I’m not saying anything is definite, but statistically speaking you’re more than likely going to have an awful Valentine’s Day that will probably destroy your current relationship and also any prospects of future happines with the person you’re with.
No, don’t worry, it’s cool. I’m scared too.
Lucky for both of us, I’ve prepared for the worst by stockpiling the world’s most sadsack albums for a post-Valentine’s night of waxing pathetically and crying facedown into a pre-cooked TV dinner-for-one. Like I said, I’m not guaranteeing you’re going to botch tonight and get kicked to the curb, but when it does happen, just know these artists are always going to have your back.
Beck—Sea Change: Beck had a nasty spill back in the late ’90s (that is, he got dumped) and suddenly his whole strung-out Dadaist universe imploded around him and he followed up his cirque-de-strange album Midnight Vultures with the desolate Sea Change. Gone were the warped samples and psychic jazz and jamboree handouts. Beck axed them all and replaced them with uppercased SAD. Heavy on acoustic guitar and sincere sincerity, Sea Change is perfect for everyone who’s ever been broken.
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds—The Boatman’s Call: When alt rock’s mega couple of PJ Harvey and Nick Cave split, Nick definitely took it hardest. It was bad. Like, really bad. Like bad enough to encourage the most discouraging album in an already misanthropic and macabre career. The Boatman’s Call replaces Nick’s depraved Jagg-swag with a tender vulnerability, the shrieking guitars and mad-dog vocals for piano and whispers of “People Ain’t no Good.” See the sad scene in “Shrek 2” for reference to this album’s distinct emotional heft.
Elliott Smith—literally any album: Are you unhappy? Well, Elliott gets you. Well, got you, before his life collapsed in a nightmarish montage of drug abuse, crippled dreams and scorned love and he ended up stabbing himself to death/was potentially murdered by the only person who loved him. So, not really a “you feel my pain bro” kind of artist. More like a “maybe if I listen to this my life will look better by comparison.” Yeah? Yeah. His self-titled album is a great place to start, opening with “Needle in the Hay,” the song that sound-tracked Luke Wilson’s suicide attempt in “The Royal Tenanbaums.” It’s a doozy, to say the least.
Liz Phair—Exile in Guyville: Okay, enough of sad skinny indie dudes, what about the ladies? Liz Phair was the quintessential “strong lady” rock star back in the ’90s (in the grand tradition of Debbie Harry and Patti Smith) and Exile in Guyville was equal parts admonition of the male sex and longing for a loving guy. “Soap Star Joe,” finds her calling out the archetypical beautiful womanizing tramp for being an ass and “F*ck and Run” has her bemoaning a life defined by sex, leaving a trail of thrown-away boys in her wake. It’s scuzzy, heartfelt rock for the MTV era and it’s still basically perfect today.
Drake—Take Care: So what if Drake’s the softest in the game? Sometimes that’s just what you need. Take Care exposes the celebrity heart, showing that even rising multi-millionaire rap sensations can shed a tear while riding their solid-gold jet skis over an ocean of money. Drake pumps out machismo and manly woes in equal measure, singing “money over everything” in one song and “Ok, look, I’m honest. Girl, I can’t lie, I miss you / you and the music were the only things that I’d commit to,” the next. Even if Drake can’t make up his mind over what he wants in his own life (I still vote for the jet skis) his songs might just help you figure out what you want in yours.
Xiu Xiu—Life and Live: Heartbreak rapidly mutating into nihilism? No worries, we’ve got one for you too. Xiu Xiu’s official terrifying live album finds front man Jamie Stewart donning an acoustic guitar and belting out a wide breath of songs from all over his grizzly discography. He’s less sad about significant others than obsessed with the daily moribund poison that trickles through the darker corners of our lives, killing us physically and spiritually, but hey, whatever floats your boat.
Weezer—Pinkerton: Weezer’s sophomore album saw Rivers Cuomo opening the diary of his soul up to the masses. He wasn’t just a nerd who looked like Buddy Holly, he was a nerd who looked like Buddy Holly who had feelings! Songs about lesbian heartbreaks, soul crushing groupie sex and Japanese school-girl loves across an insurmountable ocean abound, all layered over grungy lo-fi power-chord wizardry and peppered with River’s angriest vocals to date. Just goes to show you, even Harvard grad mega-stars get dumped from time to time.
