Tag Archives: Bob Dylan

25 (More or Less) Sad Songs

This is the first post I’ve made on the Joyous Crybaby blog in close to a decade—but I knew I was letting it hang around for some reason. Today I have one, which is that my friend Lou Mindar posted his own 25 Saddest Songs list and asked for other such songs/lists. Not that I’m reviving Joyous Crybaby, but it seems like an easy place to make a kinda large list like this and it perfectly aligns with the Joyous Crybaby theme. Sad songs are, of course, sad, but they are also beautiful and beloved. Back in the day, I kept a page of Songs That Make US Cry, and many of these first appeared there.

I haven’t tried to put these in rank order, and I haven’t had time to write up the kind of thoughtful commentaries that Lou included in his list. Rather, I’ve treated these more like a play list, attempting at least a little to include contrasts and transitions and echoes through the list. Like an old mix tape, which it’s clear is my era. I’m self-conscious about how this list reflects that era and my age. I tried to fit in a couple of more recent things, but, really, they just weren’t as emotional for me. And it’s also true that I have not kept up with popular music much since about 2000, not because of a lack of interest so much as overwork and other stuff that goes with it. I’m trying to retrieve myself these days, so I do things like pause and make a sad songs list. Thanks to Lou for the inspiration.

This list goes slightly over 25—with two songs by Joe Jackson’s great double album Big World, two arias because I couldn’t decide which was sadder, and a couple of extras at the end, so really a total of 29 songs, all of which are more or less sad. I felt it important to include some angry-sad songs in addition to the wistful-sad ones, and, of course, sadness often carries at least a tinge of hope. A few other songs came really close but didn’t make it to this final list: REM’s “Everybody Hurts,” The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes,” Melissa Etheridge’s “Breathe,” and Neil Young’s “Old Man.”

Enjoy! Weep!

1. Paradise

Written and performed by John Prine

2. Pretty Bird

Written by Hazel Dickens

Performed a capella by Hazel Dickens on the album Hazel & Alice [Gerrard]

3. The Boxer

Written by Paul Simon

Performed by Simon & Garfunkel

4. Love Has No Pride

Written by Eric Justin Kaz and Libby Titus

Performed by Bonnie Raitt

5. Rainy Night in Georgia

Written by Tony Joe White

Performed by Brook Benton

6. a. Shanghai Sky and 6. b. We Can’t Live Together

Written and performed by Joe Jackson

7. Eleanor Rigby

Written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon

Performed by The Beatles

8. Backwater Blues

Written and performed by Bessie Smith

9. Nocturne, B. 49: Lento con gran espressione in C-sharp minor

Written by Frederic Chopin

Performed by Janusz Olejniczak

10. Little Green

Written and performed by Joni Mitchell

11. Fast Car

Written and performed by Tracy Chapman

12. Death Song

Traditional song arranged and performed by R. Carlos Nakai

13. Redemption Song

Written and performed by Bob Marley

14. Wish You Were Here

Written by David Gilmour and Roger Waters

Performed by Pink Floyd

15. Asimbonanga (Mandela)

Written by Johnny Clegg

Performed by Johnny Clegg and Savuka

16. Crime for Crime

Written and performed by Ani DiFranco

17. Hang Down Your Head

Written by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan

Performed by Tom Waits

18. I Loved a Lass

Traditional arranged by Terry Cox, Bert Jansch, Jacqui McShee, John Renbourn, Danny Thompson

Performed by The Pentangle

19. Devil Song

Written and performed by Beth Orton

20. Killing Me Softly

Written by Charles Fox and Norman Gimbel

Performed by Roberta Flack

21. With or Without You

Written by Bono and U2

Performed by U2

22 a. and b. I could not choose which of these was sadder, so feel free to pick one or listen to both.

