07/12/2026
# Inside The Song: Sometimes Two Guitars Are Better Than One
Last Friday, my new friend from the local music scene, Dave, stopped by the studio because he wanted a little help with a few songs he'd been working on.
I was genuinely flattered when Dave asked me to help with his songs.
My very next thought was, *"I hope I don't let him down."*
I've noticed that's how confidence works. It doesn't walk through the door when you need it.
It's one thing to write your own song from scratch. You start with your own idea, your own story, your own melody. You know where you're trying to go, even if you occasionally take a few wrong turns and end up somewhere completely unexpected.
It's another thing entirely to jump into someone else's song halfway through the journey. Now you're trying to understand what they hear in their head, figure out what they're trying to say, and hopefully contribute something useful without accidentally taking their song apart and leaving the pieces scattered across the floor.
That's a little more intimidating.
The main song we worked on was inspired by Lynyrd Skynyrd's **"Three Steps,"** but Dave was taking a different approach—telling the story from the perspective of the guy who isn't exactly thrilled about someone flirting with his girl.
I thought that was a clever twist.
Dave brought his lyrics. He brought his guitar. I supplied another guitar, a studio, and the hope that between the two of us we could improve the song without accidentally making it worse.
A modest goal.
We spread his lyric sheets across the table and got to work. We'd read a line. Change a word. Try a different rhyme. Pick up the guitars. Try a few chords. Stop. Look at each other. Try a few more chords.
This is the part of songwriting that nobody tells you about. From the outside, it looks like two musicians creating something. From the inside, it often looks like two people staring at a piece of paper asking, "Do you think that word knows what it's doing?"
We tried different ideas, explored a few musical directions, and wandered down a few side roads trying to find what fit the song. Which, if you think about it, is pretty much how songwriting works.
You start with a destination. Then you take three wrong turns. Then you decide the scenic route was better anyway. As we worked through his songs, the day naturally drifted. We spent time talking about the music we love, the songs we've written, and the different paths that brought us both here.
We swapped stories about our musical lives, the people who influenced us, and the experiences that shaped the way we approach songwriting.
Somewhere along the way, it became less of a songwriting session and more of two musicians getting to know each other better.
By the end of the afternoon, we had strengthened some lyrics, explored some musical directions, and found some new possibilities for his songs.
But the funny thing is... That wasn't really what took up most of the afternoon. Yes, we worked on the songs. But we also talked. A lot.
And honestly, that's one of the things I love about music. A song might be the reason two people sit down together... ...but it isn't always the reason they stay.
Sometimes the best part of making music is everything that happens when you're not actually making music.
The stories. The laughs. The moments where you realize you're not just working on a song. You're making a friend.
I'm beginning to think that's what makes this whole songwriting adventure worthwhile.
The songs are wonderful. But the people you meet because of them might be the best part.
Warm regards,
Mike DeSorda
