Lately I've become a convert to the "easy listening" stations that play nothing but classic hits from decades ago. Many, if not most, of these classics are described as "love songs".  But strangely, the love they describe is either gone, going, or just plain twisted. And they're usually very, very sad.   

There is something to be learnt from this, however. To quote Elton John (who wrote more than a few himself): "Sad songs say so much."

So, what do they say? Well, usually that the singer (who is often also the lyricist) is a very sick little puppy!

Take Anne Murray, for instance.  Her classic "Torn Between Two Lovers" clearly reveals her to be a pathological narcissist -- and an indecisive one at that.

On hearing it many people identify deeply with her tragic situation.  But I always think: Oh, make up your mind, you dozy bird, before you do any more damage!

That said, at least Murray was not a clear and present danger to the community like Dan Hill. You may recall Hill's monster hit "Sometimes When We Touch". In a voice stuffed to bursting with rage, hurt, and anxiety he wails:

"Sometimes when we touch the honesty's too much ... And I have to close my eyes and hide."

Dan was clearly terrified of intimacy. So terrified, he was well on the way to committing actual physical violence. He even says as much in the song:

"At times I'd like to break you and drive you to your knees." 

Sheesh!  To think he was considered a real dream boat in his day.  (Still, many women do seem to have a weakness for guys with "issues".)

Poor Dan. Never had another hit after that, did he? Probably still in the slammer for assault ...

To be fair, most singers aren't sociopaths. Many are just incurable wallowers.

The King was one of them. "Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?" he crooned plaintively.

If I could, I would have said to him:  I doubt she's missing you, Elvis.  She's probably out having a fine old time with scores of other guys, just like Dion's "Runaround Sue". Get over it, mate!

Singers (and their shrinks) would defend this propensity for wallowing with the "therapy" argument. Neil Diamond even turned it into a hit called "Song Sung Blue":

"When you take the blues and make a song, you sing them out again."

Not so. If I hear too many of Diamond's "blues" songs, I don't feel happier. On the contrary, I want to slash my wrists (or his, preferably).

Still, they're not as depressing (or disturbing) as some. In that regard, absolutely nothing compares to “Nothing Compares to You” by Sinead O'Connor.

These lyrics are of most concern: "All the flowers that you planted, mama ... in the back yard ... all died when you went away."

What actually happened here? Was she incestuously involved with her own mother, who was a gardener? And did she leave Sinead for someone else, perhaps another family member? Or ... what?

Ugh! Doesn't bear thinking about.

In any case the message is clear: Don't emulate Sinead or you'll wind up alone, go insane, then shave your head.

Clearly, sad songs do say so much about the singers. But the more worrying question is: what do they say about me, that I keep listening to them?

END. 

Matt Hayden, November 2005.