Three in the morning and the sad songs didn’t start til 2 a.m. But it was just the right timing, past the point of hoping for sleep while verging on acceptance of the insomnia ahead. Somehow it took several hours of tossing and turning and ruminating before I sought sonic distraction.

Of course, as is often the case, the most suitable finds were perfectly randomized. Old favorites whose notes felt warm and comforting to tired ears, plucked by an algorithm with no knowledge of my state of mind. Listening to these familiar songs, played in past desperate times, reminded me this, all of this, too, shall pass, be it three to five minutes and four to six chords at a time.



This song. This song is meaningful, with glimmering darkness that swallows you whole. Few words, small melody, with cinematic, visceral sound. It reminds me of worse times, and better ones, the safe familiar vision of that light so far in the distance.

“Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there’s no one else to blame.”

~Breathe Me, 
Sia, Color the Small Ones



What a find. This album is a perennial rediscovery,and well-worth it,because it’s solid from start to finish and desperate folk-sad with an alt-rock sound. Haunting vocals, which, I’d say, all three of these tracks have in common. This is a song for rainy nights and whiskey tears. I’m halfway there.

“Anything to make you smile
You are the ever-living ghost of what once was
I never want to hear you say
That you’d be better off
Or you liked it that way

But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do
No one’s gonna love you more than I do.”

~No One’s Gonna Love You More Than I Do 
Band of Horses, Cease to Begin

Early-stage Radiohead. What more is there to say? Truly one of the best albums of all time, a precursor to the genius works to come with a little bit of that grunge rock angst still kicking around the edges.. Think I found the right album for the remainder of this sullen night. One that provokes a little thoughtfulness, a little depth, which are the intellectual ways to describe wallowing, I think.

“Two jumps in a week
I bet you think that’s pretty clever don’t you boy?
Flying on your motorcycle,
Watching all the ground beneath you drop
You’d kill yourself for recognition,
Kill yourself to never ever stop
You broke another mirror,
You’re turning into something you are not

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry,
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry.

Drying up in conversation,
You will be the one who cannot talk.

All your insides fall to pieces,
You just sit there wishing you could still make love.
They’re the ones who’ll hate you,
When you think you’ve got the world all sussed out,
They’re the ones who’ll spit at you,
You will be the one screaming out.

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry

It’s the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing that you ever, ever had
It’s the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing you ever had has gone away.

Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry,
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry,
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry,
Don’t leave me high, don’t leave me dry.”

~High and Dry 
Radiohead, The Bends