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this song has no title

It was 1973 and I was 11 years old.

I sat in my friend Jimmy Martin’s house staring at his parents’ behemoth console stereo as songs from Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” filled his living room on a Saturday morning.

It was visceral like upon first listen. I hadn't yet learned the fundamentals of musical theory but I felt there was something a little different going on. Bernie Taupin’s poetic lyricism matched perfectly with John’s music to create a sonic landscape; each tune emblematic of a slice of Americana which the duo had grown up idolizing in their native England.

After that, my father’s pleas for me to start piano would finally be answered as I requested he start me off with the lessons he had promised. For I had found a purpose in wanting to replicate what I had heard that day.

One of the many wonderful songs from that album was called “This Song has No Title”. At just shy of 3 minutes long it was both inventive in lyric and in music with an arpeggio piano perfectly complimenting Bernie Taupin's words.

The seventies presented the artist with a full palette of creative freedom that would slowly disappear over time as the music industry increasingly aimed for commercial success regardless of quality; this little masterpiece managed to combine both. Many of my favorite releases of all time were created during this magical decade....

"Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me the courtrooms where the judges have lied

Let me drink deeply from the water and the wine
Light colored candles in dark dreary mines
Look in the mirror and stare at myself
And wonder if that's really me on the shelf

And each day I learn just a little bit more
I don't know why but I do know what for
If we're all going somewhere let's get there soon
Oh this song's got no title just words and a tune

Take me down alleys where the murders are done
In a vast high powered rocket to the core of the sun
Want to read books in the studies of men
Born on the breeze and die on the wind

If I was an artist who paints with his eyes
I'd study my subject and silently cry
Cry for the darkness to come down on me
confusion to carry on turning the wheel

And each day I learn just a little bit more
I don't know why but I do know what for
If we're all going somewhere let's get there soon
Oh this song's got no title just words and a tune"


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