With Christmas lunch upon us, we’re reminded how easy it is to lose touch with those we know. Ron Sexsmith’s song articulates it beautifully. Sandy, I’m sorry.
‘Down in a hole’ sans the brutal context, is anything but a sad song. However, tied up with the narrative of the man who sung it, the neg vibes flood in.
Sometimes less is absolutely more. Ben Folds death drags his opus ‘Cigarette’ in 90 seconds, as the rest of us splutter as the emotional detritus remains lodged in our throats.
Paul Kelly is a gifted writer, especially when charting what he no longer has. When I First Met Your Ma, is a superb example of love lived, love lost and lessons learned.
Don Henley is an astute student of loss. Be it driving the streets pursuing his love, and the summer they shared, or in this instance, the precise moment when you discover your ex has found someone new. Get out of my head, Henley.
Rilo Kiley boldly brings empathetic light to the hopes of the mistress, with the song’s protagonist believing that once the divorce comes to be, they’d both be free in California. Not so much.
A mother’s love is a mother’s love. Even if she dismisses you in favour of her addictions. Tupac has lived this, and he’s been good enough to share.
A rare treat this week, as we delve into the vulnerability of David Bowie. It seems that coke sniffing pansexual aliens have feelings too. That’s pretty freaky.
‘Heroin Girl’ is a song about exactly that. To the artist who wrote the track, she was his everything; to everyone else, she was just another overdose.
Jessie is a problem we’ve all had. The grating drunk phone call from the ex we never tamed, one that promises all and delivers nothing. But still we believe.
Drake, the man who started from the lowest wrung before reaching his current station, features this week, adding a symphony to his parental issues. Not bad for a reformed child actor.
Despite the author being a teenager, ‘Relapse’ is far deeper than the standard diary fare. The visceral feeling of love amputated bleeds off the page.
In the next instalment of 200 Sad Songs, we are dragged into the darkest corner of Nick Cave’s ‘Murder Ballads’, documenting the split of a pair, and the emotional hell that rides in soon after it.
The benefit of age is seeing the people you’ve ruined. Willie Nelson knows this, and up next in 200 Sad Songs he’ll explain the autumnal years regret he walks through. Love is fun.
There are many odes to dead women, but The Zombies’ effort grows like decay. Consider it Rigor mortis of the heart.
Freddy Mercury’s saccharine mash note to the absence of love is our next stop on the Sad Songs train. He earnestly believes that true love will save him, but will it?
We tend to slight Gonzo, some Muppets being created more equal than others, though we should take his song seriously. His ode to missed opportunities is up next in 200 Sad Songs.
Holly Throsby’s “When?” is a song is about an important aspect of love: looking forward to when you’re over the ex, and the landscape is bright once more.
I have no idea what the title of this song means, or indeed the point of it, but I know how it feels. Claustrophobic. Disquieting. Brilliant.
This week we’re sent to the big house with Cold Chisel’s Four Walls, a song that starts tongue in cheek, and ends head in hands. Time to pack your sharpened toothbrush, its 200 Sad Songs time.
Buried deep in Celine Dion’s “It’s all coming back to me now” is a single line of such honest, powerful beauty it makes us reach for the draino. Flaming every shred of a lost love in our broken minds, in today’s 200 Sad Songs.
Heartache is often the only thing you have left of someone, so if you let that go, they’re truly gone. Next up in 200 Sad Songs we address that duality. Let go for what?