Music is a powerful thing, more powerful than many of us realize. Think back to a difficult time in your life, a crisis or funk that resulted from difficulties at work or the deterioration of a relationship with a friend or a lover. Now, think of the music that you fed your sad soul in the midst of your depression. Were you doing yourself any favors by filling your ears with uplifting melodies and inspiring lyrics, or were you assisting your nose-diving emotions with music even more depressed than you? Odds are, the latter will strike a chord with more of you than the former, and that is because it is a human need to seek community, which is reflected by the artists and genres of music we enjoy. Songs become the soundtracks to our lives, providing an emotional ally in the form of a vague image of an artist or a melody. The issue is that this relationship is inherently one-sided and has devastating potential.
Writing songs for depressed people is not a bad thing. Artists use their art as an outlet for their emotions, so a despairing singer may use their sickeningly sad lyricism and chord progressions as a coping mechanism to great effect. This also has a tendency to produce some of the most objectively beautiful music, with the raw emotions translated into wonderfully impactful pieces of art. And listening to melancholy music, at least on its own, is not a bad thing by any stretch. It can be enjoyed for the sole purpose of admiring the musical structure of the song, it can provide a fascinating picture of emotional trauma, and it can even transport the listener, for a short while, into the depths of personal despair. Music can be a lot like movies in that way, and there is value in using songs in small doses as an aid to experiencing the full range of human emotions, which is key to a healthy lifestyle.
Like movies and drugs, music is an addictive substance. It enhances the depth of the negative emotions that lead you to the sorrowful music in the first place, which hands you over to the clutches of a horribly depressing cycle. Most streaming platforms use this idea as part of their business model, offering up a playlist of depressing songs based on the scores of sad ones in your listening history. While this shows the ease with which a mild case of “sad boi hours” turns into a weeklong wave of gloom, the principle also works in reverse. Happy, uplifting tunes, usually sought out by those in a happy, uplifting mood, feed positive emotions. Streaming platforms are just as quick to recommend cheery tunes to cheerful people as they are miserable tunes to miserable ones. Happy people, though, seldom seek sad songs, and melancholy people find uplifting melodies difficult to embrace from the dark dungeons of depression.
The reason this topic manifested itself lies in the resolution of this almost paradoxical dilemma: If sad people only listen to sad music, which makes them more sad, and vice versa, how can the mold be broken? It seems simple, but all that is required is to “fake it until you make it.” There is something in the melodies and lyrics themselves that bolsters the emotions that they contain within the listener. While it can’t be a good idea to play emo music to force yourself into a depression from the peaks of exuberant happiness, using upbeat jazz as a method to pull yourself from the caverns of despondency is a good first step, to say the least. Personally, I recently experienced an episode of debilitating sadness, the kind that makes you want to stay in bed all day because sleeping has more to offer than waking up. Then, the clock struck midnight on Halloween and November began — it was officially the holiday season. I am not a super festive guy, but nobody can deny the infectious joy of the musical selections of December (and November). The Golden Age songs reek of joy and the newer releases are no less heartwarming. The holiday season is a celebration of all the positive human values, sharing, giving, caring and loving, and these are all reflected in the music of the season. Within a week, on Nov. 5, I was dancing like a moron walking to my 9:30 a.m. French class, mouthing the words to “Feliz Navidad.” Sure, I looked like an idiot, but I would prefer to be happy and foolish than sad and secluded any day.
Music is dangerous, especially because of the beauty that depressing songs hold. A song has more power over a person than they usually think, and it is vital to our well-being that we don’t indulge too strongly in the cycle of sadness that music can perpetuate. Rising out of a stint of misery is no small feat. Sometimes, even professional help is required. Positive music is certainly not an antidote. However, if music is the soundtrack for our existence, we each have the power to create a life that at least sounds like a good one.
Kyle Cunningham is a UF history freshman. His column appears on Fridays.
