Nobody does sad like Ryan Adams

My friend Steve and I were having a conversation the other day about the greatest break-up songs of all time, and while we both agreed that "Divorce Song," by Liz Phair, "Gone For Good" by The Shins, "Since U Been Gone" by Kelly Clarkson, "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" by Colin Hay, "Hit The Road Jack" by Ray Charles, and of course, "Always On My Mind" by Willie Nelson were serious contenders, after several beers, it was decided that Ryan Adams "Come Pick Me Up" just might take the first place ribbon. (It didn't hurt that Steve is gay and has something of a crush on Mr. Adams.) I haven't done the breaking up thing in quite awhile, but I was once in a miserable relationship with a leggy, neurotic blond who, frankly, didn't have the guts to end things between us even though she couldn't stand the site of me and I was still hopelessly in love with her. I found myself, at the time, wishing she would do something horrible so that I could hate her, like steal my records or screw all my friends, but instead she just never returned my calls. Our relationship died a painful, miserable, agonizing death that I now suspect was the emotional equivalent of waterboarding.

The point is, I'm not sure anyone captures heartbreak and loneliness better than Adams does. I'm partial to his Whiskeytown days (mainly because Caitlin Cary's violin fucking rules), and though I love "Jacksonville Skyline," "Bar Lights", "Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart (Tonight)" and countless others, I think that "Houses On The Hill" might be the most beautiful sad song ever written, solely based on the poetry of the chorus.

There were stars in the sky;
There were houses on the hill
and there were bottles of pills
that were easy to buy;
To keep her warm
from the oncoming storm.

Ryan is all sober now and cutting songs where Sheryl Crow signs backup, and with coke, heroin, some bad relationships, and an unfulfilled childhood now in his rearview, his art isn't quite fed by the same pathos. Does one have to suffer for great art? I don't know the answer. Nick Hornby argues that it certainly helps, here, in this McSweeney's essay about one of Adams best songs as a solo artist, "Oh My Sweet Carolina," which makes me miss Montana every time I hear it.

I ain't never been to Vegas but I gambled up my life
Building newsprint boats I race to sewer mains
Was trying to find me something but I wasn't sure just what
Funny how they say that some things never change

Oh my sweet Carolina
What compels me to go
Oh my sweet disposition
May you one day carry me home


Got a favorite sad song you'd like to share?