Why is Music Better When We Are Sad?
After adding another song to my 2021 Spotify playlist, I scrolled through my music library. I used to consume so much music that a new playlist every month could barely contain me. Checking my Discover Weekly and Release Radar was a religious experience, filled with impatience and excitement.
How had I gotten to a place where one playlist for the year was sufficient?
Yesterday, I started listening to the Cut’s recent episode on the debut album ‘Sour’ by Olivia Rodrigo. This album, for those of you under a rock or without taste, is the new classic teen breakup album filled with the universal angst of 17. While Olivia is without a doubt Queen of the Teens, her music has also reached an audience well outside her age group.
TikTok is filled with millennials screaming to her songs, women a decade removed from the heartbreak of high school. (i.e., me, who has this open next to my Pinterest page for Emerald Green wedding inspiration and another tab checking on my Roth IRA).
So why? Why am I screaming about getting my driver’s license at 27?
Other than the fact I failed my driver’s test twice before passing? (The line ‘I can’t even parallel park’ still cuts deeps for me).
It’s not that these songs reflect how I feel now but rather how I felt in high school and in college. Back when I had an unreliable, on-again-off-again relationship.
Ugh, I had such better taste in music when I was miserable. Those frequent playlists I was talking about before. They had moody names like ‘dethaw2’ or ‘TristeMel.’ As soon as I hit play, I can feel my heart sink and a cloud come over my head. I am back to being 19 and absolutely tortured, unable to go on another day.
I lived in the sadness of these songs, and I secretly kind of loved it.
“New York” by Snow Patrol always gutting me with the line ‘If you were here beside me, instead of in New York’ because it perfectly fit the feelings of my long-distance relationship.
‘Oh Emily’ by Jukebox the Ghost is about a ‘funny girl named Emily’ who gets her heart broken. (My name is Emily, so it was obviously about me).
And oh man, ‘Figure 8’ by Ellie Goulding completely got the cyclical nature of my emotions at 18.
I read an article in JSTOR Daily called Why Do We Listen to Sad Music? that says studies show ‘in addition to sadness, such music also produced “a range of more positive, aesthetic emotions,” like nostalgia, peacefulness, and wonder.”’ This ‘pleasurable sadness’ can lead to overall healing and enjoyment.
And that’s why music was a much bigger, colorful part of my life at that point in time.
It comforted me to know others felt this way, and to have them put it so beautifully. Epic art to reflect what felt like monumental, life-altering feelings.
I’m even getting a bit sad about not being sad. About unchecked anxiety and limitless depression, which is insanity. If 19-year-old me could talk to 27-year-old me, she’d probably smack me.
But sometimes I really do just miss it. I miss the ache in my heart that could only be drowned out by The National or Bear’s Den.
Now, I’m grateful for these sad songs. For giving me a place to go back to and ruminate when life gets a big rough now. I know they will let me be and somehow that makes it better.
So, thank you to the people who write sad songs. You make me happy.