The Magic Of Melancholy Music

January 2010 saw the release of Eels’ 8th studio album End Times. Lauded by fans and critics alike as Mark “E” Everett’s magnum opus, End Times’ subject matter is anything but celebratory; each of the albums 12 tracks revolve around the theme of the breakdown of a marriage, indeed E has referred to it as his “divorce album”.

Last year Noah and the Whale’s second album ‘The First Days of Spring” was (correctly) considered one of 2009’s best due to Charlie Fink’s unflinching honesty in the face of his acrimonious split with Laura Marling. Perhaps the most oft-quoted example of the “great break-up album” is Dylan’s imperious masterpiece “Blood On The Tracks”, but there are many more, lesser known examples, that have been praised just as much by music fans. Nick Cave’s The Boatman’s Call, Ryan Adams’ subtly titled Heartbreaker and Duke Special’s Songs from the Deep Forest, all follow the same equally well-trodden, but nonetheless strikingly plaintive path of heartache.

Such critical acclaim for End Times (which mirrors that for Electro-Shock Blues, Eels even more harrowing second album) and those records mentioned above begs the question; just exactly what it is about melancholy and music that fans and critics alike find so alluring and compelling? Is it catharsis, the courage to confront one’s demons? Do we take a perverse gratification in the figure of the tortured artist, or are we simply infinitely intrigued by others airing their dirty laundry in public?

Essentially it matters not; the fact that we the audience can find solace in the tortured outpourings of a troubled muse, proves what a gift it is to be able to release an album with themes as hard-hitting as Blood on the Tracks or End Times, and not only address them, but do them justice.

To quote Morrissey when referencing this scenario would be far too predictable but as ever the king miserablist’s lexis is marvellously appropriate. On arguably the finest 6 minutes of the 1980s, I Know It’s Over, Steven Patrick croons, “I know it’s over/ and it never really began/but in my heart it was so real”, and herein lies the answer to the seemingly rhetorical question just asked. The reason we appreciate the magic of melancholy is that these artists have the ability to make us, the listener feel something ‘so real’, removing us from a world of vapid obscurity.

End times? That’s just the start of it. 

My top ten melancholy albums of all time: