Heartache and Heartbreak

As I often do when I sit down to write, I put my tunes on. And since this is a music column, naturally, I put the music on today to come up with a theme, because I didn't really have one.

And I'm thinking, "That's great. Two weeks into this, and I'm fresh out of ideas. Some blog."

Then, the Marshall Tucker Band's "Can't You See" came on. I'm not one for country rock ... usually. I won't say I hate it, but but it's not generally the music I listen to when I really need, as the Rolling Stones would say, an emotional rescue.

But there it was. I love the song anyway, and I'd love it even if I didn't know what it was about. First, I love flutes. I love Jethro Tull, and I love the Moody Blues, and Traffic, and MTB. And the flute is the first thing that got me with this song.

But I got to really listening to the words. They're not particularly profound. You don't need Cliff's Notes to figure out what they mean. Actually, they're pretty raw.

I like raw. Particularly this verse: "I'm gonna find me/a hole in the wall/I'm gonna crawl inside and die/Come a later now/a mean ol' woman, Lord/never told me goodbye."

It helps to know the author wrote the song about his former girlfriend, who shot herself and shot the couple's dog in a unique murder/suicide. Lovely.

But don't those lyrics just cry out "despair?"

Music ... all music ... probably wouldn't exist if it weren't for heartache and heartbreak. It's the soundtrack of all our emotions, really. There isn't a single episode on my life, especially a sad one, that doesn't spring to mind if I hear a certain song.

For example, I can't hear "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues without thinking about my freshman year of college, when I was crushing madly on a girl from Connecticut named Melinda ... who, as you might have guessed, returned my affections with considerably less gusto and enthusiasm.

But Melinda did tell me she liked opera, and that one of the local companies was performing Puccini's "Tosca" (a little highbrow cultural reference to impress you all). I'd never heard of it. Outside of "Carmen," and that's only because of the "March of the Toreadors," I couldn't name one.

So I did what any totally infatuated 18-year-old would do. I went to the opera house and bought two tickets. Then, I went to Melinda's dorm and asked her if she'd like to go with me.

She turned me down.

I ended up giving the tickets away. But that's not why I remember "Nights."

I remember it because the next day, still enormously depressed over being summarily rejected, I went into the Northeastern University bookstore to find an economics book the professor had assigned us to read. But our bookstore didn't have it. Try the Harvard Coop, I was told.

That was OK with me. Road trips in and around Boston always cleared my head. They still do.

I found the book at the Coop, took my place in line, and noticed there was some very exotic music playing from what appeared to be an elaborate Sensurround speaker system. The music just came out of everywhere.

What I was hearing was the "Sunset/Twilight Time" cuts from the Moodies' "Days of Future Passed."

When "Nights" came on, I recognized it. And man, did it just fit my mood! It's not exactly an uplifting song anyway, with a very haunting flute and perhaps the most angst-ridden "I love you" ever recorded. Not to mention that the crescendo that leads to the "Late Lament" poem that closes the album is, at the same time, heartbreaking and breathtaking.

Usually, when I'm feeling emotional, songs like "Nights in White Satin" really bring it to the surface. In fact, as I mentioned in the initial post here, it's one of only three songs in recorded rock history that make me stop in my tracks and just listen.

Now, there's been considerable discussion about how and why Justin Hayward of the Moodies wrote this. He was 19 (and, as an aside, how must it feel to have hit your creative and commercial peak before you even hit 20?) and in between relationships.

He sat up one night, unable to sleep, and composed the song to reflect his state of mind about ending one relationship and perhaps beginning another one.

I'd also heard, somewhere, that the title was inspired by the song "In the Still of the Night" by the Five Satins, but I think the Moody-philes have settled on this: He was trying to sleep on a new set of white satin sheets he'd been given, and between his mental anguish and his difficulty adjusting to the sheets, he just couldn't.

Anyway, "Can't You See" and "Nights in White Satin" are two of my favorite (if that's a term you can use here) songs about heartache and heartbreak, which is the topic of today's discussion.

Here are some others songs that make my list of the most profoundly sad songs about heartache and heartbreak:


"Aimee," by the Pure Prairie League is a breezy, country-rock song by the group whose main contribution to music might have been that it gave us Vince Gill (though not on this record). But right off the bat, we get to the issue. Aimee and our singer just can't seem to connect. He keeps falling in and out of love with her, and he's reached the point where he wants to try to make it work. But, as he sings, "you're off with someone else and I'm alone."

And I have to tell you ... when you're crushing on someone, or if you sense something's about to end, the knowledge that the person you're crazy about is out having a good time with someone else while you're home stewing over it is just torture.

"If You Could Read My Mind," By Gordon Lightfoot is an awfully sad song. It just tears the heart right out of you.

There's a personal story behind this song too, because it came out my senior year of high school, all while I was trying to work up the nerve to ask my sister's best friend to the prom.

