Top Songs About Grief

"Everybody hurts." - Michael Stipe

This week officially marks one year since the beginning of the end for my social life, isolating from friends and family not long after. Loss has manifested itself in many ways during this pandemic — loss of loved ones, loss of hope, loss of energy, loss of health (physical or mental), loss of who we used to be — so we should be allowed to mourn all of it.

Outside of the gloom that comes with fighting a virus in the dead of winter, this time of year typically brings a familiar sense of grief for me. My grandfather passed away in January 2014 and I lost my grandmother shortly after in February 2016. It was difficult confronting death for the first time, especially in such close succession, though I’ve learned to channel that grief through music and cope with songs that make me feel seen and not alone.

While we all may be grieving in our own way now, I wanted to share a playlist that hopefully offers some catharsis — because we should never be ashamed of feeling sad whenever.

Here’s a breakdown of my top songs:

1. “Space Oddity,” David Bowie (Space Oddity, 1969)
   As a well-known fan of the Starman, it would make sense for this song to top my list on the fifth anniversary of his death. The song itself follows an astronaut into space as he drifts further from Earth and soon accepts his fate with death. However, I have a much more visceral connection to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” than one would think.

   On the night of my grandmother’s passing, after that hard goodbye in the hospital, I drove home alone and turned on the radio to hear this song. Considering how Bowie had died just one month prior, it might not seem very coincidental, but it felt like a sign that I needed at the time. It helped me process the loss that I had experienced just one hour earlier, vocalizing the parting words of a loved one as they ascended from our plane of existence (I'm feeling very still / And I think my spaceship knows which way to go / Tell my wife I love her very much / She knows). I always think of that night when I hear this song, especially how it helped me make sense of this pain until it became acceptance, and I will forever remember my grandmother with each listen.

   It’s safe to say that David Bowie is the doorman to my soul, so I hope this song can offer you safe passage through tough times too.

2. “I Know The End,” Phoebe Bridgers (Punisher, 2020)
   If you’re looking for an artist who can get you through a rough time, look no further than Phoebe Bridgers. While most struggled to feel productive during quarantine, Phoebe produced some of her most prolific work in 2020 as a path through this crisis. With last year’s release, Punisher, she explores the complex emotions stirred up by the pandemic, particularly on “I Know The End” as she peers through the lens of an apocalypse.

   Throughout the song, Phoebe depicts scenes of desolation that follow various characters until the world ends (The billboard said "The End Is Near" / I turned around, there was nothing there / Yeah, I guess the end is here). Her lyrics communicate this mutual exchange of doom and ennui as the horns deliver an urgency that encourages the listener to unburden themselves from the hurt. (PSA: Women are allowed to express their anger and smash guitars if they feel like it.)

3. “This House,” Japanese Breakfast (Soft Sounds from Another Planet, 2017)
   Another artist whose work belongs on this list is Japanese Breakfast (aka Michelle Zauner). In addition to her 2016 debut, Psychopomp — which explored the sudden death of her mother — Japanese Breakfast’s Soft Sounds from Another Planet continues to navigate sinuous stories of loss and heartache.

   On the album’s eleventh track, “This House,” she examines how the absence of a late relative and a lost love feed into each other, augmenting her feelings of anguish (This house is full of women / Playing guitar, cooking breakfast / Sharing trauma, doing dishes / And where are you?) In some capacity, according to Michelle, this ballad intersects with a particular grief caused by the loss of innocence, longing for “a time when you were younger and felt more and didn't think so much about death all the time.” The simple guitar and piano melody carry her weary vocals in a way that feels like a cathartic breath for the listener, lulling them into a twilight moment of peace.

4. “Godspeed,” Frank Ocean (Blond, 2016)

   While James Blake’s cover of this song is lovely in its own right, Frank Ocean will forever remain the captain of my heart with “Godspeed.”

   The beauty of Blond’s penultimate track is its versatility — it can punctuate moments of either heartbreak or hope with hushed tones. In this song, Frank mourns the loss of a lover (or arguably his youth) through religious imagery, crying out for a memory in that first verse (I will always love you how I do / Let go of a prayer for you / Just a sweet word / The table is prepared for you). I find myself looping this song when confronted with times of change, good or bad: leaving my hometown, moving to a new city, starting a new relationship, walking away from a bad one. Human emotion is made of peaks and valleys, and Frank builds the bridge that can safely lead anyone through that landscape.

5. “New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down,” LCD Soundsystem (Sounds of Silver, 2007)

   Out of all the songs on LCD Soundsystem’s sophomore album, it might seem weird to choose this one over “Someone Great,” which is literally written about the death of a loved one. However, I believe Sound of Silver’s closer is equally deserving of being classified as a song about grief — not of a person or of a period, but of a place.

   As a complicated love letter to New York City, James pines for the seedier days beneath the skyline (New York, you're safer and you're wasting my time / Our records all show you were filthy but fine) while also praising it in its later gentrified form (New York, you're perfect, oh, please don't change a thing). This clear contradiction does read as sarcastic — in true Brooklynite fashion — but the message is still an honest one: How can you feel like you’ve lost something you love when it never left?

   In the last year, I’ve come to really identify with this song. As a New York expat, while I agree that The Big Apple isn’t dead, I watched from the sidelines as my home succumbed to this virus in a way that crippled its thriving culture. The city’s spirit is strong, so there’s no question it will bounce back, but I’m afraid the streets will feel very different once it’s safe to return. “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down” helps me cope with losing the city as I once knew it while staying true to my love for it.

   Of course, you don’t need to carry a MetroCard at all times to believe you can own this song — its message applies for all places we’ve loved, lost or helped to endure. In particular, I wanted to dedicate this song to my friends in Texas as they power through this storm. (You can find info and resources here on how to support Texas.)

   We shouldn’t hide from feeling any sort of grief because it’s our human right. Find gratitude in times of sadness and know that you’ll come out of it even stronger than before.