*****************************************************

Snow Patrol - You Could be Happy

Rigsy - ATL Presenter

The most delicate song Snow Patrol have given us is also one of their best. It's also proof that the saddest songs are the ones which keep it nice and simple. Here it's just Gary Lightbody, a xylophone, touch of strings and some pretty heart-breaking lyrics. 'You could be happy and I won't know, but you weren't happy the day I watched you go...' - no confusion as to what this one's about. And yes, it's made me cry. But you had to be there....

Beck - Lost Cause

Paul McClean - ATL Producer

Since it would be far too distressing for me to use 'You'll Never Walk Alone' given current circumstances, the next best thing is Beck. The entire album Sea Change was obviously written with a massive big bag of bleak on the bedside table. I don’t even want to know what the wee Hansen was going through, but its fairly apocalyptic. 'Golden Age' is also contender, with its pedal steel guitar reverb'd to the max, but 'Lost Cause' is an utterly heartsick admission of a relationship fail.

Ryan Adams - Call Me On Your Way Back Home

Amy McGarrigle - ATL Content Assistant

It all begins with a sigh, and I'm personally convinced it ain't one bit contrived. Ryan Adams song of longing a lover is simple and raw with emotion. The song ends with, "I just wanna die without you", and rather than it sounding like just another line, there's something genuinely heartbreaking about Adams delivery. His voice is weak and fragile and it feels like night-time contemplation that's been subtly completed after with a touch of studio production. He's written many, many, many more songs about lovers, lust and romance but nothing has ever sounded as truthful and lonesome as this song, and particularly this performance.

Red House Painters - 'Medicine Bottle'

Steven Rainey - ATL Buddy

The Red House Painters are the undisputed masters of misery. Whilst mirth-mongers like Robert Smith and Ian Curtis dwelled in existential angst, Mark Kozelek and his San Francisco based band went straight for the jugular, crafting towering epics of suffering and pain.



Of all their recorded output, perhaps Medicine Bottle, from their debut album, is the knife that cuts the deepest. Dealing with the total collapse of a relationship, Kozelek avoids poetic metaphors, instead diving straight into the intensely painful particulars of what hurts the most. Over seven minutes of desolate guitars and pained soundscapes, Kozelek picked apart the minuate of his failed relationship, leaving behind a sound so raw that few have ever dared go near it.



With suffering this intense, who could blame them?