The Tune, just like it’s friend, the Rhyme,
Has had its era and its time.
Rodgers, Hart and Hammerstein
Now seem as quaint as Auld Lang Syne.
And big bands that were once the rage,
Are relics of a bygone age.
A booming sound in deep bass clef
Now satisfies the future deaf.
The “melody” that kids applaud
Is eight bars on a single chord;
And juries give ecstatic votes
To songs strung out on single notes —
The words, however subtle, drowned
In thumping, unrelenting sound.
Am I too old, perhaps ungallant,
If I suggest a lack of talent?
Can the young recall or croon
A modern song without a tune?
Could it be composers now
Would write a tune, but don’t know how?