Un bel di (from Madame Butterfly)

Written by Giacomo Puccini

Performed by Leontyne Price and the Orchestra de Radio-Canada and Jacques Beaudry

Ebben? Ne andrò lontana (from La Wally)

Written by Alfredo Catalani

Performed by Angela Gheorghiu and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and Marco Armiliato

23. Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters

Written and performed by Elton John

24. Me and Bobby McGee

Written by Kris Kristofferson

Performed by Janis Joplin

25. Blowin’ in the Wind

Written by Bob Dylan

Performed by Bob Dylan

Performed by Peter, Paul, and Mary

26. Gone for Good

Written by Mark Sandman, Dana Colley, and Billy Conway

Performed by Morphine

PostScript. The Lark Ascending

Written by Ralph Vaughn-Williams

Performed by Hilary Hahn with the London Symphony Orchestra and Sir Colin Davis

All Along the Watchtower

I’ve been keeping this blog for about six months now—at least two posts a week for six weeks. On Thursday I hope to reflect more generally on this journey, but today I want to mention the heat that’s involved in any kind of public discourse, no matter how modest.

Why is it worth trying to tell the truth as I see it? It certainly doesn’t make me universally popular. Fortunately, I get more in the way of agreement and support privately from those who say they don’t want to venture more publically (though they often do just that in a necessary context). I’ve been having all kinds of discussions off the blog with people about my willingness to deal with the more public criticism and about my willingness to speak my mind.

And let me note that I’m not perfect, and my blog is a personal rather than a journalistic one. I don’t say unfounded things with no reason, but what I write about is always open to interpretation. I don’t claim to be an economic expert or a psychology expert or a music expert or an expert on the formation of new departments at my university. I have a moderate level of knowledge about any subject I approach, though I remain open and correctable. It’s my hope that there is some shred left of a desire for discussion where people say, “Here are my reasons,” in response to my saying, “Here are my reasons.” That’s what I believe we are called upon to do as supposedly thinking people, especially those pursuing an academic life. Instead, I often find myself in a position where I have outraged someone by speaking (or writing) at all.

I have been fulfilling this position for much of my life. I don’t know how or why it became so important for me to speak my mind and to report what it is I see before me. I do know that it was a role I played in my own family of origin, and I remember reading a book about family dynamics years ago in which I recognized that I was the one who always said the things no one else would say even though they were all thinking the same thing. I was the one who expressed much of the dismay or frustration that everyone else felt.

Even this weekend, I had an exchange with my mother (sorry, Mom!) about an email she’d sent about trying to plan for the holidays. There are certain extended family members who resist communication and who make it all very complicated for my mother and her husband. In their branch of the family, the holidays have long been a power struggle. I told my mother that this year Bruce and I are going to plan for ourselves and extend a few invitations, but that I am not going to undergo eight weeks of hostile negotiations. Period. Eventually, my mother said that she was so sorry she had sent the email and upset me. It took me a few minutes to realize that she was the one who was most upset by this situation, not me. I was expressing her distress. I was naming the problem with the extended family, even though my mother knew full-well what it was.

I don’t know why I am this way. Maybe it has to do with the sub-conscious training in my family to fulfill a certain need others had. Maybe I was just struck in elementary school by The Emperor’s New Clothes, a brilliant children’s book if ever there was one. Maybe it has to do with developing an early chronic illness that the doctors always accused me of lying about (“I know you ate candy.” “I know you didn’t have a low blood sugar.” “I know you skipped your injection.”). Maybe it had to do with my unusual proximity to death and a desire not to waste my time with bullsh*t.

My friend H reminded me this weekend that Virginia Woolf always considered herself an outsider and that she evoked devotion in some and hatred in others. I’m not a “great thinker,” but I do hold up for myself a few fellow truth-tellers that I admire and who have always inspired me: Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Adrienne Rich, Claribel Alegría, Tillie Olsen, Susan Brownmiller. These are people who understand the dangers of silence, and I am in good company if I poke some people in the eye.

Today, I present to you Bob Dylan’s song as sung by Jimi Hendrix, and this lovely interpretation of its meaning, the importance of truth to artists, and the importance of outsiders to society. “Let us not talk falsely now, / The hour is getting late.”