Lyrics

The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl's Christmas tune has come under fire over its lyrical content.
All the literary women I have loved have been moved by an idea of love as something that is enormous, life changing, all-consuming, their raison d'être: Emma Bovary, Antoinette Rochester (the 'mad woman in the attic' from Jane Eyre who is brought to life in Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea,) and my absolute favourite, Catherine Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights...
The show revolves around a little shop in Budapest and two of its employees. Despite being consistently at odds with each other at work, through lonely hearts ads they unknowingly become each other's anonymous pen pals and a world of witty romance evolves.
Warning: you may never be able to hear these songs in the same way again. From k.d. lang bemoaning the fact that she can't
Why did we feel the need to set our words to music? Why not just write poetry? Music has existed for hundreds of years (with and without lyrics!), so it clearly appeals to the human race. Who among us doesn't listen to music in some way every single day? What is it about music that we enjoy so much? And how do I go about trying to explain this?
There is music which crosses your path, and totally changes the direction you take. Maybe it was playing at the moment you took a certain fork in the road, like a soundtrack to your life, or maybe they were the motivation for the decision. I have ten such songs.
In which one of our favourite exports (Hugh Laurie) answers questions posed by some of our favourite philosophers (Sheryl
What vexes me most is not that these artists are indolently committing crimes against the English language, but that they are wasting a hallowed opportunity. Words add depth, colour and personality to a song. In fact, they become even more powerful when projected onto a musical backdrop, which is why I shudder when lyricists make a conscious decision to rhyme nonsensical syllables.
Our favourite prank of the week so far comes courtesy of US talk show host Ellen DeGeneres who sent one of her writers off
From the man once embarrassingly dubbed ‘Shakespeare for clubbers’, a book should be an exciting prospect. Unfortunately