While making a playlist for the sake of writing this, I quickly blurred the line between “songs that saved my life” and “songs that made me want to die.” Perhaps for songs to truly hit me with extreme depth and emotion, they need to play around with this dichotomy.
Fortunately, said dichotomy will make this article all the more interesting for you, the reader. Unfortunately for me, my emotional state whilst writing this was akin to trench warfare. But overall, the songs I’ve listed below have played a heavy part in my life, and even though they’ve haunted me at times, I could never live without them.
1. Jeff Rosenstock- “…While You’re Alive”
I’m gonna get this out in the air right away– Jeff Rosenstock shows up three times on this list.
Let’s be honest, if you were tasked with a list like this and wanted to be completely genuine, you’d probably let your favorite artist get a couple extra notches. While I don’t know if I’d comprehensively label Jeff Rosenstock (whom I will refer to as simply “Jeff” for much of this) as my “favorite artist,” he certainly has the repertoire and staying power in my life to hold such a title. The song I’ve chosen first comes from one of my favorite albums of all time, Jeff’s 2016 release “WORRY.”
The song “…While You’re Alive” is to me the centerpiece of this phenomenal album, and I feel it completely encompasses the mood and message of not only the album but my fragile emotional state. To properly experience this song you understand it is merely a piece of a much larger body of work because the songs before and following it on the track list flow into each other as a sort of grand finale to the album. Though for the sake of time, I’m only going to cover this song.
“-When you’re a ghost, they’ll sit around and talk about how they loved you the most,” is the line that we are greeted with, accompanied by quiet but fast acoustic strumming that leaves you feeling as raw and vulnerable as Jeff does with such an admission. While dissecting every lyric of every song I’ll mention is quite tempting, I’ll try for your sake to boil them down to their most important parts. When the song suddenly boosts into high gear and electric guitars and booming drums are heard, Jeff repeats the key message of the song: “I wanna let you know while you’re alive, because everybody loves you when you die.” This song is a desperate attempt to communicate love to the people who matter to you, and an acknowledgment of how hopeless you would be without them. Jeff continually uses heartfelt imagery and somber chords to truly communicate the beauty we consistently receive from the people who seem to go far too long without acknowledgment and appreciation.
As someone ruled by the fear of loss and overwhelmed almost to a fault by the love for my friends, family and partner, this song captures a type of desperation and tear-jerking need to show just how crushed I would be if they were gone. Even though there are plenty more quotable lines here, I’ll leave you with the final lyric, which sums up both the song and the album in which it’s featured:
“It’s not like the love that they showed us on TV. It’s a home that can burn, it’s a limb to freeze. It’s worry. Love is worry.”
2. The Beatles- “The Long and Winding Road”
For this one, I’m digging a few years into my past. Admittedly, The Beatles are not frequently in my rotation nowadays. Even though I hardly find myself revisiting them or even this song, the chokehold they had on me 3-4 years ago cannot be overlooked. Before listening to Abbey Road, it was not common for me to listen to albums front to back (except for AJR albums, which is an era of my life I’ll happily ignore for the rest of time.) I made an effort to listen to every single Beatles album at least four times and became obsessed with them for over a year. They were all I listened to, and I was perfectly fine with that.
This song struck a chord with me during a difficult time. As time continued to pass, friendships died and change was striking me from every angle of my life. Everything was already nightmarishly hectic until COVID-19 hit and further devolved everyone’s world —not just mine— into complete chaos.
“The Long and Winding Road” finds Paul McCartney in a similar state of chaos. He croons over orchestral production about this long and winding road, that seems to always lead to the people who don’t want him around anymore. This song was written near the end of The Beatles. Tensions were high amongst the band and it seemed so painfully obvious that change and loss of friendship were on the horizon.
The song reflects this desperate fear but with a somber acceptance of the roads that led us to where we are today. In the bridge, Paul says, “Many times I’ve been alone, and many times I’ve cried. Anyway, you’ll never know the many ways I’ve tried.” This line always made me extremely emotional during this section of my life. In a time when it seemed like I was the only one fighting for safety and comfort, it felt like all the forces around me were deciding against my happiness.
