2018's top soft songs for sad kids

there are some people who turn to music in difficult times to raise their spirits. whether it’s pharell’s dictatorial insistence that we all be happy in the face of unspeakable evils, walk the moon’s fable that a strange woman will drag you onto the dancefloor and out of your malaise, or mr. kelly’s insistence that no matter what, there is always an afterparty. then, there are those like me who reject this notion fundamentally.

no, instead i am of an ilk who feels ennui and melancholy bubbling up and immediately reaches for radiohead. for us, sad times call for not an antidote, but a soundtrack. this does not come from stubbornness or self-sabotage, but instead the belief that sometimes our despondency isn’t an unnecessary inconvenience, it’s a place we’re supposed to live for a little bit. by listening to sad music, we find connection and reassurance that these emotions are normal and universal.

we are the sad kids.

with 2018 winding down, the annual “year end lists” have started to roll out from every publication with a music reviewer. like every year, they feel compelled to choose their favorite tracks and favorite albums, sometimes divided by genre or other mechanism. but i’ve found one particular category absent, and am here to correct it.

the category we need is soft songs for sad kids, and here are my favorites of 2018

“Friday I’m In Love” – Phoebe Bridgers

while it’s true that chris thile’s “breathy acoustic covers” series is probably the smartest thing in musical comedy right now, it’s also true that a good breathy acoustic cover can still pack a punch. joined by another 2018 sad kid awardee, gabriel kahane, bridgers takes the cure’s timeless tribute to working for the weekend and reimagines it as a wistful reflection on the passing of time. instead of driving towards friday, this version floats on bridgers’ self-harmonies and kahane’s minimal instrumentation. it breaks us out of the vicious weekly cycle by creating a space we feel comfortable crawling into and staying for awhile.

“Time” – Angelo De Augustine

angelo de augustine first premiered this song in a live recording accompanied by sad kid diety sufjan stevens and a room thick with incense smoke, so it’s no surprise the studio version found its way onto this list. it’s another track making melancholy magic by examining the unceasing passage of its title topic. de augustine pulls off the tricky feat of placing a whistle in the song that’s neither unearned nor trite, but instead a perfect recreation of the type of tune that spills out of your lips on a stroll alone through your neighborhood in the morning. “Now you’re back in your hideout / Never gave it all for free / Everyone was talking to ya,” he sings near the beginning of the tune, a warm outreach to everyone ready to close the door to their apartment and escape the outside world, feeling overtaken by some soft tunes.

“Holding Hands” – The Magic Lantern

kicking off a song with only saxophone trio and vocals is such a bold, ingenious move, I’m angry that it isn’t a whole genre of music that I can listen to for hours. instead i had to be content with returning to this track over and over throughout the year. the intro flows freely and naturally, with the reedy saxophones forming chord after beautiful chord. by the time the drums enter, i’m so drawn into the song that I’m willing to go anywhere it takes me. someone please take this type of arrangement and make it a genre (saxcore?).

“Slow Disco – piano version” – St. Vincent

if this were a list of sad kid albums instead of songs, st. vincent’s “massEducation” would have appeared in full. with 2018’s co-sad-kid winner thomas bartlett, annie clark took her 2017 electro-pop masterpiece “masseduction” and stripped it down to just piano and vocals. now, instead of conjuring images of clark as a sexual and cynical techno-hybrid from her masseduction tour, the same songs come off with the sensibility of a resigned lounge singer finishing up her set in a sparsely attended nightclub. with this new worldview, we see the “slow disco” in perspective, as a place where we not only get hurt by the noise and madness, but also come together to escape dealing with our inevitable demises alone. after years of st. vincent breaking new terrain in the guitar-rock world, there’s something comforting about hearing clark take a step closer to her jazz-tinged roots. she is currently taking the arrangements live in an extremely limited set of shows in new york, including a sold-out performance at lincoln center. here’s hoping to more concert opportunities in 2019.

“Festina” — Thomas Bartlett, Nico Muhly

thomas bartlett aka doveman should be given an honorary lifetime achievement award for turning the entire footloose soundtrack into sad kid songs. but along with friend nico muhly, he definitely deserves a technical achievement award for doing the same with interpretations of traditional ceremonial balinese music. we hear mallets that sound like they could have been lifted straight from a steve reich piece pound an incessant pulse. meanwhile, behind breathy background vocals, bartlett cautions in a whisper that “You’re moving much too fast,” a piercing message of mindfulness for anyone in 2018, in how we tackle our lives, our relationships, and ourselves. and yet, at the same time, we feel in the many layers how that motion blur can create something beautiful. but even so, barlett warns, “This feeling can’t last.” no matter how we are moving, something will be lost. if all this feels like too much to handle, it’s always fair game to return to the kenny loggins.

“Mean to Me” – Stella Donnelly

in contemporary singer-songwriter arrangements, there’s nothing that bowls me over more than a stunning, bare duet between electric guitar and female vocals (see: margaret glaspy, lianne la havas, etc.). stella donnelly picks up the mantle and runs with it, even if I can’t help but imagine her playing it with a mouthful of noodles like in the album art. her stunning voice is only matched by the honest subtlety of her lyrics (“I can’t have fun while you’re not having fun / And you don’t seem to have much fun when I’m around”). the familiar feeling of discontent in a relationship is taken to heights and valleys, with a howling vocal solo in the middle. by the end of my first listen, the song’s confrontational premise felt distant, as donnelly had won me over to her side.

“Futures” – Darlingside

i’m still not sure how this song pulls off being a soft song, given that it’s got such a bouncy beat behind a rich instrumentation. somehow, the thick harmonies combine with a rhythm driven by percussive guitar strumming to form the rare hopeful-sad song. the refrain of “It’s not ever too late” is the perfect mantra to connect with at those low-points of regret or doubt. we truly do not deserve four-part all-male vocal harmonies this tight, and yet we get them.

“Little Love” – Gabriel Kahane

a bit of a cheat to get to rope into 2018, since i first got to see gabriel kahane perform this song live as a part of his 2017 stage show “8980: book of travelers.” the evening (and resulting album) followed a train trip kahane took after the 2016 election to try to understand more about the divides in america. but what stuck with me after the performance had little to do with our country, but instead the deeply human portraits painted by kahane’s songs. in between all the momentum of a train trip, “little love” stood as a moment of piece and beauty. i listen to it and picture one member of a couple unable to sleep, leaning over in their train seat to cuddle their partner’s shoulder, as the night sky rolls by outside. it’s an antidote to all the songs on this list that draw unrest from the passing of time; instead, it depicts a moment of perfect contentment as one’s time runs out. it’s hard to imagine a song more delicate, earnest, and precious.

“Night Shift” – Lucy Dacus

this one is definitely cheating its way onto the list, since after its first few verses, “night shift” abandons any sense of being a soft song for sad kids and embraces itself as a loud song for defiant kids. but there’s no rule that says sad kid music can’t let its emotions out as anger, rebirth, belting. by the time dacus hits her final promise that “ You got a nine to five, so I’ll take the night shift,” reorganizing work hours sounds like a universal act of resistance for the ages. this album ended up on a lot of year-end lists, and i couldn’t be happier. let’s hope this one becomes a sad kid anthem for the ages.

Late-to-the-game honorable mentions

(soft songs for sad kids that I discovered in 2018 but weren’t released this year)

“Waste” by Oh Wonder

“About a Bruise” by Iron and Wine

“Father Father” by Laura Mvula

“Waiting (PAL Remix)” by Alice Boman / PAL

“Avril 14th” by Aphex Twin

“Mythological Beauty” by Big Thief