and violence,

trapped all my feelings in a cage.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

I can see that I'm not really going anywhere;

all these years I have skirted round experience like a scavenger.

Can I really feel? I wonder if I dare?

At the end of the run, will there be anyone who cares?

And behind the actor's pose, heaven knows

if there's anyone left in there.

Searching for diamonds in the sulphur mine,

leaning on props that are rotten,

hoping for anything, looking for a sign

that I am not forgotten;

lost in a labyrinth of future mystery,

tracing my steps, all mistaken,

trusting to everything, praying it can be

that I am not forsaken,

I wait by the door,

wondering when you will come and keep me warm.

I pray for the end of the night,

hoping the light will still the storm

which presently entraps me:

helpless sea-monster stranded on the shore,

marooned in an ecstasy of waiting,

I yearn, although knowing that I shall dive no more

in the tide already racing.

 

My lungs burst to cry:

"Finally how could you leave me here to die?"

I freeze in the chill of this place

with no friendly face to smile goodbye...

how could you let it happen?

 

How could you let it happen?

Dreams, hopes and promises, fragments out of time,

all of these things have been spoken.

Still you don't understand how it feels when I'm

waiting for them to be broken.

[Entre_Perpetuo]

Peart is usually an absolutely excellent lyricist, though he's had a mentionable number of misses and/or silly experiments. However, I think he ended his trend of have a few duds on each album with CA. Lyrically focused, fluid, beautiful, and grand IMO. Probably his first lyrical mishap was Red Lenses. I dig everything before that, but afterwards, and mainly in the nineties, some songs really fell flat lyrically.

 

For his amazing highs, Peart's probably about my favorite, but there are certainly others I love, including:

 

Bernie Taupin (him and Elton were simply artistic soulmates)

 

Freddie Mercury (like Neil, Freddie did write a handful of clunky or silly lyrics throughout his career, but most of the time he was rather eloquent in a beautifully human way. I'll also take this chance to give some praise to the other three genius songwriters in Queen as well. They all had moments of lyrical mastery)

 

Max Collins (singer/songwriter/bassist for the often forgotten pop-punk trio, Eve 6. Excellent wordsmith much of the time, very playful and creative without ever sacrificing his juvenial voice)

 

Paul/John/George (I'll just shove them all together for time's sake. Each was a major pioneer in every aspect of Rock music, but songwriting is still what I believe to be their greatest talent and lyricism one of their best skills. Ringo wrote a couple funny things too).

 

Eddie Vedder

 

Thom Yorke

 

Roger Waters

 

Stevie Wonder

Edited November 9, 2015 by Entre_Perpetuo

[Digital Dad]

http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh597/greyfriar2112/hammilllogo_zps7bdnqbd3.jpg

 

After all is said and done, not very much will have been either way:

I'm a chronicler of action, I'm an actor in the play.

I know the lines I have to speak,

I know that I won't ever quit, corpse, or dry,

but the performance gets so pointless

and the days just drift on by.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

in the third act of this twenty-ninth year of the show

I'm aware of the latest leading lady and get mad at her...

it's perfunctory, but why she'll never know.

 

When I began I had my hopes,

believed that I could be a leading light of the stage,

but now I've stunned myself to silence,

exhausted all my inner rage,

extinguished all my joy and violence,

trapped all my feelings in a cage.

Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar

I can see that I'm not really going anywhere;

all these years I have skirted round experience like a scavenger.

Can I really feel? I wonder if I dare?

At the end of the run, will there be anyone who cares?

And behind the actor's pose, heaven knows

if there's anyone left in there.

Searching for diamonds in the sulphur mine,

leaning on props that are rotten,

hoping for anything, looking for a sign

that I am not forgotten;

lost in a labyrinth of future mystery,

tracing my steps, all mistaken,

trusting to everything, praying it can be

that I am not forsaken,

I wait by the door,

wondering when you will come and keep me warm.

I pray for the end of the night,

hoping the light will still the storm

which presently entraps me:

helpless sea-monster stranded on the shore,

marooned in an ecstasy of waiting,

I yearn, although knowing that I shall dive no more

in the tide already racing.

 

My lungs burst to cry:

"Finally how could you leave me here to die?"

I freeze in the chill of this place

with no friendly face to smile goodbye...

how could you let it happen?

 

How could you let it happen?

Dreams, hopes and promises, fragments out of time,

all of these things have been spoken.

Still you don't understand how it feels when I'm

waiting for them to be broken.

 

For every Still Life or Lemmings there is a Painting By Numbers or a Celebrity Kissing but overall his hits outweigh the misses.

 

 

[Lorraine]

PETE TOWNSHEND

 

 

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

 

No one knows what it's like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

And I blame you

 

No one bites back as hard

On their anger

None of my pain and woe

Can show through

 

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be

 

I have hours, only lonely

My love is vengeance

That's never free

 

When my fist clenches, crack it open

Before I use it and lose my cool

When I smile, tell me some bad news

Before I laugh and act like a fool

 

If I swallow anything evil

Put your finger down my throat

If I shiver, please give me a blanket

Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

 

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

 

You've got that right, and you haven't even touched the Quadrophenia lyrics yet. :)

 

:musicnote: My karma tells me

You've been screwed again

If you let them do it to you

You've got yourself to blame :musicnote:

Edited November 9, 2015 by Lorraine

[Lorraine]

Better lyricists than Neil?? ME

 

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I am so sexy boo boop bee doo

 

 

Roses are red

Violets are blue

There's a lyricist hiding

Inside of you