I’d like to make note of one thing that I find very sobering. Long after the album this song is featured on was released, “Let it Be” was heavily remastered with stripped-back production and simpler arrangements. This version is titled “Let it Be… Naked.” This was released in 2014, so it was long after the deaths of both John Lennon and George Harrison. Paul McCartney, however, is still with us to this day. When he provided new vocals for the naked version of this song, he changed one line.
“Anyway, you’ve always known the many ways I’ve tried.”
Change is bound for us. We can’t make decisions for the other people in our lives to suit our every need. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t loved. It doesn’t mean people can’t see the love you have for them. They’ve always known.
3. Nick Drake- “From the Morning”
I’m a songwriter. I say that begrudgingly because even though I’ve started dozens of songs, I can only really say I’ve finished one or two. But if there’s any artist that I’ve unintentionally taken the most influence from, it’s Nick Drake. His lyrics have such a poetic simplicity that can deceive you into thinking he’s not saying that much. This isn’t the case for all of his songs but this is most definitely true for the song, “From the Morning.”
This song accompanies me when I feel disillusioned with the universe. When the typical challenges of my life all feel so incredibly pointless. When everything feels not only like a waste of time, but all of time itself feels worthless.
A simple guitar melody carries this track from beginning to end, with Nick Drake’s deep and wispy voice accompanying it. It’s simple, the background music doesn’t develop further than a simple verse and chorus structure, and Drake doesn’t over-extend his voice or try any sort of vocal embellishment for the sake of frivolity. However, don’t confuse simplicity for the lack of beauty.
“A day once dawned, and it was beautiful.”
When we have such a simple song laid out in front of us, we have no choice but to listen to the lyrics. In doing so you’ll find simple observations about the world. Days dawning, nights falling, and people rising. This song is simply a statement about that which is beautiful.
During the chorus, we find a line that remains the only one that makes me hesitate to put this song in an article titled “10 Songs That Saved My Life.”
“Go play the game that you learned from the morning.”
To me, this line symbolizes the arbitrary tasks that we continue to be obligated to complete to survive as humans. It makes me feel like an infant being told by a societal structure to do what I was taught. Not only am I to do what is expected of me, but I am told that it’s a “game.” A mere performance of busywork meant to entertain me until I die.
While this song can sometimes spark a sense of existential dread, what’s important to remember is the very thing we are distracted from by these pointless tasks: Days dawning, nights falling, and people rising.
4. Tyler, The Creator- “GONE, GONE / THANK YOU”
There’s something so interesting about having been able to experience the album “IGOR” before, during, and after my first relationship. Tyler, The Creator’s 2019 masterpiece is pretty much a live journal of what it’s like to fall both in and out of love with somebody. It’s also an album I hardly revisit anymore, for the sake of my mental sanity.
It’s not even that I find it that relatable anymore, though I’m no stranger to distorting my memories and experiences to try to relate more deeply to a piece of music or art. I think it’s a combination of many things; the time in my life that this album represents and how I’m so separated from that era that there’s virtually nothing connecting me to it emotionally anymore.
However, this doesn’t change the fact that the song, “GONE, GONE / THANK YOU” will forever remain an almost religious pillar of catharsis for me during a time when there was very little that made me feel content.
This song represents the begrudging but total acceptance of loss. Tyler opens the song with simple but catchy backing drums until it transitions to raw and off-kilter vocals, which are so pitched up and distorted that it feels as unstable as his emotional state. His lyrics imply a sense of sadness when he says, “Jump off the roof into the mirror.” Almost like an attempt to destroy yourself and your worth is what springs up the opportunity for self-reflection.
“Whether it’s rain or shine, I know I’m fine for now. My love’s gone.”
What I find so utterly amazing about this song is the fact that it translates such a painful emotion into an experience so joyful and breathtaking. After the first chorus plays and transitions into the first breakdown, the song almost feels like a celebration as the lyrics continually repeat “gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.” I will always remember the countless times I’ve danced like an absolute idiot to this portion of the song when I was either home alone or just in my room. Walking and falling over myself as I flung about, turning an emotion that was so visceral and agonizing into the most exuberant and thoughtless demonstration of happiness.
