Which song structure should you choose?
I understand that by using the word “should,” it sounds like I’ll be telling you what song structure you must use. I don’t want to do that.
There’s only one rule in songwriting: there are no rules.
So in this post, we’ll go over the different parts of a song you can use, how you can order them, and tips for finding the right structure.
Before we dive into how to structure a song, let’s talk about the parts that make up the song structure.
The basic parts of a song are:
This is self-explanatory — the intro is the introduction to the song. And it’s one of the most important parts.
According to Music Machinery, about 35% of listeners will skip a song within the first 30 seconds and nearly half of listeners skip a song before it’s over. That’s why your intro has to grab the listener’s ear and hold onto it.
Think of the intro as a first impression — a handshake and a hello. First impressions can stick for a long time and make or break a relationship.
Verses give the listener an idea of what the song is about. They should support the main idea (chorus) while also moving the song forward.
If the chorus is king, then the verses are the bearers of the litter.
The pre-chorus (aka the lift) is kind of like a “get ready for it!” before the chorus. It can help build anticipation, either by increasing the volume or rhythm or by pulling back and creating tension with silence. It, like the chorus, may repeat the same melody or lyrics, often ending with an unresolved melody.
The chorus should convey the main idea of the song with the most memorable melody of the song. It usually repeats itself melodically, musically, and/or lyrically — this method is sometimes called the hook, which some people use synonymously with chorus.
The chorus is what the listener is waiting for — it should be the best part of the song. If you don’t get the listener by the chorus, then you don’t get the listener at all.
A bridge helps break up the repetitiveness of a song and add an element of surprise. It should present a new angle to the main song idea. It’s kind of like a rogue verse with different chords, rhythm, and melody.
A break is usually an instrumental break that allows for some breathing room. It can also help build anticipation and transition to a completely new part of the song or into another song.
Like the intro, an outro is self-explanatory — it’s the end of the song. It closes the song out, whether it’s with an instrumental part, a tag, or a brand new part.
Now we can talk about putting these parts together to structure a song. Writing a song is like digging for dinosaur bones — you find a bone, one after the other, and assemble them together to make a fossil.
So we’re going to look at the most common song structures in modern music.
Keep in mind that the order in which the different parts appear in the structure can vary. For example, you can have a Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus structure but have the order be Verse-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus. But it still has all of the elements for that structure (Verse, Chorus, and Bridge).
This is probably the most commonly used structure today, especially in pop music. If you were to listen to the top 10 songs on the Billboard Top 100, most or all of them would have a VCVC structure or its close cousin, Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus.
So if you’re looking to become a Professional Songwriter, get comfortable writing in this structure.
Examples of songs with a Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus structure:
Many popular songs use a Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus structure. The bridge helps add surprise or variance to the repetitiveness of the rest of the song. It can also add a new angle to the theme or lyrics of the song while still supporting the main idea.
Examples of songs with a Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus structure:
You can seriously change the feel of a song by adding a pre-chorus. It adds a little epicness in the middle of the song, right before the payoff. The pre-chorus — thematically and musically — should hint at what’s coming in the chorus. In that way, it builds the tension right before the release.
You can use this structure with or without a bridge. If you do include a bridge, it should be on the shorter side, as should the pre-chorus.
Examples of songs with a Verse-Pre Chorus-Chorus-Verse-Pre Chorus-Chorus structure:
This structure is less common, but still prevalent in music. And if you normally write Verse-Chorus songs, you should try the Verse-Verse-Bridge-Verse structure.
Instead of having a chorus, each verse usually ends with something called a refrain. You could also call this a hook. This is basically one or two lines that repeat at the end of each verse — it has the same melody and lyrics or lyrical structure with minor adjustments for each refrain. Most of the time, the title comes from the lyrics of the refrain.
With this type of structure, you’ll want to make the melody interesting, rather than simple since you’ll be repeating it over and over again.
You can use this structure without a bridge (Verse-Verse-Verse), as Bob Dylan did with “Blowin’ In The Wind.”
Examples of songs with a Verse-Verse-Bridge-Verse structure:
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So now that we’ve covered the different parts of songs and how you can arrange those parts, how do you decide? Which one of these structures will work best?
Well, that’s subjective of course.
It comes down to just trying the different structures and seeing which one fits. But here are some tips for finding the right structure for your next song.
The first thing to pay attention to is the feeling of the song. The groove, the emotion, the vibe.
Is it an epic song? Then maybe try a Verse-Chorus structure with a bridge, like Coldplay’s “Fix You.”
Is it a mellow song? Try the Verse-Verse form with an insightful lyric as the refrain.
Do you have a lot of things to say about the main idea? Test out the structure with a verse, pre-chorus, chorus, and bridge.
The point is, note the feel of the song and find a structure that you think fits.
The idea of your song can help you choose the structure, too.
For example, if you’re writing a song with a storyline and characters, you could try the all-verses structure to help move the story along.
