How to turn an old riff into a full song: Part 4 –Structure

With the core of our songs already written, we explore how they can be structured, before writing the all-important middle section

Quick jump links

• Part 1

• Part 2 

• Part 3 

The fourth and penultimate part of our Turning a Riff into a Full Song blog series plays a crucial, yet often overlooked, role in the songwriting process. While we’re just a bridge section away from completing this trio of songs, it’s important to take a step back and reflect before pushing forward, carefully considering the song’s overall structure. This way, we can ensure the final piece of the puzzle is crafted to fit the rest of the song, rather than being forced into place.

We’ve arrived at this fourth and penultimate part with each of our three songs—designed to demonstrate the different ways a core idea can evolve into a complete track—with each defined by an intro, verse, and chorus (and a pre-chorus with Song Two).

As discussed in Part 1, a song doesn’t need additional sections beyond a strong bridge here—what we don’t want to create is a ‘riff soup’ that lacks purpose and conviction. Let’s stay focused.

A mid-section is typically your chance to take a song in a new direction: to introduce a different mood, explore a contrasting texture, and breathe new life into a track that, by now, should have settled into its own identity. But before we dive into those sections to complete our three songs, it’s essential to consider the context of each piece and how they might be structured.

At this point, we have three songs that take us from opening riff to second chorus—so what justifies the need for a new section? To answer that, we need to understand the context of each song from the outset. Below, I’ve laid out my thoughts on this process, so we’re ready to approach the final section of each song with clear intent.

When we write with conviction, we avoid stitching unrelated ideas together and instead create something cohesive and compelling. So, how best should we structure these songs?

Song One

The verse in this song was designed to dial back the dynamics following a propulsive opening riff. It aimed to give the listener a moment to breathe—easing off the momentum without bringing it to a complete halt.

As the section progresses, chugging guitars are gradually introduced to begin building the energy again in anticipation of the chorus. The chorus itself is a two-sided idea, shifting between expansive chords and a more aggressive passage that nods back to the main riff.

The version of the song you last heard had the final riff-driven refrain replaced with more chordal work, which I felt provided a stronger platform for the vocals. However, I found that returning to the main riff afterwards posed a real challenge.

My solution was to build on the tension created by the final chords—F and D♯. The core issue was that, although the song is in D, the main riff begins on a D♯, and transitioning straight back into the intro felt off to me. Jumping directly into the verse again felt too abrupt as well.

The tacked-on passage continues the descending chords pattern, landing on the open D for what was previously a measure featuring two chords. I found that by holding the chord here instead of changing it where the listener expects it to, the tension naturally increased—and as a listener, I was left wanting that tension to break. After a brief pause for added impact, that release comes with the return of the main riff.

Bringing the main riff back served two key purposes: it allowed the song’s core idea to reassert itself, and it provided a natural way to return to the verse without over thinking the transition. The only new twist here is the addition of a chugging guitar line an octave above. My aim was to push the song forward, rather than letting it drift with open space occasionally punctuated by stabs of guitar.

It’s a simple move, but one that keeps the listener engaged—the part isn’t just a copy-and-paste job from earlier, but rather a development that propels the song onward. It avoids retracing steps, even though we’ve just revisited the intro.

That leads us neatly into two choruses, at the end of which the listener...

Song Two

For this verse, I really wanted to shift the feel of the song without disrupting the momentum we’d built. But, as I mentioned in part 2, a pre-chorus was necessary to bridge the gap between the relative quiet of the verse and the bombast of the chorus.

Following the chorus, I was keen to avoid repeating the main riff again. After trying out various ideas, I found that the simplest solution worked best—Occam’s razor strikes again. All I needed to return to the verse idea was a bar break, with a straightforward drum fill maintaining the drive and giving the start of the verse a nice bit of punch.

Not wanting to repeat the first verse verbatim, I decided to have the bass lock in with the kick drums, which actually brings it closer in feel to the verses in song one. One potential issue here is that the bass sticks to the root note of D for all eight bars. In my experience, this could make things trickier for the vocalist when it comes to writing a compelling melody over the top. I’m hoping the chords bring enough colour to offset that limitation—but it’s always worth bearing those things in mind.

From there, I felt the pre-chorus and chorus could repeat as they were. The verse had already introduced a touch of variation, so deviating too much from the established structure risked making things feel disjointed. Sometimes, it’s best not to over think certain sections—letting the song breathe and flow naturally, rather than feeling compelled to change things up every eight bars.

It’s worth remembering that, while a song might start to feel stale to you during the writing process, to the listener, it’s still entirely fresh. That means you don’t need nearly as many change-ups as you might think when you’re deep in the writing process.

What repeating those two sections also allowed for was a complete head-flip of a bridge. Up to this point, the song has been full of forward motion and has had a fairly upbeat, even bouncy feel—especially in the chorus. But as you’ll soon hear, it felt absolutely right to open the gates of hell for the bridge.

Song Three

John Browne encouraged me to experiment with a concept he calls the sub groove—where only the lowest elements of a riff are played to create a heavy, pulsing groove that feels both familiar and fresh. It’s a brilliant way to get more mileage out of a single idea, and it works beautifully in song three.

There’s a real aggression to the sub groove, and the Leprous-style guitars in the background add an epic, larger-than-life quality. This paves the way for a chorus that makes full use of DADGAD tuning, topped off with a lead melody that introduces a dynamic not present in the other two songs.

Once again, I’ve chosen not to repeat the opening riff, as the parts are working from the same foundational concept. I find that once these recurring sections are firmly established in the listener’s ear, they don’t need to be as long when they return. That’s why the verse in song two is just eight bars, followed by another eight bars for the pre-chorus—sixteen bars in total is more than enough.

The subtle change here is that, instead of bringing the background guitars back, I’ve reintroduced the tremolo line from the main riff—seeing as it hasn’t had a chance to return, given that the main riff itself never comes back. I find that when motifs like this reappear in different contexts, it helps make the song feel more cohesive and fluid.

As for the background guitars—much as I love them—it’s often wise to leave your audience wanting more. Personally, the tone and harmonies of those guitars are like a sugar rush; they’re addictive, they make me want to go back and listen to the track all over again. Holding them back increases the chance of repeat listens. Overplay them, and that hook risks being dulled—the listener gets their fix and might not feel the need to return. In the Spotify era, these techniques are more valuable than ever.

Now, this should have set me up perfectly for a bridge section to change the ship’s course, so to speak. But I’d be lying if I said finishing this song—ironically, my favourite going into the bridge-writing phase—didn’t push me to the edge of multiple breakdowns. We’ll dig into the problems I faced with this track in the next and final part of the blog series. Just know that, while I’m here to help you avoid classic songwriting pitfalls as you work to finish those dust-collecting demos, I haven’t been immune to them myself.

Until next time.