Following a cerebral and sobering lyrical section, where Tyler continues to find acceptance in the loss of his love and gratefulness for his chance to have ever felt it, we are met with a section of the song as aching as it is danceable. The backing track completely switches up to a brutal and punching beat, sounding like gunshots going through your body as you continue to dance to its infectious rhythm. Over this, the most raw section of vocals ring out, repeating a seething revelation.
“Thank you for the love, thank you for the joy. But I don’t ever wanna fall in love again.”
5. Black Country, New Road- “The Place Where He Inserted the Blade”
Black Country, New Road is my favorite band. There’s no getting around it. Where the instrumentation achieves pure beauty and feeling, the lyrics match it with a deep and cutting rawness. They’re typically described as post-punk or post-rock, but that never really gets across the tone of their music.
Their style is particularly orchestral as instruments like violin and saxophone frequently take center stage. This along with their stellar vocalist Isaac Wood, whose vocal style is uniquely intense, provides me with insurmountable experiences that I’ve yet to see replicated in any other artist. Unfortunately, Isaac Wood left the band shortly after the release of the album this song is featured on, “Ants From Up There,” citing issues with mental health. I’m overall happy that he has been able to find growth and healing, despite the loss of a truly remarkable talent. This talent is not unseen here, where I feel lyrically Isaac has achieved an intense portrait of unrequited love.
It’s common for me to feel emotionally tied to how a song decides to open. Most notably with a lyric that strikes me in such a way that it becomes increasingly obvious that such a song will never leave my side as long as I live:
“You’re scared of a world where you’re needed.”
As a soft piano intro leads us to this first line, the song opens up with beautiful yet dissonant flute melodies accompanied by somber guitar strumming. Isaac continues to describe being entangled in an infatuation with somebody and reveling in the fact that despite our tendency to get hurt, we always heal and come back stronger. He uses the imagery of school friends “sign(ing) our casts in the playground,” to evoke a sense of childlike innocence that we forget is within ourselves all too often.
The breakdown leading into the first chorus greets us with plucky piano chords, with Isaac further declaring that despite his efforts to forget about this person, all of his thoughts return to them. Then a boisterous chorus accompanies Isaac recounting his erratic nature and desperation until this person provides him with a sense of safety “as if it never happened at all.”
I fell in love with this song upon first listening. The enchanting instrumental sections and catchy chorus grabbed me, along with the emotional lyrics that seemed to describe a deep and crippling love. What had truly crushed me, however, was the re-contextualization of the lyrics after facing a break-up of my own.
For so long I had listened to this song and prescribed it with the meaning of simply being upset that you’ve lost someone you loved. In a way, I felt I hadn’t related that deeply, because my experience was very much a short and violent obsession that didn’t last more than 2 weeks. It was only when I went back and took note of the word choice that precedes the chorus, that I realized what the song meant:
“I end up dreaming of you, and you come to me.”
What Isaac was describing was not a wistful memory of what he lost, but rather a tragic realization of what he never had. In that sense, I found out I related far more than I ever wished I had. Throughout the song, we hear desperate pleas from Isaac, asking what it is he’s supposed to do to earn this kind of love. His sacrifice of himself and his sanity for any grasp of cherishment plunges him deeper into this harmful dream-like stasis.
6. Car Seat Headrest- “Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)”
At this point in the article, you might be starting to question whether or not these songs are “life-saving.” While there is potency to finding emotional relief through intensely relatable music, I admit that I intentionally left the last two songs on more dreary notes than usual. I feel this song, however, provides me with the energy to burn these emotions into a catapulting supernova that expels all of my fear and heartache.
Car Seat Headrest’s 2018 (and 2011) album “Twin Fantasy” is not uncommon among lists of pretentious music nerds and depressed furries. I am not the first to sing its praises but it would be remiss of me to not acknowledge the presence it’s had in my life this past year or so. I could talk heavily about most if not all of the songs, but the one I’ve chosen is the title track, “Twin Fantasy (Those Boys.)”
