If you read the articles I write for this website, or if you’re going to start reading these articles religiously after being blown away by the inescapable genius (and occasional delusions of grandeur) contained here within, then it’s going to become pretty apparent to you that I love Ed Sheeran. It’s just a fact.

I owned his first album before he was cool (#hipsterpoints #humblebrag #noonecaresdude). I’ve seen him in concert twice, and I can think of, like, one other concert I’ve gone to in my life (and if we’re being honest, I’m pretty sure that was a Billy Ray Cyrus concert at the local fair when I was four years old). His seminal masterpiece “Thinking Out Loud” was the first dance song at my wedding, even though it was cliché by then; it was just too good NOT to play.

He’s perhaps the greatest living musician (don’t @ me), yet even he falls victim to the “oh, he’s been super popular for a long time so I’m going to pretend I’m too good to like him” mentality so many fans have. It’s just what we humans do.

But, however you feel about Ed (you should love him, btw) “Castle on the Hill” is a great song, and more importantly, a great lesson in songwriting.

I touched on this a little bit in my review of The Chainsmokers’ “Closer”, but what really makes “Castle on the Hill” special (besides its infectious melody and irreproachable vocals) is that it’s “Castle on THE Hill,” not “Castle on A Hill.”

And what I mean by that needlessly cryptic explanation is that the song has details; it’s not about some abstract “Castle on a Hill,” it’s about a specific Castle in a specific place, and this concrete grounding of the song is always there. Look at the opening verse:

When I was six years old, I broke my leg
I was running from my brother and his friends
And I tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down
I was younger then. Take me back to when…

Nope, that’s not enough; it doesn’t capture how pervasive this is in the song. Take a look at the second verse:

Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes
Running from the law through the backfields and getting drunk with my friends
Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don’t reckon that I did that right

NOPE. Still not enough. On to the chorus! (It’s the last one, I promise.)

I’m on my way
Driving at ninety down those country lanes
Singing to “Tiny Dancer”
And I miss the way you make me feel

And it’s real
When we watched the sunset, over the castle on the hill.

See what I’m talking about? Yes? No? It’s stupid to be asking an unresponsive and invisible reader questions?

What I’m getting at is that this is about one life, and that’s what we as an audience connect to.

This isn’t about our life. Heck, it might even not really be about Ed’s life. But it’s not going on about “Childhood was great, everyone loves nostalgia, wasn’t it great to be young?” It’s talking about a kid breaking his leg trying to keep up with an older brother and his friends, about smelling summer grass, about sneaking awful cigarettes, about making bad decisions, and about messing up.

You’ll notice that in the chorus, Ed talks about singing “Tiny Dancer.” It may be a tiny detail, but it’s what makes this song nostalgic. It would have been easy to make the line something like “singing out the open window.” Easier, probably.



But it’s these details that make the song sound like it’s about a life, and it’s the fact that it’s about a life that makes the audience care and feel that sweeping nostalgia.

So when you’re writing a song, remember the details.

Real lives have details, and any audience will care about a real life a lot more than a generic fake one, even if technically it applies to more people by being vague.

This is not the last article I’ll write about Ed, and it’s certainly not the last article I’m going to write about this concept.

It’s that important.

Always write about THE castle, on THE hill.