How do you give spark to a song with a stale line like "Hold me tight"? How can you best rebel against the "tyrannies of pop convention"? How do you tread the fine line between form and formula?

If you weren't at last Monday's songwriting workshop at Lehman Hall (and hardly anyone was, unfortunately) you probably don't know--but may be able to find out at next month's meeting.

In addition to this week's workshop, the Harvard/Radcliffe Songwriters' Association organized a concert as its other inaugural event. While neither event drew hordes of guitarists or groupies, rewards were there for the taking.

THE DAY'S main draw, Andrew Calhoun, is a Chicago-based musician with three fine albums on the Flying Fish label who has yet to attract a cult following in Cambridge--which probably accounts for the unexpectedly low turnout of about 30.

Calhoun is a strong proponent of the view that songwriting is an individual pursuit--fine through most of Monday's program but frustrating during discussion of the way he actually writes songs. Yet Calhoun's sometimes lofty discussion of his art did yield insight into the creative process. Even his obligatory defense of songwriting as a legitimate art form seemed fresh and sincere, especially when he illustrated points by playing and singing.

Topics ranged widely, from the internal rhymes of John Prine to the difficulty of self-accompaniment to getting an inspiration at 3 a.m. The group talked about song form, about working through mediocre ideas and about the need to avoid preachiness. Various people also took out their guitars, ran through a song and waited for comments.

It's clear that the H/R Songwriters' Association is trying to strike a balance between encouragement, commiseration, and critique at the monthly workshops. For performers without a band to bounce ideas off of, the workshops may be ideal as testing grounds for new ideas and as places to perform--something like English Car, without a grade.

The Association is headed by Aaron Fox, a senior doing his honors thesis on "neo-country" performer Dwight Yoakam. He plans to hold meetings at least once a month and they will be open to all aspiring songwriters.

THE CONCERT itself, which followed the workshop, featured three Harvard performers (including Fox) and then Calhoun after a short break. Although there were a surprising number of songs about car wrecks, the mix was varied, with traditional and original selections and plenty of humor.

Indeed, one of the biggest hits of the night--and the only tune to include the tried and true folk-song sing-along routine--was Andrew Calhoun's "Folk Singers Are Boring," a rousing work of self-deprecation.

Another highlight was the very sharp original material performed by Angus Murdock, a freshman from Charlottesville, Virginia. "Sandinista Backdoor Blues" told the story of the month he spent on a work project in Nicaragua, a land of "big red beans three times a day." As Murdock sang in one verse, "Self-determination, freedom, sovereignty/I do believe that my digestion's got the best of me."

And his "Platonic Blues" seemed a very fitting ditty for this institution of higher learning:

Well come on babe let's get platonic Let's sit down and have a chat We'll go do downtown and get some coffee

Just hang around and chew the fat Then I'll carry you over to my place And we'll cook some dinner after that

After years of scorn for singer/songwriters--the "sensitive" kind like James Taylor and Dan Fogelberg--the public seems to be picking up again on the pleasures of direct address, of music without synthesizers. Witness the rise of "folk heroes" Suzanne Vega and Billy Bragg. In fact, the Boston-area acoustic music scene is now so competitive and professional that there's little room for newcomers. One more good reason to encourage the further activities of this group.