I could never understand why some songs could make my eyes water.
- Radiohead — Paranoid Android, with its contradictory chords
- Thrice — Artist in the Ambulance, with its repenting, inspirational movements
- Dreamtheater — Disappear, as the harp leads to distortion in a bittersweet explosion
- Billy Talent — Nothing to Lose, with its heartwrenching chorus
- Godspeed, You Black Emperor! — Hungover as the Queen in Maida Vale, right when a single violin interrupts the sermon
- No Motiv — Born Again, when the drums kick in heavy and lead the listener to the present
- Lovage — Anger Management, with its pining soft rock melody
- The Dears — Heartless Romantic, with its thumping, distorted bass hits against the droning organ synth and dual vocals
- Elliot Smith — Waltz #2, with its steady, but heart-breaking tone
- Bad Astronaut — These Days, every time the effusive chorus rushes in
- Strung Out — Match Book, in its entire energetic hopefulness
- Postal Service — The Dream Of Evan And Chan, through all the opening lines
- Misfits — Saturday Night, as soon as the dragging guitars kick in
- Portishead — Undenied, with Beths fragile voice accompanying a simple, distorted loop
For the longest time I had assumed that it was the songs themselves, composed so well with so much pain, that would blur my vision. These songs were sad, and tears were the proper response.
Then I heard something a little different, something that was calming yet lifting. A dreamy song by Modest Mouse called Float On, that filled me with an indescribable satisfaction every time I heard it. And I realized that all these songs, as sad as they are, were making me happy.
So happy that tears are the proper response.