Or if you’re writing a break-up song, you could have the main lament in the chorus and then support that in the verses, using angles like “remember how much fun we had together?” and “think of how sad life would be if we’re not together.”
Sometimes, it just comes down to what feels right. What feels the most natural to you? Where do you sense the song going?
If you feel like the song should build, build it into a chorus or epic bridge. If you think the next section of your song should mellow out, drop down into a refrain at end of the verse.
In other words, go with your gut. Your gut is usually right.
Now for a bit of history. Wait, don’t leave. I’ll keep it short and interesting.
There’s another term we didn’t cover: strophic.
The strophic song structure goes way back: back to ancient Greece (doesn’t everything?). A strophe back then was a section of a song where a chorus of singers chanted something together.
And as time went on, more and more Songwriters started using strophes and its definition got looser and wider. Nowadays, strophe is defined as “a rhythmic system composed of two or more lines repeated as a unit,” according to Merriam-Webster.
So a song with a strophic structure, at least today, means a song built out of sections. In other words, “a song with a defined structure.”
Let’s go back to the Greeks. The ancient Greeks also gave us the term “Greek chorus,” where a handful of Actors would sing or chant together in the middle of a live performance. They would make it easy to sing and remember so the audience could join in.
This would eventually become what we know as the chorus.
And remember that term refrain? That came from the French word “refraindre,” which means “to repeat.”
Today, these terms are used to help us organize our songs, convey a clear idea, and move people with our music. We have the Greeks and French to thank for that.
To be honest, you can vary one of the above common song structures however you want. Songwriting, after all, is subjective. Once you know the “rules,” break them.
But to get you started, here are some ways you can make changes to come up with a unique song structure…
This song structure starts with the V – CH structure and just doubles the first verse. So you could think of it as V1 – V2 – CH, or as just an extra long V1.
This song structure basically removes the bridge from the V – V – BR – V structure. It can get kind of repetitive, so it may work better if you use this form for telling a story. That way, the listener is more focused on the lyrics and the story and may feel less repetitive.
This is a wild one. In this structure, the verse acts almost like an intro. Then you go into the hook of the song, followed by a new part (the post-chorus) that almost acts like a bridge.
Blame it on streaming and TikTok: today’s hit songs aren’t built quite like the ones from a few decades ago. In fact, the average #1 single in 2020 was over a minute shorter than the average chart-topper in 1990. Listeners have endless options at their fingertips, and if your song doesn’t grab them fast, they’ll skip to the next. This reality has sparked some clear trends in song structure. Songwriters now tend to trim the fat and make every section count. Intros have gotten much shorter (sometimes just a few beats of a hook) because about one-third of listeners will skip a song within 30 seconds if nothing interesting happens. There’s even an old songwriting motto that still holds true: “Don’t bore us, get to the chorus!”
One noticeable trend is starting songs with the chorus or a signature hook. Jumping straight into a powerful chorus can immediately engage the audience. Pop music in particular has embraced this; think of songs like Ava Max’s “Kings & Queens” that hit you with the chorus right off the bat. By front-loading the catchy part, you’re letting the listener know exactly what the payoff will be. Even if you don’t literally begin with a full chorus, you can tease elements of it. (Professional Songwriters call this a “melodic preview” – hinting at the chorus melody early on so it feels familiar once it arrives.) The goal is to spark that recognition and excitement in the listener’s ear as soon as possible.
Along with shorter songs overall, many modern hits keep their sections concise. It’s now common to use a shorter second verse or even cut the bridge altogether to maintain momentum. For example, you might write an 8-line first verse but only a 4-line second verse before racing back to the chorus. This way, the song doesn’t lose energy or stray too far from the hook. Songwriters are also finding creative ways to avoid listener fatigue by adding new elements. A popular move is inserting a post-chorus – an extra hook after the chorus. It’s usually a simple, repetitive vocal line or instrumental riff that’s ultra-catchy. (Think of the “na-na-na” refrain after a chorus that you end up humming even more than the main hook.) In the words of songwriter Nija Charles, a great post-chorus is “something that’s gonna ring in your head… stickier than the hook sometimes and keeps the momentum” — meaning it gives listeners that extra payoff to stay engaged.
Because listeners acclimate quickly, throwing in a surprise can make a song more memorable. Many songwriters still love using the classic bridge (a contrasting section late in the song) to offer a fresh melody or perspective — something that makes a listener perk up and think, “Whoa, didn’t see that coming!” And some artists today take surprises to the extreme. Hip-hop and pop tracks have experimented with multiple beat switch-ups and non-linear structures to keep us on our toes. Travis Scott’s chart-topping “SICKO MODE”, for instance, is essentially three different song sections stitched together, and Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” throws a curveball by shifting to a slow, bass-heavy outro instead of a final chorus. These unpredictable structures prove that deviating from the verse-chorus norm can captivate listeners — as long as the song still delivers a satisfying payoff.
