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As long as Nigel Blackwell is releasing music, there are good lyrics being written.

"They Didn't Read Books"

1968 came too early for some, all the trendies feeling empowered
1976 was a passage of rites, but we blossomed, we weren’t deflowered
1984? Yeah, there were a few good people who wouldn’t drown in a Pina Colada sea
1997? “Great, good fantastic Tony”, and Eurovision victory

But was it something he said?
Things only got better in the “funky” people carrier that was serenading you in the head

They told the fortysomethings they’d be wild and free again
How many years of hurt had passed since way back then?
But how does Champagne Charlie spark the revival
Of what they used to know and what used to be vital?

Matt LeBlanc killed the greasy spoon café
Vernon Kaye, our poet laureate
But don’t go around blaming us
We were told never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
Never, never, never, never, never, never, to read books
Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
Never, never, never, never, never, never to read books

Remember that song playing on the radio, “best footy anthem in the world ever”
It’ll take you to heaven in a pint of Bombardier, but isn’t someone else saying “Gotcha?”
We’ll never mind, we’ll come straight from behind like we did against the Armada
But you’ll never win this war like your forefathers did, there ain’t no Nelson or Magna Carta

But was it something that night?
Three Lions on a shirt rubs me well into the dirt and flirt with ideas we’re always right
(And would Churchill ever appear in a pizza ad?)

Next year Teflon man makes someone’s dreams come true in Tickertape
Doesn’t it remind you slightly of something from the pages of “Sugar Ape?”
But hey, they were sure this bloke had swing and style to employ
Like a kid let loose in a sweet shop who’s free to play with all these new toys

But what if you’re one of the boys
Who’s got the apparatus but can’t do the experiment because your soul’s been long-term unemployed?

And now the fortysomethings are fainting on the telephone
Someone you never knew met their end on the River Seine
The Palace walls are paved with old punks and crocodile tears
Show your real face – this country just makes you the sad Beefeaters
Of this shiny new country you fear
This shiny new country you fear

We were told never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
(Gallaghers, charmingly shameless)
Never, never, never, never, never, never, to read books
(Damon, sharp wit tourist)
Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
(Jarvis, thanks – you said no to the la-de-dah who wanted to slum it)
Never, never, never, never, never, never to read books
(‘Boyfriend’ by Ashlee Simpson? Once had Justine Frischmann. Suffered so much for her pop art)

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
(50,000 kids can’t hold pencils – are you blameless?)
Never, never, never, never, never, never, to read books
(Shamed Charleroi vomit)
Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to read books
(Now we all dress like scumfucks to be sexy and ironic)
Never, never, never, never, never, never to read books
(She frowns and views a yuppie flat that killed the Hacienda… aah!)

Their cupboard contained seven types of pasta
FIFA Road to World Cup and Encarta
Winner Tacos, Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food
A new 4x4 not driven north of Watford
Girl power lime green T-shirts on your daughter
But her “cute” pencil case said “Nutty Tart”, yeah
Five years later, she’s the “Kappa Slapper”
Wife’s run out of ideas, don’t want to know her
Son’s failing exams but he don’t care
Gotta crash ‘n’ burn when you’re going nowhere
Wearing clothes, oh-so-chic misspelt F-words
And now David Hasselhoff’s his Geoff Hurst
Got digital TV, the latest rom-com
Hugh and Julia in their London toytown
Hamza, Izzadeen? Just turn the volume down
And Daddy looked for a ‘niche career’
Maybe a super freelance interweb designer
But everyone else line danced or went to ‘gastropubs’
Smalltown boys made good don’t come from yoga clubs
Mum logged into Friends Reunited
“Just catching up, a quick chat, don’t get too excited”
And son’s home unexpectedly early
Hears her scream “I wish my husband was this dirty”
Opens the door, a casual married man
Who takes away the pain of her oppression
Of a country and a town that lost its passion
Getting bum-faced, clenching its fist with no direction
Reminds me of a few decades way back when
A hot hot heatwave to break all the tension
When the call centres closed, no explanation
Getting beat up, blown up at the station

You can always come back to it later

Can you really come back to it later?

-truncated because it really does go on forever-

see also: Neil Pennycook (Meursault) and Scott Hutchison (Frightened Rabbit)

Joanna Newsom (massively underrated lyricist due to voice/harp distractions. Have one on Me was a tour-de-force).

Jeffrey Lewis (still great, check out "Krongu Green Slime" from a couple of years back - a marketing-eye-view on evolution of life on Earth.)

Neil Hannon (but I am massively biased, really liked the lyrics to "When a Man Cries", he tends to write the kinds of songs no-one else writes anymore).

