The third category is called Glitter Gel Pen and lives up to its name in every way. Frivolous, carefree, resilient, perfectly syncopated to the beat. Glitter Gel Pen lyrics don’t care if you don’t take them seriously because they don’t take themselves seriously. Glitter Gel Pen Lyrics are the drunk girl at the party telling you you look like an angel in the bathroom. It’s what we need every now and then in these fraught times we live in.
Example: “My ex-husband brought his new girlfriend; she’s like ‘oh my god’ but i’m just gonna shake and to that guy over there with that good hair won’t you come baby we can shake, shake, shake.’
Why did I create these categories, you ask? Since I love doing this, we are lucky enough to call a job. Writing songs is my life’s work and my hobby and my never-ending thrill. I am touched that you, my colleagues, have decided to honor me in this way for work that I would still be doing if I had never been recognized for it.
Lately I’ve been on a joyride down memory lane. I re-recorded my first six albums. As I go through the process of painstakingly recreating every element from my past and revisiting songs I wrote when I was 13, 14, and 15, that path leads me straight to music row. How my mom would pick me up from school and take me to my co-writing sessions with dozens of writers (and some of you are in this room tonight) who decided 15 years ago to give me their time, their wisdom, their faith before anyone thought writing with me was a productive afternoon. I will never forget you, each of you.
Part of my re-recording process involved adding songs that never made the original albums, but songs I hated leaving behind. I went back and recorded some for my version of my albums. fearless, my version, came out last year and while I was figuring out songs for it I came across one I wrote with the Warren brothers when I was 14. I decided to record it as a duet with the brilliant Keith Urban. When I called the Warrens to tell them I was cutting our song 17 years after we wrote it, I’ll never forget the first thing they said. “Well, I think this is the longest hold we’ve ever had.”
In 2011, just over a decade ago, my trusted co-worker and confidant Liz Rose came to my apartment and I showed her a song I was working on. I was going through a rough time (like the natural state of being 21) and had written verse after verse after verse, a song that was too long to put on an album. He clocked in at about 10 minutes. We started editing, cropping, cutting out large sections until it was a reasonable 5 minutes and 30 seconds. It was called “Too Good”. Last year when I re-recorded my 2012 album Red, I’ve added this 10-minute version with the original verses and extra bridges. When we wrote it, I never imagined that that song would resurface ten years later or that I’d be playing it for you tonight.
But a song can defy logic or time. A good song takes you to your true feelings and translates those feelings for you. A good song stays with you, even when people or feelings don’t. Writing songs is a calling and if you can call it your career, you are very lucky. You should be thankful for it every day, and all the people who thought your words were worth listening to. This city is the school that taught me that.
To be honored by you means more than any genre of my lyrics could ever say.