Music's staying power is a function of how timeless the lyrics

When Gary Wright proclaimed, “Music’s staying power is a function of how timeless the lyrics, song and production are,” he did not speak only of the art of sound, but of the eternal nature of beauty itself. In this truth, we see that music is not bound to the hour of its creation, nor to the fleeting winds of fashion, but to the depth of its spirit. A song that is timeless is like a flame that never dies, burning across generations, carried from heart to heart like an immortal torch. What endures is not what dazzles for a moment, but what resonates with the eternal longing of the human soul.

The ancients knew this well. The lyres of Greece and the chants of the Hebrews, though centuries old, still carry power. Their words and melodies were not fashioned for the hour but for eternity. In Wright’s words we are reminded that for art to endure, its lyrics must speak to the truths of human life—love, sorrow, courage, faith. The song itself must bear a melody that strikes not only the ear but the heart. And the production, the craft that frames it, must be clean and strong, like pillars that hold up a temple across the centuries.

Consider the tale of Ludwig van Beethoven. In an age long before the microphone or electric guitar, he poured forth symphonies that are still performed in every great hall of the world. Why? Because his music was not of the hour, but of the ages. Though he suffered deafness, though he battled despair, the melodies he wrote still thunder and whisper with the voice of eternity. In him we see the living proof of Wright’s teaching: that art born of truth and wrought with mastery will outlast empires.

Even in the modern world, this truth shines. Think of The Beatles. Decades after their first songs filled the airwaves, their records still sell, their lyrics are still quoted, their sound still awakens youth and memory alike. Why? Because they built their songs on themes that do not decay—hope, love, change, imagination. Their production was ahead of its time, yet rooted in musical craft. This is the alchemy of staying power: to weave the present with the eternal.

Wright’s insight is not only about music, but about all human creation. What is timeless in architecture, in poetry, in leadership, in life, is that which rises above mere fashion and touches the unchanging truths of existence. A building that endures is not one built for novelty, but one grounded in proportion and strength. A leader remembered through the centuries is not the one who courted applause, but the one who served justice, mercy, and truth. So too with the songs of men: the noise of the age passes quickly, but the voice of the soul echoes forever.

Therefore, let us learn: when we create, let us create with eternity in mind. Whether it be a song, a poem, a word of encouragement, or a deed of kindness—ask not how it will be received today, but how it will endure tomorrow. Seek timelessness, not trend. Ask whether your words can speak to the unborn, whether your actions can shine when memory of your face is long gone.

The practical path is clear. When you speak, choose words that are honest and true, for lies will perish but truth will endure. When you labor, give it the care of a craftsman, for hurried work will crumble but careful work will stand. When you sing or write or dream, do so not only for your generation but for the generations yet to come. In this way, your life itself becomes like a song of staying power—one whose melody is never lost.

Thus, Gary Wright’s wisdom becomes a lamp for us: music’s staying power is not in the glamour of the moment, but in the marriage of lyrics, song, and production with the eternal. If we would live well, let us shape our lives the same way—not as passing noise, but as timeless music. Then, like a hymn rising through centuries, our deeds and our spirit shall never fade.