A guess it's hard to say why though, a lot to do with delivery too i'd imagine, and it's usually in the pavement tradition.

here's his thoughts on the matter (maybe)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smgCDZXBVWI

Before I spoke in riddles, I was worried someone would hear me
Now I know that no one really listens so I will just speak clearly
I don't have private thoughts, just a lyrical worksheet
For mangling my observations on the meter and the beat
And in the process of it, on every line
Sooner or later I'll have to change the meaning to fit the rhyme

But back in the skylight all of the stars
Turn into sound and then they shout down at me
Though they are far away, they shout so loudly
I think I may know what they're saying to me
It's on the tip of my ear; it's almost palpable!
I have to listen closely and get my mind around it!
And when I understand it I'll just transcribe it
This time when I write it down I'll do it faithfully
I won't try to rhyme it

others that spring to mind: Owen Ashworth (casiotone ftpa),David Thomas Broughton, David Bazan (Pedro the Lion), Yoni Wolf (Why?), West Thorston(a whisper in the noise), Nick Huggins, jim Putnam (radar bros)

rick ross
gucci mane
freddie gibbs

*ducks*

Wild Beasts, The Pheromoans, Dels, Everything Everything, Twilight Sad, Slim Twig.

Future of the Left, Mountain Goats and of Montreal are still on top form, too.

Gareth Campesinos

Because too often, "good lyrics" are snobbishly viewed as the most poetic, wordy and complex examples (and much of these are very good). But you can read a book/poem if you want that, good lyrics just have to fit the feel of the music well with out moving into cliche. As such, there are loads around. One lyricist I particularly like is Wayne Coyne.

is pretty good.

Laura Marling
Matt Berninger

or connan mockasin or sutin

fantastic, but can understand why not everyone would connect with them as fanboyishly as I do:

Concentrate:
"But they don't know my dad
He's this town through and through
Old school 50-something balding racist
and so his mates are too..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zOyhxxfKtE

Wouldn't Women Be Sweet:
"I met you in a bar in 2003
We started going Out immediately
I thought it would be fun, I thought it would be easy
Didn't realise you were a maniac..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoOemOloACU

and basically the whole of second album Teenage Blood
http://open.spotify.com/album/2FbV5wc2T51cIGZta9rOBF

The devil and John Berryman
Took a walk together.
They ended up on Washington
Talking to the river.
He said 'I've surrounded myself with doctors
And deep thinkers.
But big heads with soft bodies
Make for lousy lovers'
There was that night that we thought John Berryman could fly.
But he didn't
So he died.
She said 'You're pretty good with words
But words won't save your life'
And they didn't.
So he died.

He was drunk and exhausted but he was critically acclaimed and respected.
He loved the Golden Gophers but he hated all the drawn out winters.
He likes the warm feeling but he's tired of all the dehydration
Most nights were kind of fuzzy
But that last night he had total retention.

These Twin Cities kisses
Sound like clicks and hisses.
We all tumbled down and
Drowned in the Mississippi River.

for sure.

by The Hold Steady.

The former in particular has some fantastic stuff on it. The albums before and after these two albums... not so much.

199x

In a terraced house in Rubery haunts
The ghost of something awful
A crushing dark and normal
Like the night we made yr parents divorce
Days spent playing rebels
Pushing our own funerals forwards, forwards

I almost fucked you on the couch in the lounge
Teenagers are useless
Cause a brittle Christmas
And the glass shards sparkle sharp in the snow
Outside for the romance
Inside for the lust and I want you, want you
(Want you, want you)
I want you, want you
(Want you, want you)

Listen to the Seashells They Know Kverything

Summer didn't stick around
to see the ship it launched go down
Summer didn't stick around
to see the ship it launched go down
without a trace

Time waits for no one
Time stands still for no one
i was only 19
caught in a dream
telling anyone who listened
i got something
That no one else has
that no one else can see but me

Winter wouldn't go away
The Hudson River a skating rink
Winter hung around for centuries
the cold was creeping from within our bones
Occupied our souls

Time waits for no one
Time stands still for no one
i was only 19
caught in a dream
telling anyone who listened
i got something
That no one else has
that no one else can see but me

That no one else has
that no one else believes
That no one else can see

Winter in my bones
the old enemy
Listen to seashells
they know everything
Bloodlines splintering
hurricanes coming
Dream of emptiness
through the centuries
a white noise frenzy
Watch the summer rain
dissapear again
I was only nineteen
caught in a dream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STUlKYazqeQ (link correct just the old title)

Sorry.

Preaching To The Conversed:

You look mean in green and in red you're so pleasin'
But they're so last season
And Alexa said it would be suicide
You may as well just commit suicide
Guaranteed haute corpse-ture

Don't get shirty, I'm only teasin'
But that shirt is tantamount to fashion treason
Apparently
You must approach fashion transparently
Am I up to speed? I'm not sure...

