Sounds Better In The Song

I work in a room with three others. We bring in our iPods, hook them up to my iTrip, and listen to music all day. Since the radio is on my desk, I usually play DJ with my iPod, but the others just put it on shuffle—that’s where you hear everyone’s guilty pleasure music. We’ve be subjected to everything from “I’m A Barbie Girl” to Michael Buble. The other day, I thought, why not, I’ll put mine on shuffle too and so what if My Chemical Romance and Kelly Clarkson happen to infiltrate the mix. That’s when I really realized that most of my music is really sad.

I went to listen to Iron and Wine play last night. Sad music.

Ray LaMontangne. Sad music.

Ryan Adams. Sad music.

Son Volt. Bonnie Prince Billy. Brandon L. Butler.

The saddest song from Drive By Truckers and Wilco are my favorites.

Possibly, my affection toward sad music is because inside we are all bruised. And we have all beaten others as well. Hearts have been tattered and torn, stepped on and crushed, from mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, lovers, personal disappointments, failed triumphs, and unfulfilled hopes. It makes us real. Or really insane. It makes us learn. We should appreciate those times. Often, those who can cope with these sad occurrences have the most character and understanding. They are never boastful or adhere to a soapbox mentality. They are quietly strong. Silently intense. It’s okay to be sad sometimes, in fact, I think it is healthy. It’s the people who walk around overly happy all the time that you have to be worried about. They are dead inside.

Sad music is hope. “1000 Oceans” just played. And I hope that after the song “Trouble” finishes, another sad one plays again.