Off the Charts: Aaron Lewis

Tears of a clown

By Newt Briggs

Aaron Lewis is a sad, sad man. In fact, sometimes--if the wind is right and you listen carefully--you can hear him strumming an acoustic guitar and quietly weeping--no doubt about lost love or his bulbous man-thighs. Better still, you can hear the Staind frontman's heartache in songs like "Outside": "I can see through you/ See your true colors/ 'Cause inside you're ugly/ Ugly like me."

But Lewis, despite his admirable penchant for self-loathing, is not the first to probe the musty depths of human pathos. As Elton John so alliteratively observed, "sad songs say so much," and some indeed have left a trail of tears as long and wide as that of the Cherokee Nation. Now, we're not talking about Nazareth's "Love Hurts," the Bee Gees' "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" or some other hollow, commercial expression of despair. We're talking about songs that unabashedly cry "the horror, the horror" as they slither out of the recesses of our innermost hearts of darkness. Here are a few worth noting.

"I Know it's Over," the Smiths: Let's just assume this song covers the entirety of Morrissey's musical output--as well as that of Joy Division, the Cure and the rest of Britain's mope-rock empire. Still the saddest of the bunch, the Moz can craft an anvil chorus like no other: "Love is natural and real/ But not for you, my love/ Not tonight, my love."

"Hello in There," John Prine: Remember when you lost your patience with that old lady writing a check in the express lane at Vons? Listen to "Hello in There," and realize what a fucking prick you really are.

"Why Must I Cry?" Peter Tosh: Thank Jah for the healing powers of the magical herb, or else Peter Tosh might have sworn off love for good with `Why Must I Cry?" Choke on this heartbreaker: "Making believe you love me only/ Was my great sin."

"Gloomy Sunday," Billie Holliday: Better known as the "Hungarian suicide song," this movie theme had already been banned by the BBC when Billie Holliday recorded her landmark rendition in 1941 because so many Brits were discovered dead in their apartments after listening to the record.

"Send in the Clowns," Judy Collins: Hey, it was either this or Smokey Robinson, and Collins' song seems to better capture that laughing-on-the-outside, crying-on-the-inside agony of most non-homicidal clowns.

"Oh No," the Commodores: Before Lionel Richie knew the sweet pleasure of dancing on the ceiling, he knew the heart-rending ache of love unrequited: "I want you to want me/ I'm going crazy knowing he will be your lover tonight." For an updated version, see the Killers' "Mr. Brightside."

"I Didn't Understand," Elliott Smith: When Elliott Smith decided to kill himself last October, he didn't do it with a gun or pills or a long fall; he stabbed himself in the chest, so you just know the dude was totally messed up inside. In retrospect, this makes his whole catalog an homage to melancholy, but "I Didn't Understand" smacks of a certain existential futility. "What a fucking joke," he sings. "What a fucking joke."

"I've Been Loving You Too Long," Otis Redding: The thing about Otis Redding is his song titles aren't always very instructive as to his songs' contents. "Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song)," for example, is an uptempo party banger compared to "I've Been Loving You Too Long."

"Fake Plastic Trees," Radiohead: Jeez, Thom Yorke, it's a bummer, your lazy eye and all, but what's with the depressing falsetto and even more depressing plant metaphor? "She looks like the real thing/ She tastes like the real thing/ My fake plastic love." This is exactly why you should never fall in love with a sex doll--no matter how lifelike. For a less figurative version, try the Beach Boys' "Caroline, No."