The high street is your cote d'or
Topman your independent record store
You have no idea that Sonic Youth is a band
You think The Ramones is a clothing brand

Dress for success and then jostle for position
Yeah I look a mess but I'm a struggling musician
You all must look the same and thus the same you must all listen
Preaching to the Conversed, my impossible mission

All your friends say vote green, but aren't the reds the best?
While your parents contest
The red ones are in disarray
You'll probably vote blue anyway
That's your favourite colour

Don't get angry I'm only joking
But what's the point in voting
When you don't know what you're voting for?
Does no-one read the paper any more?
Read the paper?!? What could be duller?

Obama is your new Che Guevara
Scouting For Girls are your new Nirvana
You've written FREE TIBET on the back of your hand
But you think that Tibet is a part of Iran
You think the Dalai Lama is the King of Japan

Yes, I confess, that I'm no great politician
But at least I possess a process approaching cognition
You all must think the same and thus the same you must all listen
Preaching to the Conversed, my impossible mission

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and I feel like I'm beaten
So take me for a Big Mac so I can taste the defeat
And now we are the same and the same we will listen
Preaching to the Conversed, my impossible mission

For fuck's sake.

Or is he from too long ago now?

Personally, I couldn't care less about lyrics, but I remember critics totally jizzing themselves over arctic monkeys lyrics.

And then lots of hip hop folk like Aesop Rock

Low is one of the better bands in this matter.

observe:

left my lair
to the wind and the sand
with blood on my lips
and silver in hand
and i'm weary and stumbling
in the desert heat
where raindrops
they burn up
before they reach your cheek

and if you see my love
tell her i'm done

simple lyrics or complex lyrics?

Pretty much every review of the album (which I just released JAG! JAG!) mentions the lyrics being rather good.

here's something actually inventive

hop out my bed turn my swag
scrambled eggs,filet mignon
2 g's blown just for my cologne
money never limited,so icy with my benefits
my driveway need a passport,all my cars are immigrants
ech!its so sickening,get it?its history you're witnessing
i had her cos she quit me,now im single wanna get with me?
sticky game,they stick to me,if you see your chick with gucci
think before confronting,ruling,it aint my fault your bitch is choosing
430's still blowing purpy,08 verty rollin dirty
wardrobe clean like dish detergent,got your girl picking purses
say she lonley,gucci ONLY,one wish to meet me in person
when she met me,hugged my neck,woah check!
and told me she loved my verses

Too bad he is dead now :(

He has a really awesome way of phrasing things, and the last album was such an ambitious concept, beautifully realised.

does it make me wanna move my ass? if not, send it to the library.

i mean his last two albums were dreadful sure, but his S/T should count as last few years i think.

've felt uncomfortable since the day that I was born
Since the day I glimpsed the black abyss in your eyes
There's no way you could make all of this shit up on your own
It could only come from the mastermind with eyes

I can't believe that I've considered taking my own life
Cos I believed the lies about me were the truth
It will be magic to watch your transformation when you realise that you've been had
It's enough to make a guy like me feel sad

Cos you tell me that
Jesus
He hates fruit loops, son,
We told you that when you were young
Or pretty much anything you want him to
Like sitcoms, pedophiles and kangaroos
Morons who cut and line
Three-bean salad and parking fines
And when we win this war on society
I hope your blind eyes will be opened and you'll see

The arrogance it takes to walk around in the world the way you do
It turns my brain to jelly every time
The rage and fear I'm feeling have begun to make me sick
And I think that I might be about to commit a crime

And you tell me that
Jesus
He hates homos son
We told you that when you were young
Or pretty much anything you want him to
Like coco puffs, red cars and jews
Postal clerks who waste your time
Weight loss shakes, and the local news
And when we win the war on society
I hope your blind eyes will be opened and you'll see

Cos Jesus,
He hates faggots, son
We told you that when you were young
Or pretty much anyone you want him to
Like niggers, spicks, redskins and kikes
Men who cannot tame their wives
Weaklings, cowards, and bald dikes,
And when we win the war on society
I hope your blind eyes will be opened and you'll see

i'd say is one of the most inventive and talented lyricists out there these days
obviously his delivery and the production kinda undermine him but it really comes across when reading along (which i know makes it kinda clinical/less 'enjoyable')
but in terms of hip hop and just modern music in general he's pretty original.

Especially on Kaputt. Haven't been as astounded by an album lyrically in years and years. Almost Dylan-esque slightly intangible yet vivid imagery. Amazing.

Also Sufjan Stevens is an obvious one. There haven't been any truly great (and at least slightly subtle) British lyricists for quite a while...

and Alex Turner

Jeff Tweedy, Dan Bejar and Joanna Newsom, add Kristin Hersh to the list.