I HATE THE NIGHT

“I Hate the Night” is one of my earliest songs. I had wanted to write about my father after hearing Pink’s Family Portrait. Her song moved me to tears, and it made me wonder whether I could turn part of my own childhood into a song.

My father was born into a very wealthy family in Singapore and grew up surrounded by servants. He later became an alcoholic. I never truly understood why but I remember how frightened I was when he came home late and all hell would break loose.

Trying to fit those memories into a three-and-a-half-minute long song was incredibly difficult. There was too much to say. I struggled with whether to write about the events in the past tense or make them feel as though they were happening in the present.

Why would anyone care?

I also kept asking myself: Why would anyone care about my story? What would listeners feel? Could the song ever belong in a film or television scene, or would it sound like a private therapy session set to music?

When I submitted an earlier version to my songwriting mentor, I felt somewhat ashamed afterwards. I wondered whether I had revealed too much and I retracted from the group for a good 5 months. I later learned to be stronger.

As a songwriter, you can feel vulnerable. Whatever comes out in your writing feels as though it has come straight out of your mouth. So when someone gives feedback, it is very easy to feel that they are judging you rather than simply responding to the song.

I learned that you have to toughen up if you want to grow. You cannot remain a closet writer, keeping everything safely to yourself. You learn by sharing your work, listening to constructive criticism and trying again. You also have to recognize that the awkward feelings inside you are your own. You cannot blame the person offering honest feedback simply because it made you feel exposed. That is part of learning how to become both a stronger songwriter and a stronger person.

Eventually, I stripped the song back and allowed one simple line to carry its emotional centre and finished this track with the title:

I hate the night.

Emotional juxtaposition

Sad lyrics do not always need sad music. Placing painful words over an upbeat, feel-good production creates an emotional contrast: the music invites you to move, while the lyrics reveal what is happening underneath. That tension can make a song feel more layered and memorable. It may even reflect how people survive difficult experiences—we can carry sadness and still dance, create and keep moving.

Use Past or Present Tense?

If you are writing a song about something that happened years ago, you do not have to tell the entire story in the past tense. Try writing it in the present tense, as though it is happening right now.

This is known as the narrative present. It can bring the listener directly into the scene, allowing them to experience the waiting, uncertainty or emotion alongside the person in the song. Instead of explaining what happened from a distance, you let the listener enter the moment.

There is nothing strange about moving between past and present if the change has a purpose. You can experiment with both versions, play them back and listen carefully. Does the tense sound natural?

AI Slop Accusation

Creativity has helped me throughout my life. I have drawn, painted, written children’s stories, created cartoons and, eventually, written songs. Those creative impulses gave my restlessness somewhere to go.

Perhaps that is why I find it upsetting when AI-assisted music is dismissed as “AI slop.” For many people, the creative process is not about pressing a button and pretending to be a musician. It may be a way of releasing something they have carried silently for years.

However, having access to AI does not remove the need for craft. I would encourage anyone using these tools to learn how to write stronger lyrics and better songs.

Where Did Music Begin for You?

Where did music begin for you? Perhaps it was a song your parents always played, something you sang at school, or someone singing while they worked.

For me, I remember the rain pelting through our zinc roof and landing in the bucket we put underneath it. The rhythm it made was so comforting. Then, after the tropical rain, I would wake up the next morning to this incredibly loud chorus of frogs, all singing together in perfect unison. Today, I can still remember the sound vividly in my head.

Sometimes, discovering where your connection to music began can give your songwriting journey a deeper sense of purpose.