Writers Can Get Anything They Want… At Alice’s Restaurant.
Friday, 5 December 2008
Glenn at Divine Write recently wrote about a Cold Chisel tune that really connects with the band’s audience. That led him to ask a few interesting questions: “What songs boast lyrics that really resonate? And why?”
His post made me think of Thanksgiving.
On Thanksgiving morning, I was called upon to make the infamous “run to the store for the stuff we forgot” errand. While trying to remember how to navigate a series of semi-familiar one-way streets on my way to the only open grocery store in southern New Jersey, I got lucky.
Thanks to a pressing need for pineapple chunks and a friendly FM radio station I had the opportunity to engage in the Thanksgiving tradition of listening to Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant”.
This sixties sing-talk opus of littering gone awry and Viet Nam War avoidance has, according to Guthrie, transformed into more of a Thanksgiving ballad than a protest song over the last forty years.
Guthrie credits the tune’s longevity to its underlying theme of “a little guy” against a big world. It doesn’t hurt that it’s funny, either. But I think there’s more to “Alice’s” than that. I think it continues to work long after the end of its apparent relevance because it’s well-written.
Arlo teaches at least three valuable lessons for those of us who find ourselves frequently working in “conversational” niches in “Alice’s Restaurant”.
Personality. Love it or hate it, “Alice’s” is personality-driven. You know damn well within a few minutes that you’re listening to a smug, smart-alecky hippie kid with a winking “aw, shucks” accent and a sense of humor. This song resonates because it’s not just a song–it’s a person. That’s something writers need to remember, too. Forging a connection with readers isn’t just about conveying the message. It’s just as important to convey the message with humanity and personality.
Hook. It’s easier to stop eating Lay’s potato chips after the first one than it is to stop singing the chorus of “Alice’s Restaurant”. It has a real earworm hook. Obviously, you can’t create that kind of melody with text. You can, however, turn a phrase or deliver a message that really, really registers. “Alice’s” reminds us to strive for a modicum of unforgettability.
Repetition. Guthrie frequently repeats key ideas and details throughout the song. That decision has more than poetic significance. The structuring and repetition leaves the listener with some very indelible images that stick only because they’ve been hammered home. In addition to the larger repetitions there are embedded instances of parallel construction that work very well. Writers don’t want to be redundant, but there’s power in carefully-handled repetition.
Story. It’s a story song and that’s one big reason people remember it. We should never underestimate the power of narrative forms when we write–even when we’re not necessarily working on projects that don’t automatically lend themselves to obvious storytelling. You may not be able to create a fable for every occasion, but you can utilize aspects of narrative construction to improve just about anything you write.
So, when you walk into the shrink, wherever you are, just walk in and say, “Shrink, writers can get anything they want… At Alice’s restaurant”.
I couldn’t find a good version of the original tune, but here’s the trailer for the subsequent movie adaptation of the song:

No. 1 — December 5th, 2008 at 10:27 pm
[...] Continued here: Writers Can Get Anything They Want… At Alice’s Restaurant. [...]
No. 2 — December 6th, 2008 at 4:03 am
[...] Thanks to a pressing need for pineapple chunks and a friendly FM radio station I had the opportunity to engage in the Thanksgiving tradition of listening to Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant”. This sixties sing-talk opus of littering …[Continue Reading] [...]