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When John Mellencamp's "Small Town" was released on his 'Scarecrow" album in September 1985, the song helped
launch a form of heartland rock that celebrated family farms and blue-collar workers.

  Originally written by John Mellencamp (at right) as a valentine to his hometown of Seymour, Ind., "Small Town" reached No. 6 on Billboard's pop chart in
early '86 while "Scarecrow" climbed to No. 2 on the album chart.  In this edition of "The Buzz", Mellencamp looks back on the song's evolution.

John Mellencamp: I was 12 when I first picked up a guitar.  My family lived in Seymour, Ind., and my
older brother, Joe was the star of our high school musicals.  In one show, he had to play some guitar
chords, so my parents bought him a nylon-stringed model.  Once the musical was over, the guitar sat in the
corner of the bedroom we shared.  One day I grabbed it.  My goal was to learn enough chords to play
along with the songs I was listening to on the radio.

  I never had a guitar lesson in my life and I still can't read music.  But I had a good ear and feel for it.  By
1965, I was in a soul band that played at local high schools and colleges

A New Middle Name

  After junior college, i went to New York hoping to get a record deal or to be admitted to the Art Students
League to study painting.  After dropping off a demo tape at Main Man, the management agency signed
me and cut a deal with MCA Records.  They also insisted I use "Couger" as my middle name.  I hated that.

  I had no songwriting skills, so my first few albums were awful.  They featured mostly cover songs and
early originals.  Critics didn't like me, so I knew that to make it, I'd have to write songs and convince radio to play them.  I began carrying a pad around
and jotting down lyrics for songs I was working on.  By 1984, I had written and recorded quite a few top 10 hits, including "Jack & Diane," "Hurts So
Good," "Crumblin Down" and "Pink Houses."
  At the time, my label, Mecury/Riva, wanted an album from me every 18 months.  In between I was on tour, so I was rarely home.  But one day in '84
when I was home in Bloomington, Ind., Vicky, my wife then, called me down to our basement laundry room.  When I got there, a big box was on our
clothes-folding counter.  I'm the worst speller in the world, so Vicky had ordered an electric typewriter with a built-in spell check system.  I tried to make
sense of the owner's manual, but I couldn't figure it out.  I'd put a sheet of paper in and start typing, but the words I misspelled weren't being corrected.

  I said to myself, "Well I guess I'm just a stupid hillbilly.  What do I know?  I was born in a small town."  After a few more minutes with the typewriter, I
began to realize it didn't automatically correct misspelled words.  It has a dictionary on a computer chip that identified words you misspelled and beeped
to alert you to fix them.

A Song Is Born

  I had my Gibson Dove, so I put the guitar strap around my neck and started playing and typing lyrics, "Well I was born in a small town/And I live in a
small town."  But as I typed my lyrics fast, the machine let off beeps to flag spelling errors, "All my friends - beep!-are so-beep!-small town/My parents -
beep!-live in the same small-beep!-town."  Upstairs I could hear Vicky and my Aunt Tootes, who was also our nanny, dying of laughter over the beeps.  
Finally  I yelled out, "Would you guys shut up!"  Once the song started to come, it came fast,  I'd sing some lyrics, type them out and play the music on my
guitar.  Then I'd start at the beginning to sing what I had to inspire additional lines.

  For some time, my friends and I had been talking about how small towns and the people who lived there were getting screwed economically as
America changed.  Soon I realized that "Small Town" was more than a phrase of my own frustration.  It was a song that felt as though Woody Guthrie had
sent it to me from the grave.

  The next step for "Small Town" was to rehearse it with my band.  I had a second house a few minutes outside of Bloomington that operated as an
office.  I had a recording studio and turned the two-car garage to rehearsal space.  In April '85, the band and I went into the garage to arrange "Small
Town."  I sat there like a conductor with the band facing me.  There was no writing our parts.  We had it all in our heads. I just told my drummer, Kenny
Aronoff, what I wanted - pounding beat-and we went to work.

  "Small Town's" opener was already written in my chord progressions.  That was the hook line.  The trick going forward was to keep the song simple
and not over-arrange it.  But we had a problem.  The song was verse-chorus, verse-chorus - it felt too same-samey.  The solution was to add a bridge.  In
the garage, I tool one of the verses, "No I cannot forget where it is that I come from/I cannot forget the people who love me/Yeah, I can be myself here in
this small town/And people let me be just what I want to be"-and rewrote the melody.  This broke up the sameness.

  "Small Town's" arrangement was critical.  I knew there was no way I could walk out on stage and sing and play ti acoustically.  The audience would tune
out.  We also had to arrange the song in a higher key.  Back then, I tended to write songs in lower key and transpose them to a higher key later so I could
belt them out on stage.

  When the arrangement was done, we walked into the studio inside the house to record.  I only sang on the record.  I didn't play.  Larry Crane was on
lead guitar.  We finished the song in just two or three takes.  The only instrument we added later was John Cascella's organ.  For some reason, he wasn't
there when we had recorded.  He came in later that night, and we overdubbed his part.  At first, John kept trying to play complex stuff that didn't work.  
Finally I said, "John, damn it, stop noodling around.  Just go to those big chords."  What he played next was beautiful.  

  Before the single was released in November '85, we needed something for MTV.  In Bloomington and Seymour, we took out ads asking for snapshots
and home movies.  We were flooded with material.

  The video was good, but I always felt it ruined the song.  Songs are meant for dreaming, and the video gave my lyrics a literal context.  The focus was
all on me instead of letting out listeners imagine their own small town experiences.

  I never used that tan typewriter again.  Now I have no idea where it is-probably gathering dust in one of my storage units.

Take a walk down the street, and revisit John Mellencamp's classic hit, "Small Town:"

"Small Town"
Excerpted The New York Times, Dan Levin