Songs that Sorrow Sings

I will make a brief interruption in the way this blog has traditionally presented its posts by dedicating this one not to only one song but to various songs. These songs are songs I have realized I always seem to end up singing no matter what (but usually under melancoholic circumstances). I want to note how when there's a song that really touches you there are certain words that you wait for more than others and that one gives a special emphasis to when singing them. These are not, of course, necessarily the songs I like the most nor the ones that are necessarily most significative in my life; they just happen to be songs that are constantly played and replayed when booze has ignited passionate remembrance. So here you are, in no particular order, just a bit from my own personal, endless playlist of afterhour drunken classics, to you, dear and loyal reader.





"don't carry the world upon your shoulders"



"but all the things that you've seen
will slowly fade away"



"it's such a shame for us to part"



"I'm tired of the song that sorrow sings"




"and if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
to die by your side
it's such a heavenly way to die"



"...if I thought that you would stay..."



"...and the whores like a choir
go 'Uh!'"

Life On Mars, as performed by Neil Hannon and Yann Tiersen

Hay canciones a las que recurrimos como remedios milenarios. Son armas secretas, refugios seguros, salvavidas, extinguidores tras cristales que rompemos una y otra vez. Hay canciones que son plegarias y mantras. Nos recuerdan quienes somos y de dónde venimos. Cuando las cosas se ponen borrosas y las emociones son demasiadas y casi olvidamos quiénes solíamos ser volvemos a ellas como el sobreviviente se aferra al pedazo de madera que ha quedado del naufragio.

Maps, by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

She knew that tequila wasn't really his thing, but still that cold november night, she opened a bottle of Herradura. The reason? Maybe there was no reason. At least not for her. They had been at a mutual friend's party earlier. Around one in the morning she grew bored and told him: "Let's go to my place". So, they drove across the city, small-talking. When they got her place, she went to the kitchen and took out two glasses. Caballitos were never her thing. While she was pouring down the beverage, he observed her. They went out to the garden and drank. Not a word was spoken from either one of them. They didn't look at each other. They just sat there, drinking, feeling the cold breeze. She always out-drank him. No matter what the beverage was, he would always lose when he was drinking with her. By four in the morning, he rose and told her: "Gotta go". "Don't you want to sleep over?". He smiled and said nothing. They were too drunk. That would make them break their truce, their pact. He just kissed her goodnight and stepped out of the house. While he was driving home, radio threw away "Maps", he just pulled over and took him one hour to get himself together. After that night he couldn't see her in the eyes again.

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