Sara Brenes-Akerman | Finding the glad in sad songs

Whether it’s Frank Sinatra crooning about his loneliness in the early morning or Joni Mitchell singing about intense heartbreak — listening to sad music is one of few ways to be publicly vulnerable.

Most people are uncomfortable in the face of intense emotion. Crying is usually done in private. But sad songs give us an excuse to break the rules and are comforting in moments of sorrow.

If the popular Saturday Night Live skit is any indication, the sound of “Someone Like You,” by songstress extraordinaire Adele, allows for collective crying.

I’ve never been lucky enough to attend an Adele concert, but I’m pretty sure that when the “Someone Like You” portion of the night comes along, no one is judged or gazed at for shedding some tears.

A hormone, prolactin, might explain why some enjoy sorrowful music, David Huron, a music cognition researcher, said in an interview with The National.

When you feel grief because something grief-worthy has happened, your body releases prolactin as a way to help you deal with it, Huron said. The hormone has a consoling psychological effect, producing a “warm, glowing, comforting feeling.” It caps the sadness, making it more controllable.

In the Wee Small Hours, released in 1955, was Frank Sinatra’s ninth studio album. He released it, many said, in response to his final break-up with actress Ava Gardner. They shared a much-publicized relationship that was often referred to as “tumultuous” and “tempestuous”— they broke up and reconciled often before their final parting.

It is, in many ways, the saddest album you’ll ever listen to. It is also one of the most beautiful. You can hear Frank’s pain loud and clear as he sings, “In the wee small hours of the morning, while the whole wide world is fast asleep, you lie awake and think about the girl.”

According to Huron it might be possible for music to put you in a “sham state of sadness.” This process induces the prolactin release and provides you with the benefits of it without having to endure any real suffering.

No one does sad like Joni Mitchell. There’s hardly a more seminal album for sad music lovers than her 1971 release, Blue. It only takes a bit of Joni, with all of her unapologetic vulnerability, to melt my insides. I dare anyone to listen to “A Case of You” closely and not feel at least a little bit devastated by it. She’s completely exposed and completely heartbroken.

And yet, among the profound grief, there is also something redeeming about her honesty. Her lyrics show an understanding that “part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time.” Romantic failure never sounded quite so stunning.

Whether you seek or avoid sad music depends on your personality. People who score high on “openness”— those who are open to new experiences — tend to enjoy it more. Similarly, those who are “rather neurotic,” might find themselves listening to sad songs more often than their less neurotic peers. A 2011 study suggests that levels of empathy might also be part of the mix.

Famously recorded in a solitary Wisconsin winter cabin, For Emma, Forever Ago, is Bon Iver’s 2007 debut album.

There is an unmistakable sense that something is being mourned. The Pitchfork review said it “exudes such a strong sense of loneliness and remoteness that you might infer some tragedy behind it.”

In a study titled “Who enjoys listening to music and why?” 148 listeners were surveyed. The results indicated that “although sadness was the most salient emotion experienced (in response to sad excerpts), other emotions such as nostalgia, peacefulness and wonder were also clearly evident.”

I’ve always gravitated toward the sad side of the music spectrum. But science shows there are positive things to be gained from partaking in other people’s misery.

For me, it’s an excuse to cry, a way to create a sense of shared experience and a chance to be exposed — if only for the duration of one song.

Sara Brenes-Akerman is a College senior from Costa Rica. Her email address is sarabre@sas.upenn.edu. A Likely Story appears every other Thursday.

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