When embellishment is stripped away the heart of a song is revealed.

————

 I like the musical sound of this word. It's not quite onomatopoeia, but there is a sort 

of trill in the pronunciation. Not many singing musicians these days are called troubadours. 

We prefer to call our troubadours, singer-songwriters.

         The combination of a single voice with a single instrument is ancient. So too, is the weaving of melody and lyric into an aural art that tells a story - almost like a mini-opera. 

          Good mini-operas can be expanded with backup players, choruses, and harmonies. 

They can even be expanded into full-blown productions. Expanded mini-operas can disguise flaws that are clearly exposed by one musician playing one instrument. 

          There, is the value of the troubadour form: embellishment is stripped away to reveal 

the heart of the work. The same can be said of purely instrumental work. Art, or lack thereof,

is revealed when background ornamentation is removed. 

          I enjoy small bands, orchestras, and full-blown productions as much as anybody, though only a simple version can separate the grain from the chaff.

          There is also an intimacy to simple melody and lyric that big productions strangle. 

          Amazing Grace gains nothing when performed by orchestration and a thousand voices that it doesn't have when performed by a one singer and a guitar. 

          Perhaps the quintessential truth of this is the lasting beauty of Greensleeves. Not every song can rise to the perfect structure of Greensleeves, but it's a perfection to aspire to. 

          Styles of music come and go. Good is always the same, whether Jazz, Rock, Bluegrass, Country, Mendelson, or simple Troubadour. 

          I'm sorry the word has been so much abandoned. Singer-songwriter is a mealy-mouthed vagueness that fails to appreciate the venerable tradition of Troubadour. 

          Sir Kenneth Clark has said, "That, which is too silly to be said, may be sung". A good thing too. Paul McCartney seems to concur in Silly Love Songs, despite the greater part of his career being silly love songs. Simple words of love aren't made to be carved on stone, they're made to be engraved on the heart. 

          When combined with just the right music they convey emotional power far beyond 

the reach of intelligent, discursive prose. 

          Sing me away to a place that used to be. Sing me away to a love that once was. Sing me away to a world that ought to be. Make my memory come alive. 

          The best of Troubadours do just that, even when sullied as singer-songwriter.

          Honor the Troubadour.

By K. L. Shipley

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