Melancholy Mix

The Greeks thought melancholia was a disease; Shakespeare made Hamlet — aka “the Melancholy Dane” — one of the world’s all-time coolest loners; the modernists refined the condition for the 20th century . . . and our melancholy playlist assembles rock’s great miserablists under one leaking roof of sound. This ain’t no disco, and the Walker Brothers get us moving (sluggishly) to their timeless blast of perfectly harmonized unhappiness, “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore”, followed by their compadres in gloom, the Righteous Brothers, with “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” and the king of ‘70s self-pity himself, Mr. Eric Carmen, with “All by Myself”.

If loneliness is a cloak you like to wear, head over to our melancholy Next Steps.

Through music, the princes of melancholy transform their addiction to despair into sonic euphoria: Nick Drake (“Fruit Tree”) and Roy Orbsion (“It’s Over”) both perfected that art, somehow re-assembling the shards of despair into something life-affirming and utterly beautiful. Leonard Cohen brings a vibe as muddied and inspiring as the Seine on a grey autumn afternoon with “Suzanne”, while the Beach Boys forsake the California sunshine for a bout of prolonged indoor introspection on “In My Room” and Randy Newman — another West Coast resident who can bring delightfully dark clouds to the sunniest of horizons — plays weatherman on the gorgeously sad “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today”.

Our well of melancholy is bottomless, thanks to the likes of Tim Hardin and Richard Hawley, in Deep Cuts.

Having the blues is one thing: feeling so blue that you’re stricken with the (melan)-collywobbles is quite another. Here, the poets of misery really excel themselves, whether it’s Tim Hardin (who never saw his 40th year) on “How Can We Hang On to a Dream”, or Richard Hawley, whose rich, lived-in baritone can do little to lighten the fact that “The Sun Refused to Shine”. Still, there’s always Skeeter Davis, who brought a naive charm to “The End of the World” in 1962, sounding much younger than her 30 years, and Emmylou Harris, whose gorgeously clear vocal on “Someone Like You” is so pretty it almost makes a mockery of melancholy.

Some of the most beautiful tunes in the world have their source in some of our darkest emotions. Let’s face it, suffering often brings out the best in creative people . . . unless you prefer to argue that geniuses are born to suffer: it’s just in their nature. The upshot of widespread melancholy for you, the lover of pop pain, is a playlist as enthralling and heart wrenching as any we’ve ever compiled. With these tracks, sweet melancholy never hurt so good, so draw down the blinds, turn up the sounds, and wallow in the spirit-lifting sadness of Fairport Convention (“Who Knows Where the Time Goes?”), Frank Sinatra (“One for My Baby”), Dusty Springfield (“I Don’t Want to Hear It Anymore”), Chet Baker (“The Thrill Is Gone”) and their many companions in blissful woe.