This past Sunday, the NYTimes ran a piece about scientists who discover (and publish) "new" information, only to later learn that it was already known. The article quotes statistician Stephen Sigler saying that "the discovery that your discovery has already been discovered is surprisingly common...Not only does it occur in every scientific field, the 'very fact of multiple discoveries has been discovered many times.'

 I'm here to tell you it doesn't only happen in science. It happens in songwriting, too.

There's a funny phenomenon that occurs when you're writing a song. You put the rough pieces together, play it obsessively, tinker with the melody. It starts getting into its groove, and you play it another 37 times, polishing. It's a great song! You're a genius!

 Then, on the 38th run-through, a dismal thought leaps into your mind - "I didn't make this song up. I ripped this melody from something. What is it? It's too familiar. I couldn't have come up with this. Where did it come from?"

 The truth is, it might have come from your own inner font of creativity, but you just can't be sure. Once that thought arrives, it's awfully hard to get rid of. The tricky bit is that that thought can itself be an illusion, born of listening to your own self run through the same wrong dozens of times. Of course it's familiar by the time it's come together -- you know it from you.

I experienced this annoyance this weekend while working on both Bonnie's song and Clyde's song. Bonnie's sounds awfully close to some Nanci Griffith or Iris DeMent thing, and Clyde's is way too similar to the old-time tune "Reuben Train." So I'm trying to keep the flavor of 'Reuben Train' but make sure I'm not just borrowing the melody. And Bonnie's song is probably fine, just stylistically close to some others.

Fortunately, I don't have to record for another week plus, so I can keep working on them. Hopefully, I won't click the radio on (to WSCA, of course) and hear my latest 'original' composition as sung by its actual author. Here's hopin'.