This song follows similar themes of the past two entries in this article. It talks of acceptance of lost love and ideals, as well as an acknowledgment of the harm in such a relationship in the first place. Will Toledo, the vocalist, repeats a refrain that I feel best reflects this lack of self-care that such emotions can devolve into:
“I haven’t looked at the sun for so long, I had forgotten how much it hurt to.”
A repeating set of chords from what sounds like a muffled keyboard provides a raw backdrop for this revelation, and Will continues to talk about the innocence of such a strong desire to share love with somebody. He rebukes the obsession with sex or attraction as a scapegoat for what can oftentimes be such irrational feelings. Summing it up as a desperate urge to “be one” with another human.
In this acceptance, we can stop making ourselves feel like idiots for simple childlike needs. The “Twin Fantasy” is an irrational concept, yes. We can’t expect someone else to be exactly like us. No matter how much we project ourselves onto other humans if we can’t accept the differences in how we function, we won’t be able to see when a relationship is harming us more than helping.
Will concludes the song with a monologue about the existence of the very song itself. How it has, in a way, captured both himself and the other person in this fantasy for the rest of time. In this encapsulation, though, he can find the strength to live the rest of his life.
The song climaxes with the repeated line: “When I come back you’ll still be here,” meaning that if he ever wants to revisit this image he created, he can simply listen to this song again. During this refrain, I find myself at an emotional endpoint. It gives me the strength to face all of the pain and trauma that any experience might’ve put me through, find sympathy for all of the irrational emotions I had, and simply live the rest of my life.
7. Jeff Rosenstock- “Checkerboard Ashtray”
Another Jeff song! Yes! This is the most jubilant of my Jeff selections, and probably of his whole discography. It comes from his 2021 album “SKA DREAM,” which is a ska remake of his 2020 album “NO DREAM.” I’m in love with both versions of the album, however, the jaunty remakes with catchy horn sections give this version a leg up.
Lyrically, Jeff is in a very sentimental state while he describes quiet ramblings, menial tasks, and talking with his loved ones while they eat pizza “under the moonlight.” He describes losing track of time and the difficulty he has taking care of himself, and talks about not being able to go outside. He feels like any effort he puts into himself leads nowhere. As he admits to himself that he leans into these negative emotions willingly and “keep(s) getting sadder,” the song suddenly finds a triumphant rejection of these habits that don’t need to define him or us.
“Everything’s not just a f***ing omen.”
Once this song picks up, you’ve found yourself in a giddy haze and forget whatever made you sad. Jeff makes the point of reminding ourselves what we’re doing right because the second you search for problems you’re going to find them. Once this revelation truly kicks in, he uses the symbol of an ashtray he mentioned previously as a send-off into pure bliss.
I beseech ye to not get completely and utterly jiggy with it once he screams out “CHECKERBOARD ASHTRAY!!!” and the catchiest horn line in the world blesses your human ears. I completely lose my mind during that section of the song and plenty of my loved ones will attest to this. This is a rare song that to me, radiates pure and unbridled happiness.
8. Fleet Foxes- “Helplessness Blues”
I had heard this song long before it had a profound effect on me. For a few years, I’d been aware of the album that this song provides the title track for, “Helplessness Blues,” but it wasn’t until this past summer that this song had the chance to gut me emotionally.
A common thread I’ve found in a few of the songs I’ve chosen is the feeling of desperation. There’s something about it that gives the sense of exorcism, like a violent purging of what used to have power over you. We’re all victims of capitalism. The second we were born we all got thrown into a sack race with the sole intention of being the best at everything, and it was only about a quarter of the way through the race that some of us realized we didn’t want to run anymore. This socio-political dread radiates across the entire album and is best captured in this song.
