Know Your Chords: The Major Chord
Editor’s Note: In this series the author will examine the structure of chords, the primary musical building block of popular songwriting. He’ll examine their history, typical usage, contextual deployment and, if necessary, how to stop them.
The major chord is the first type to be taught to music students learning about chord theory for the first time. It is, at the risk of using the vile phraseology of eugenics, the only truly unsullied chord in the musical system.
Structurally the major chord consists of the bottom or “root” note, the next major third, and the final perfect fifth. Forget about the root and the fifth for the time being; the driver is the third. That’s the determining factor in making a major chord. If the third is unchanged from its place on the major scale, then it makes a major chord. If it’s flattened, then it becomes a minor chord which, believe you me, we’ll cover later.
Commonly referred to as the “happy chord,” the major chord connotes a sense of optimism and freedom from most anxieties. An untouched, non-inverted major chord is a miniature pronouncement of triumph, however fleeting or permanent, over disintegration and dejection. Its sunny disposition is not to be trifled with.
A good example of the major chord in practice is the Beatles’ “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.” Every chord in this song is a major chord, except for a quick minor chord that accompanies the phrase “braaa!” in the chorus and a brief coda about ten seconds before the end of the song:
Notice how uplifting the existence of Desmond and Molly and their children is? That’s because of the major chords, emphasizing their joyful complacency in the face of working class disenfranchisement and stiffening marketplace regulations. What’s more, all the chords in the song (even the quick minor) occur naturally in the major scale of the song’s key, B-flat, so not only is their existence happy, it’s uncomplicated as well.*
Even if the chords that surround a major chord are minor or diminished, its momentary arrival indicates a recognition of joviality, regardless of whether the purveyor has actually experienced joy or merely mused about it. As that most accessible, elementary chord shape, it conveys a sense that, should all properties and conditions favorably align, an emotional and personal ideal will result.
If it’s a stable and persistent sense of optimal well-being that you want, the major chord’s the one for you.
Indeed.
I’m beginning to have doubts about the major chord.
I mean, I don’t mean to project anything here, but, if we’re speaking frankly, I’m starting to think I may have been lured into a false sense of security by the major chord. I get the distinct idea that there’s another force behind the curtain with this motherfucker.
It’s a confidence game. Isn’t it? You’re walking out of the bus station, minding your own, and this guy in an immaculately pressed white suit—I mean stark, raving ivory here, bleach on bleach—approaches you and says, “Hey. You look like a gentlemen of the world. You look pretty savvy to me. You know a good deal when you see one, right?”
Flattery. That’s the first sign, right there. You should see it happening, but you don’t. But too late, he’s disrupted your normal train of thought, inserted himself into what should been a routine and unremarkable execution of your affairs, but the jolt of this interruption disarms you, so you say, “Yes, I do.” He says, “Of course you do. I had you marked the minute you walked off the bus. Point of origin was Tulsa, right?” It was actually Denver, but again, he’s bedazzled you into believing anything, so you say, “Yeah, Tulsa sounds good.”
I’ll spare you the nuts and bolts, but let’s just say this guy has a wide assortment of plastic watches, inspirational pillow covers, balm of Gilead and life insurance policies hidden in his coat, and by the end of your interaction with him you’ve bought all of them. You’ve also agreed to drive by this flophouse on La Cienega with no address to check out a Dodge Challenger on concrete keds in the front yard. You say you won’t make any promises, the guy in the white suit says, “Of course, of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” but in the back of your mind you know you’ve already bought it sight unseen, and you’re pretty ready to sign over your life to this guy.
That’s what the major chord does. You don’t play a major chord, it plays you. Good luck getting that Dodge home.
Jesus. How long has this been happening? Sesame Street? Those winsome little aires hawking false pretense under the guise of phonetics and basic math? Good God, you’ll even use little kids to pull off this con, won’t you? Major chord, you’re a rank bastard!
Well, it’s too late now. Look, use the major chord all you want. But to me it won’t mean anything unless it’s immediately followed by a blues 7th chord or an escaped inmate bearing a hatchet. You know what the major chord needs? An ankle bracelet. Constant monitoring, preferably by an independent entity, some hacker with no known allegiances and a grudge.
I’m embarrassed and a little ashamed that it’s come to this. More to the point, that we’ve allowed it to come to this.
I need a shower.
_______
* I should note that not all songs composed exclusively with major chords are necessarily happy. Some murder ballads—the first that springs to mind is “Knoxville Girl”—use almost all major chords, yet describe tragic, unsavory situations. This may be because the earliest folk traditions had a more rudimentary musical toolbox and therefore had less chords to choose from, and also because Burt Bacharach hadn’t been born yet.