And, just like with "Nights," those memories are indelible. She went with me. Win. We never went out again. Fail. And when I hear the mellow acoustic guitar opening to the song, I always have to brace myself.

Gordon says he wrote this about his divorce, and that certainly sounds right. It speaks to a relationship that's suddenly grown cold and distant. "I don't know where we went wrong, but the feeling's gone, and I just can't get it back."

If anyone ever said that to me, or even if I ended up feeling that way toward someone else I've loved for a long time, I really don't know what I'd do either.

Another song that speaks to divorce is "Fortress Around Your Heart" by Sting. It's heavy on visuals and metaphors, but he's said that it's about the pain that surrounded the dissolution of his first marriage.

Sting said it was about the walls he set up to protect his ex-wife when he, and The Police, first started getting famous. The point is that now that the marriage had begun falling apart, he had to penetrate that fortress he'd elaborately constructed, and it had become impossible.

I think this about sums it up: "This prison has now become your home/A sentence you seem prepared to pay."

One of the sadder songs, to me, is "Silver, Blue and Gold" by Bad Company. This one's just full of lines that can absolutely crush your heart. But to me, the most painful one is this: "Oh the time that it takes for a love to grow cold/Is a wonder to me/I'm walking around with my head hanging down/Tell me where is she?"

Sometimes, the dynamic just changes. There's a different vibe. It might take a while for it to all come out in the wash, but it's there. And it can absolutely make you crazy..

And, of course, is there a more plaintive plea than "Don't forsake me 'cause I love you?" How many times have we all had people we've loved completely cut us out of their lives.

When George Harrison recorded the album "All Things Must Pass," it was filled mostly with songs that had been rejected by the Beatles. One of them was the title song.

The day after he died, CBS showed an old clip of Harrison on a talk show, and of all the songs he could have played, that's the one he chose.

I think it's his best song. It's all about how nothing ever stays the same ... including love.

You could read the song a couple of ways. One interpretation, of course, is that it was a veiled reference to his belief that all this "Beatles" stuff had to end eventually, because nothing lasts forever.

But, he also says that sometimes, love doesn't last forever either. I suppose it's little consolation to someone who's just been told "It's over." But there it is. All things must pass. He keeps saying "it's not always going to be this grey," but that's a tough concept to grasp while you're going through such a change. You get it, eventually. But not right away.

And on a personal note, if there's a song in the rock repertoire that can make me want to cry in a heartbeat, it's this one.

About 20 or so years ago, maybe more, Chris Isaak burst onto the scene with a song called "Wicked Game." I'm sure we all remember the video of him cavorting around the beach with this super-model chick. In 1991, videos didn't have the capacity to go viral the way they do today, but this one got a lot of notoriety just the same ... more for the images on the beach than what the song was actually about.

But listen to it (that's why I've provided links for all these songs). There's just a wealth of self-flagellation material in this one, starting with "strange what desire will make foolish people do."

"What a wicked game to play/to make me feel this way/what a wicked thing you do, to make me dream of you/what a wicked thing to say/you never felt this way/what a wicked thing you do/to make me dream of you."

Can that be any sadder? That whole song is about how he didn't want to fall in love with the woman, but couldn't help himself ... and once he was good and hooked, she turned around and walked away. Wow.

Then there's this one: "Junkie" by 100 Monkeys. Now, I don't want to take credit for being hip here. It was recommended to me by someone who's much hipper than I could ever be. It's an interesting song. It's along the lines of "Should I Stay or Should I go" by the Clash (not part of this list) in that the lyrics are extremely biting.

Ever since you left me/I won't pick up the phone/ Every single time I do/Someone asks me if you're home/And I have to say no/They have to ask where did you go."

It's bad enough that it's over. But having to explain to everyone why it's over, or when it ended, is 10 times worse. It's easy to see why you'd just want to curl up into the fetal position and shut the world out.

Before I get to the final three "heart of hearts" on the list of "heartache and heartbreak" songs here's a list of honorable mentions (you'll have to find your own links on these): "Heartbreak Hotel," Elvis Presley; "Don't They Know It's the End of the World" by Skeeter Davis; "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone, Bill Withers (with all the "I knows" in it); Roy Orbison (take your pick, but "Crying" and "It's Over" are the two that most readily come to mind); "Caroline, No!" by the Beach Boys; and "I'm So Lonesome I could Cry" by Hank Williams.

Now ... for the final three (to go along with the first two songs on this list):

"Tangled up in Blue" by Bob Dylan sure sounds as if it's a song about his old days in and around the New York folk scene. There's a Montague Street in New York (well, it's in Brooklyn, actually), and the folk movement blossomed in the cafes around Greenwich Village in the early sixties. Those were heady times, and, as we've already seen from the numerous stories and biographies about the man, Bob Dylan was no stranger to entangled relationships (See "Boots of Spanish Leather").

Regret runs through this song like a raging river. He paints vignettes of a relationship he had with a women ... one that ended badly. But the key line is this "And when, finally, the bottom fell out I became withdrawn/the only thing I could think to do was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew/tangled up in blue."