The first half of the song is an acoustic ballad. Robin Pecknold, the lead singer, expresses that even though he was raised being taught to be unique, he’s increasingly finding the desire to simply sink into the machinery of the world, “serving something beyond me.” The choruses continually express a deep uncertainty ruling his decisions and beliefs, assuring the listener that he’ll “get back to you someday soon, you will see.”
It’s about halfway through that the song completely changes gear, and instead of rushing acoustic guitars, we are plunged into a soundscape of reverberating melodies that seem to ooze down your ears in a serenading fashion. The tempo has gone down but even though the frantic nature of the song has dissipated, it feels even more like a climax of emotion.
Robin Pecknold opens this section of the song with the lyric: “If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m raw. If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore.” This is a complete rejection of what we’ve constantly been told encapsulates us as a generation. If anything we did was worth it, if we were given a fraction of what we’d been promised, then we’d work tirelessly. This isn’t a matter of laziness, and this isn’t us refusing to work or deciding that we’re too pampered to put effort into the world. This is us being burnt out and tired of being constantly expected to crush each other into the ground, with the reward of peace and happiness being dangled in front of us like we’re animals.
I don’t need to chase around the carrots the world offers me to give myself worth. At the peak of my mental frustration and utter exhaustion with the seemingly pointless tasks that I’m expected to complete, this song reminds me that I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. I’m allowed to simply exist and even be bad at it sometimes. We all are.
9. Sufjan Stevens- “I Should Have Known Better”
Frequently, I’ve cited Sufjan Stevens to my friends as the artist that if I’m listening to him, I am not doing okay. I usually say this in a joking manner but it’s hard to ignore the truth in that statement. Admittedly I haven’t even listened to that much of his music. I cut myself some slack in that regard because he has quite a huge discography.
However, his 2017 album “Carrie and Lowell” has been one that’s slowly crept up on me over the past couple of years. Where my first listen left me a little confused and underwhelmed, more and more of the songs have congregated to provide the soundtrack for my mental collapse. The lyrics commonly address the loss of Sufjan’s mother, so grief and existentialism are very frequent threads of thought woven into the tracklist.
There are so many angles I could take with how this song (or even the whole album) has affected my life. There’s one in particular that addresses something I feel has heavily impacted my view of the world as a whole.
This song is about grief. There is very little denying that Sufjan has been extremely open about the meaning of this song. He talks about regretting not giving himself the chance to properly grieve his mother, hiding away from his feelings and therefore giving power to his “black shroud.” The melancholic guitar plucking and hushed vocals add to this beautiful yet haunting atmosphere, one that Sufjan is an expert at delivering.
The day I moved into my dorm this year, I had an experience that considerably disturbed me for a few days. Before I put my things in the car to leave, a family of rabbits suddenly scattered around as one infant writhed on the ground until it eventually stopped moving. This startling event paused everything both me and my mother were doing, initially considering leaving the bunny until we realized the mother had abandoned it. We eventually drove it to a care center of some sort, and it was there that a lady inspected it and quickly came to the conclusion that it had a fractured skull, and was beyond saving. The only reasonable assumption at that point was that I had to have been the one to cause this injury. Realizing that I caused such a violent and slow death was one thing, but I was especially disturbed by the fact that I didn’t even remember stepping on it. To hold such a fragile and innocent life in my power, and to have held it in my own hands at one point, made me feel like a careless force of destruction. It wasn’t until days later, when I visited my sister’s newborn baby, that I had to face yet again the fragility of life. I stayed several feet away. I felt like if I got an inch too close, I would abuse my existence yet again. Of course, I realized the irrationality of this thinking, but that didn’t change the raw emotion of such a feeling.
In light of the dark lyrical content of Sufjan Steven’s song, he provides a second portion in the back half. In this section, melodic synths play over Sufjan’s singing as he talks of all the beautiful things that even he can’t ignore anymore. Despite his aching feelings of regret and solitude, he observes that the past is in the past and he can’t change anything. There was one line that kept repeating itself in my head as I was able to brush away the pain and regret that plagued me every second, one that I couldn’t help but relate to for obvious reasons:
“My brother had a daughter. The beauty that she brings: Illumination.”