Why all this focus on quick gratification? One reason is that streaming services reward songs that hold attention. If a listener doesn’t play at least 30 seconds of your track, it might not even count as a “stream” for royalties. And if they skip early, the algorithms take note (which could hurt the song’s chances of landing on popular playlists). No wonder producer Mark Ronson quipped that modern songs “have to be under 3:15” to avoid losing listeners mid-track. More and more hits today barely cross the 2 or 3 minute mark. (Just look at Lil Yachty’s viral song “Poland” — it’s only 83 seconds long!) The idea is to leave audiences wanting more, not less. When a song is short and replay-worthy, listeners are inclined to spin it again and again, giving it extra streams. As a bonus, ending your song with a bang instead of a fade-out can encourage that replay. Modern pop songs almost always end decisively on a final chorus or climax, rather than fading away. That way, the listener gets a sense of closure and might just hit “repeat” to experience it all over again.
All these trends boil down to one thing: writing music with the listener’s experience in mind. It’s about respecting their time and attention by making every second count. So how can you apply this to your own songwriting? Here are a few practical tips for a listener-focused approach:
Ultimately, “listener-focused” songwriting doesn’t mean chasing trends at the expense of your creativity. It’s about being aware of how people consume music today and using that knowledge to present your song in the best light. You still have the freedom to bend or break structure rules — just do it deliberately, with the listener’s journey in mind. If your song feels engaging and authentic from start to finish, you’re on the right track. Embrace the modern quirks of song structure, but always serve the song itself. The coolest part? There are no hard rules, so you can mix these trends with your own style to create something fresh. As long as you connect with your audience and keep them hitting that replay button, you’re doing it right!
Knowing the parts and possible structures of a song are helpful, but this all really boils down to “what does your gut say?” Choosing a structure comes down to your preference, as does your whole songwriting process and musical taste.
These common song structures can really help you write a focused and impactful song.
And the only way to improve your songwriting is to keep doing it.
There’s this girl in the corner and she’s small, really small, and she looks like a boy, and she’s seething with emotion, with rage and love – because she’s alone, because we’re all alone, because our parents didn’t get it. She just found out faster.
Her skin is thinner because her heart is bigger. Her heart pushes against the skin, stretching it, sometimes too much.
She is a bloodletter, this girl. “A bloodletter of emotion,” she says.
I think, given the right or the wrong moment, you are too.
“I’m like a singing fucking banshee,” she says. “My music errs on the histrionic side, but that’s how I feel, you know, I try to just let it seep out because it just hurts me if I don’t. I put it all on the line, you know, I think I am possessed by the spirit of a gambler, the big wheel. I’ve put it all on red 27.” She could lose it all right now.
This is LP.
Born Italian. New York. You’ve got to understand that; the hottest blood, the toughest city, the smallest girl.
Today she is 5’ 3” and just over a hundred pounds but her sound is anthemic, maxed out. You don’t believe your ear-eyes when you see-hear, pealing from the body of one fighting with not enough, the music of so, so much. It is the music of emotional emergency, a prayer sung loud into a bottle and cast out to sea.
“When they see someone like me,” she says, “you can think, oh shit, I can be like that.”
I think of Judy Garland, Bjork, Freddie Mercury if he had to deal with being a fucking girl. From a little match, a conflagration.
“I’m like, just a very, very emotional, sensitive motherfucker. I’m just constantly worried about everything. But I’m trying to send a message to people that it’s going to be okay. They see the person who makes the music and I want them to know, like, I’m good. You know? I’m still sad, I’m still angry, but I’m good. I want them to know that.”
LP is the medicine. She is good for heartbreak, which she knows, and in a way, lives in. “I’m always scared to lose someone,” she says. “I’m very cognizant of the fact that it could all be gone in a second.”
She writes from that, sings from that. The annoyance, the grain of ocean-floor sand troubling the oyster. It’s loss. It’s always there.
Her mother died when she was a teenager. She sang too —a voice, LP remembers, that “was very operatic, kind of like Maria Callas with a Julie Andrews cleanness to her tone.”
Loss, loss. I’ve lost too.
She’ll never recover, but there is the mounting hope, the certain knowledge, hard-earned, that “you can wield suffering, which is strength and power.”
So it works like this: loss, loss, pearl.
LP is the power crawling itself out of the ashes. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t look like she’ll make it — then you hear. Then you know. “Everyone in the audience, I feel like I want to literally look them in the eye the whole time.” She sings:
my church is you
my church is love
my church includes all of the above
no questions asked
no one to judge
my church is you and always was.
The more she loses, the more we gain. The more we gain, the less she loses.
“I want everyone,” she says, “to know they can feel safe.”
Church, no church. Gay, not gay. The bloodletting’s the same.
The blood-pearls of a poet-oyster who has hit songs and record deals and plays sold out shows all over the world and goes to bed saying to herself, “I love, I love, I love, I love…”