And that's it. You put one foot in front of the other, and keep going forward. There isn't much else you can do.

The Young Rascals came out with "How Can I Be Sure" in either 1966 or 1967 (I don't remember). It isn't about heartbreak as much as it is about heartache. Have you ever wondered, as you find yourself falling head over heals for someone, where you stand? You can think of little else, and you start wondering whether this person you're spending all your time thinking about feels the same way.

Here's a sampling: "How do I know?/Maybe you're trying to use me/Flying too high can confuse me/Touch me but don't take me down."

That's the wonderful thing about music. Someone like Eddie Brigati (who wrote the song) can just touch the emotions of so many. Wonderfully sad song!

I was the king of teenage crushes. As a result, I found myself thinking about that song a lot!

For perhaps the most universally famous song about heartache and heartbreak, we turn to Eric Clapton and "Layla." For this, I've provided the link to the original cut, as opposed to the slowed-down "Unplugged" version broadcast on VH-1.

I think we all know what it's about, but for those who don't: Eric Clapton was profoundly in love with George Harrison's ex-wife, Patti Boyd. He wrote the song about his unrequited love for her, and based it on an Arab tale about a princess, Layla, who was forced to marry someone other than the man who was passionately in love with her.

Every verse of this song is heartbreaking. But the one that jumps out at me is this: "I tried to give you consolation/When your old man had let you down./Like a fool, I fell in love with you,/Turned my whole world upside down."

This has all the elements ... damsel in distress, white knight, and that long, lurching road to hell that takes place when you ride to the rescue once too often and develop an infatuation.

And of course, "Layla, you've got me on my knees" pretty much says it all, doesn't it?

A couple of interesting music things about that song. First, the song was written and recorded in 1970 by Derek and the Dominos, with Duane Allman playing slide guitar. But it didn't achieve chart success until two years later, by which time Duane Allman had died.

Second, the long piano coda at the end was written not by Clapton, but by Jim Gordon. Clapton never performs it in concerts.

Anyway, these are my top heartache/heartbreak songs. Some of these feelings I actually experienced when, in high school and college, I seemed to fall in and out of love every five minutes. Others have dealt with friends and/or colleagues who have had their dreams and fantasies shattered by fractured relationships.

I hope you enjoyed this. And feel free to chime in with yours.

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I've added a few, based on some feedback I got, and a few others I'd forgotten about that really seem appropriate.

The Beatles did their share of angst-ridden breakup songs. But none of them as mature, and stark, as Paul McCartney's "For No One."

"The day breaks, your mind aches, there will be times when all the things she said will fill your head/you won't forget her."

And that's it, really. You play these tapes in your head over and over, wondering what you did wrong, and how, or why, it was wrong.

Just about the enire "Rumours" album by Fleetwood Mac is about breakups ... Stevie Nicks' and Lindsay Buckingham's and Christine and John McVie's. There's lots of good material to choose from. "Go Your Own Way" is certainly the most bitter of the three, basically an "eff-you" song to Nicks. And "Silver Spring," by was Nicks' song Buckingham ... and he fought, and succeeded, in keeping the song off the album.

But I'm going with these two: "Gold Dust Woman" and "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow."

Stevie Nicks says to this day, she has no idea what "Gold Dust Woman" is about, except that there was cocaine involved. I'd suggest, though, that like just about everything else involved in that album, there were residual feelings about Buckingham that cropped up. How else would you explain this: "Did she make you cry/make you break down/shatter your illusions of love/is it over now/do you know how/to pick up the pieces and go home?"

"Don't Stop" was written by Christine McVie and dealt with how heartbroken John McVie was at the breakup of their marriage. It was her plea that he cheer up, and look forward rather.

It's become an anthem of optimism, of course, helped immeasurably by Bill Clinton using it as his 1992 campaign song. But it deals with some pretty raw emotions. The fact that it has a barrel house boogie background probably hides the rawness of the song very well, but it's there.

In contrast, we have James Taylor's "Fire and Rain," which kind of connects two or three different episodes in his life, particularly the suicide of a friend (Suzanne). But its chorus unites all the elements: "I've seen fire and I've seen rain/I've seen lonely days that I thought would never end/I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend/But I always thought that I'd see you again.

Here's one you just have to listen to. It has the lyrics written into the video, but they really don't do the song justice. You have to really HEAR it to understand the aguish. It's "Sometime around Midnight" by the Airborne Toxic Event.

Like I said ... it doesn't need a description. It needs a listen

And finally, "Midnight Confessions" by the Grass Roots seems to be an unlikely song about heartache and heartbreak. But what do do when the object of your affections is married, or otherwise taken:

"There's a little gold ring that you wear on your hand/that makes me understand/there's another before me/you'll never be mine/I'm wasting my time."

Or, from another perspective (England Dan and John F. Coley's), "It's sad to belong to someone else when the right one comes along."