Walking away from the hospital, I couldn’t stop hearing the lonely but uplifting synths that provided the rhythm for the healing portion of the song. In such a short span of time I had never felt more close to the balance of life and death. Somehow the world felt just as small as it was huge. Like every step I took was more important than anything else, yet nothing would change because of it. The world is bigger than me, who am I to think I have the power to destroy it?
10. Jeff Rosenstock- “HEALMODE”
Now, we’re left with both my final Jeff Rosenstock song and the last entry on this entire list. This track comes from an album released just this past September 1st, so you can imagine that the impact it’s had on me was quite recent. Despite the album’s recent release, titled “HELLMODE,” this particular song was released about two months ago as a single before the album. I could talk extensively about every song on it, but I will focus on the one that provided me peace throughout my mental fragility.
I’m an inherently anxious person. When I’m not caving into my anxious tendencies I turn into a dull husk of indifference with no motivation to accomplish anything. Said indifference is what led me to fail every one of my classes last semester, and further buried my summer with frantic intensity and desperation, making every effort to turn in the right forms to just barely save my chances at retaining my financial aid. In this hectic state of mind, I was left with my all-too-recurring fear of loss and abandonment. The urge to cling tightly to the things and people I love lest they realize I deserve to be thrown out.
I can’t help but feel defined by the people I surround myself with and the fear that overtakes me. So when given the opportunity to spend time with and love my partner, it was hard not to let myself be flooded with the same fear that I would somehow lose it. This same anxiety ruled and frustrated me with my school responsibilities, many of these frustrations I feel were articulated well in my description of “Helplessness Blues.”
So much love, so much frustration, so much fear and so much feeling. I don’t know how many times I had near panic attacks that spiraled off themselves so much to the degree that I often forgot what gave me them.
But this song is about peace. It’s about healing. It’s about observation. Jeff Rosenstock’s poetry here is at the highest frequency it’s ever been. There’s no goalpost or grand objective with the song, it’s much like Nick Drake’s “From the Morning” where it simply desires to speak of beautiful things. It’s a lucid and sobering ballad that reminds me of all the peace and love I’ve already got. Throughout this list, I’ve described several of my doom spirals of thought that led me to each of these songs. All leading to some kind of revelation that gives me a sense of momentary peace as I listen, staring wistfully at some entrancing feature in the foreground. With “HEALMODE,” I feel like I’ve taken the power away from the terrifying thoughts that held so much power over me in the first place.
Now I can focus and find comfort in what I love. Maybe I’ll lose focus again someday, but the beautiful thing is that I’ll always have the people I love to gently guide me back into safety. Jeff describes spending time with someone, a final mantra that consistently reminds me of what I’ve had all along:
“Perfect lazy days where all you need is me, and all I need is you.”
After revisiting these corners of my psyche in such a deep fashion, and writing on the Kent campus where I already hold so many memories, it’s interesting to see how far I’ve come. Looking across the walking paths, I can’t stop seeing ghosts of me and my partner, strolling through and enjoying each other’s mere presence.
Even after yet another turning point in my mental health, sometimes it’s hard to tell what will truly stick. Fear has controlled my life for so long, and every other negative aspect will rear its ugly head from time to time. With every one of these songs, I’ve treated them like end credits. As if listening to them and dwelling on the newest thing that brings me peace will cause the credits to roll and I’ll finally get to rest. If I’ve learned anything throughout the past few years of my life, it’s that human beings don’t get the luxury of end credits. No matter how many times I put on these songs while I’m quietly ruminating and thinking about yet another grand revelation, it never fades to black. Life keeps going.
There will always be another thing that upsets me. Another thing I need to overcome. A life without conflict is a life not lived, and I can’t expect everything to be totally and completely okay now. As the days progress, more and more songs will be placed on this list. It’s up to me to stop being frustrated by this and simply learn to love putting on another song. I don’t need a climax of memories and emotion to play me off. That being said…
“CHECKERBOARD ASHTRAY!!!”
Anthony Morris is an opinion writer. Contact them at [email protected].
