Copyright 2000 Susanne M. Alexander
Contemporary Songwriter Magazine
Don't Try To Rhyme Anything with Orange
By Susanne M. Alexander
Is Matthew Levine a gospel songwriter? No one seems very sure.
Also being questioned is the definition of gospel music. Levine's
song, "Forever Will Stand" has won three national songwriting
awards in the last two years. It placed first in Songwriters Resource
Network's "Great American Song Contest," took the grand prize
in Enormous Records' competition and was one of three finalists
in the 1998 John Lennon Songwriting Contest (out of 2700 gospel
entries). Each recognition was in the gospel category.
A review of Levine's other recordings reveals songs spanning pop,
Caribbean beat and contemporary spiritual. Let's just say that
he and his music are tough to pigeonhole. Gospel music is traditionally
associated with Christianity. Levine was raised Jewish and is
now a member of the Bahá'í Faith, which he says teaches that God
has sent many messengers, including Christ, Muhammad, Buddha and
most recently Bahá'u'lláh, in 1863. Levine says the message of
the song is pure Bahá'í Faith, as the religion is focused on building
a united and peaceful world that "forever will stand."
"When I wrote the song, I was drawing from the black Christian
tradition of gospel," says Levine, slim and olive-skinned. "Having
heard it and been influenced by Stevie Wonder, Earth, Wind & Fire
and George Benson, I liked gospel," he says. "It feels good. It's
uplifting. By the nature of Gospel music, it's good news. It's
designed to make you feel, it's designed to heal you. It makes
you want to shout, makes you want to cry, makes you want to move."
Levine's music is diverse, to say the least. In song content,
he varies from choir-like to passionate rock on his song, "Faith."
The song "Sushi in the Kremlin" is so authentically Caribbean
in accent that Levine's natural voice is almost unrecognizable
as he shares, "Here's to our international neighborhood; It'll
be so nice when we have sushi in the Kremlin, pizza in Japan..."
One of his most fun songs is "One of a Kind" which includes lines
like, 'Unconventionality is my Number One rule," and "If you march
to the beat of your own drum, who knows who you'll become; You
could be Chopin, Freud, and Ghandi combined." One has to wonder
just how autobiographical this song is.
Levine, now 42, has been songwriting and recording demos of his
songs since he was about 15. At 17, he and a friend composed a
song to go with a Disco Doll. He admits it was corny and the product
was unsuccessful commercially, but it gave him his first formal
experience in a recording studio.
He says he usually starts writing with a title. "Having a good
title is half the song," he says. "I have to have an angle, a
hook line, something to anchor the song so it doesn't spin off
in a million directions. The title can come from anything--the
Bahá'í Writings, a newspaper, a bit of music--virtually anywhere."
After the title, comes the lyrics, and then the music. "Music
is the meat and lyrics are the bones of a song," says Levine,"
"Without bones, there's just a blob of meat on the floor."
He says life changes have influenced his content. "I used to write
about anything and everything that interested me without thought
of spiritual consequences or long-term effects--lust, suicide,
sex, whatever," he says. "After becoming a Bahá'í, I had more
desire to write on spiritual themes, even if it's humorous or
fun." Levine says he hopes people will always get something positive
from his music, such as a sense of connectedness to others and
nature, a good laugh or a good cry. He hopes the positive spiritual
principles he shares will make a difference for his listeners.
Levine is most at home on the piano or keyboards, although he
plays some guitar and flute. At 21, living in a West Hollywood
tree house apartment, he fell in love with constructing songs
by spending hours listening to and transcribing albums by Steely
Dan, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon and others. "I learned
about pop arranging from doing that, discovering new chords and
new ways of writing songs," he says. "Every record was like a
lesson."
The old adage is that songwriting is 5 percent inspiration and
95 percent perspiration, and Levine agrees. Songwriter David MacKechnie,
who co-wrote "Phones are Ringing" that was recorded by Martina
McBride, has mentored Levine throughout his career. They have
also become friends. MacKechnie is a co-writer for three of the
songs on Levine's CD, "The Big Idea," which was self-produced
in 1995. MacKechnie stressed to the young songwriter the importance
of writing lyrics that were tight and well crafted. "I wasn't
born with a natural knack for lyrics," says Levine. "I've really
had to work at it. He didn't pull any punches and tore my songs
apart out of love. He loves the art of songwriting. Now I [Editor's
Note: in italics] write for the love of songwriting."
Levine says MacKechnie would put the songs under the microscope
and be brutally honest back to him. He asked him what a line had
to do with the song, made sure he hadn't picked a word just because
it rhymed or was convenient, kept him focused on only one message
in a song and made sure he didn't take the easy way out or settle
for less than the best. "When I finish a song, I always run it
past my 'quality control department,'" he says with a grin about
his group of reviewers that still includes MacKechnie. "When you
are too close to a song, you don't always see it from others'
points of view. You need feedback."
Rarely does creating a song happen in a day, says Levine. More
often, each takes weeks, months or even years. In 1994, Levine
decided to start recording masters of his songs. "It was an ordeal,"
he says. "I'm an all or nothing kind of guy, either do it the
cheap way or the full kitchen sink. I did the full kitchen sink."
Friends in Seattle became his "patrons" and offered him a year
of free living during recording. He raised money from friends,
and recorded one song at a time. In spite of everyone's generosity,
however, Levine is still paying off the $70,000 it took to record
his two CD's, "A Sacrifice to Thee" and "The Big Idea."
Uncertain what to do next in his life, since songwriting wasn't
going to make him a living, Levine started traveling the world
with the assistance of Bahá'ís in various places, who set up performances
for him and gave him places to sell his CD's. His plan worked,
he says, as he met his wife Jia-Yi Cheng in Pennsylvania. The
couple now lives in Houston, where Levine is a creative graphic
designer. They have a daughter, Dana, who is almost 3 years old,
and another child on the way.
Levine says his family is his first priority right now, so songwriting
happens only in rare, precious moments. He did write a humorous
jazz album full of songs about children after Dana's birth that
he's proud of, but he admits marketing was tough, as it didn't
fit anyone's demographics. He's working on a music-related book,
hoping it might find a receptive audience.
"You can't expect miracles when you are limited in resources,"
says Levine, who wonders half-seriously at times if the $1000
award he received in the John Lennon contest was better or not
than a lifetime supply of tuna. He said it was gratifying to win
the award and the money was appreciated, but it was hard to not
win first place, and difficult to not receive any recognition
from the music industry because of the award.
In spite of this, however, Levine says he doesn't think about
the outcome when he is writing a song. "You just have to treat
each idea as if it's a child, and give it the love, attention,
and time it needs to germinate into something natural and good,"
he says. "If it causes a lot of trouble, don't be afraid to discipline
it or put it back in a drawer for awhile. Keep writing what you
love and what will make a difference in the world. Don't limit
your potential for a limited market. However, don't try to rhyme
anything with orange."
Susanne M. Alexander is a freelance journalist in Cleveland, Ohio.
She is a member of the American Society of Journalists & Authors
and the Society of Professional Journalists.