This summer has been quite the bummer, right? We here at Tell Me Something got to thinking: What is the biggest bummer song? You know, that song that you put on and to make yourself feel sad and super Zach Braff-y. Well, there's really only one way to find out and that's an incredibly sad, deeply depressing and somewhat biased look at the songs that bring us down the most presented in a confusing and, again, biased form. Here we go...
Bob Dylan - "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go"
As an eternal romantic AND an eternal pessimist, this song does it for me. Whoever Dylan is singing about, this chick worships him and is actually giving him “TOO MUCH” love, though he’s not complaining. This is perfect. Better than any relationship he’s been in before, he can’t even compare them. Oh, but wait. She’s going to leave? Nothing’s wrong, everything is perfect, but he already knows. This shit is doomed. She’ll leave eventually and he’s going to be lonesome. I guess lonesome is better than desolate. And we know Dylan knows all about desolation. But still, here it is. He calls it “easy and slow,” “right on target, so direct.” Sounds fucking fantastic to me. Which is why it’s so tragic. He’s convinced she’s going to leave, so it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I mean, why he would assume any woman would leave him is beyond me. The guy is (was) real handsome and a poetic genius, while slightly bat-shit. And crazy people tend to have a hard time with stability, at least in my experience. But I digress.
One of my favorite things about this song is Dylan comparing his past relationships to Verlaine & Rimbaud. Quick history lesson (totally relevant, I promise)- Arthur Rimbaud was a French poet in the late 1800’s. He wrote all of his poetry as a teenager, and then spent time travelling the world because he was restless and depressed and it was way cheaper to travel back then. Anyway, he had a serious affair with Paul Verlaine, another poet, who abandoned his wife and kid to drink absinthe and smoke hash with Rambeau. It was dramatic and torrid and Verlaine shot Rambeau and was arrested for attempted murder and they parted ways, etc. etc. Real dramatic stuff. The point being, Dylan had all these terrible dramatic relationships. But this isn’t one of them! This is magical and beautiful and makes him think about crickets and flowers and rivers and beautiful garbage you wouldn’t expect to come from him.
As beautiful as it is, he knows it’s ending. And when you hear him say it, you know it too. Kind of doomed before it actually starts, I guess. If you decide someone’s going to leave you before things go sour, it might very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy. So even if you’re happy as a clam, you can listen to this song and think “Well shit. That could be me. And if Dylan KNOWS it’s headed for disaster, how is there any way I could actually have a successful relationship? Because as awesome as I am, I am no Bob Dylan. I’m destined to fail!” - Theresa Martin
PS- for serious feels, if you’re into country, listen to Miley Cyrus’s cover of this, from Chimes of Freedom. I guarantee you’ll be in tears by the end. Just try not to think about her twerking.
Daughter - "Youth"
The night I saw Daughter live for the first time, I drank enough whiskey to make everything fuzzy. The venue’s cobalt blue lights created a hazy glow around the British band I’d obsessed the previous months. Jameson cradled me as Daughter’s Elena Tonra’s songbird like vocals put words to everything I’d refused to talk about over the past year. And despite how hard I’d tried to numb myself that night and every night leading up to it, nothing was fuzzy about the way my heart hurt line after line of “Youth.” Those pains were as sharp as the lyrics Tonra uttered. The same is true about almost all of Daughter’s songs – there’s a glittering melancholy unlike just about anything I’ve heard in modern music. But what sets “Youth” apart even more so is the sense of acceptance in regards to hopelessness and inescapable loneliness. That sort of sadness is rare, and no matter how much whiskey you try to drown it in, it doesn’t get fuzzy. “Youth” describes the comfortable pain of nothing being okay, and knowing that it’s quite possible that nothing will be okay ever again. And if you haven’t felt that way, you’re the lucky ones. - Lindsey Bluher