Valentine’s Day is upon us, and I’m listening to break-up albums again.
While everyone else dwells in the swell of love, I prefer to drown in the whirlpool of what once was and never will be again. Depressing, I know, but I swear the music makes it worth the heartache! After all, it only hurts until it rhymes.
In a year dominated by pop princesses and romantic eroticism, several great break-ups albums were also released in 2024, including Rachel Chinouriri’s What A Devastating Turn of Events and John Gallagher Jr’s Goodbye or Something. Both albums are surprisingly energetic and unfiltered looks at the torn psyches of two people burned and tossed aside by their selfish significant others. Chinouriri takes the alt-pop route with her viral hit “Never Need Me,” while Gallagher embodies the mid-west emo spirit and all but screams in agony in “Going Grey.” (I highly recommend checking out both of those albums, by the way.)
It all got me thinking. What exactly makes a great break-up album? Must the writer/subject bear their soul for all to hear? Is there some secret place songwriters go the moment they say or hear the words “It’s over”?
For me, a great break-up album should hold a little bit of every emotion—fear, hurt, sadness, anger, bitterness, acceptance, and regret, though not necessarily in that order. There will be some question of how to move forward—with someone else, perhaps? Or, the more likely, one must face it alone.
Here are a few of my personal favorite break-up albums.
My favorite break-up album of all time is easily Crushing by Julia Jacklin. Crushing (2019) encapsulates the span of emotions one feels after a significant break-up. “Pressure to Party” speaks to the knee-jerk impulse to get over someone as quickly as possible by going out with friends, dancing at the club, and meeting someone new. “Don’t Know How to Keep Loving You” is a demoralizing reflection on falling out of love. In “Turn Me Down,” Jacklin swirls together a final moment with a long-term partner with her own desperate pleas for them to let her down easy, rather than drag out the inevitable. “Comfort” is a stunning little acoustic, half-meditation/half-autopsy. Repeated affirmations of “I’ll be okay,” and “I’ll be alright” follow hopeful wishes for her long-term partner to recover from her decision to leave them.
The entire album follows a bass-heavy, meandering thread, as if to suggest the ongoing, often cyclical process of grieving a long-term relationship. If you ever want to get high and have a good cry to a record, this one fits the bill perfectly. (I’m partial to listening to it on vinyl in the dark.)
History of a Feeling found me in the midst of a severe break-up relapse. It was March of 2023, and I was desperate to finally feel the ache in my chest fully. The songs on this album hold that space for me. “Crying in Public” does exactly what it says on the tin—it’s a pure, full-on sob. “Resentment” is a closed fist held at your side as you lie awake next to the person you love just as much as you hate them. “History of a Feeling” is a direct appeal—it’s “I still love you, but I don’t want to.”
Diaz toes the line well between quiet, harmonized cries and unadulterated rage. This album is best heard in its entirety on a long train trip, preferably the F Train towards Coney Island or the Amtrak from NYC to DC.
The first time I heard this album, it was on a cassette player. The tape was 1 of 50, in a limited run from one of my favorite artists, Rusty Clanton. The tape sounds—buzzy, crackly, and warm—seemed to fit Clanton’s pretty tenor so perfectly. The songs themselves, all precious and hushed acoustics, are among some of my favorites of any singer/songwriter album ever. “Dirty Words” is the immediate aftermath. “No, really I’m doing fine.” It’s a plea, a missing piece song. “I Hope It’s You” is a romantic oasis in the middle of the desert. Its careful optimism sings, where the rest of the album howls. “False Start” is a bitter-sweet conclusion to an isolated series of haunted songs. It’s a death note of the most empathetic kind—the first time mutual responsibility is truly acknowledged.
In just seven songs, Clanton captures the lonely side of loss. Here, we learn what it is to be left and to leave. I listen to this EP on cassette at least once a year. It used to be more, but the tape has started its inevitable descent into degradation a little too early for my liking. Though, the tinny fuzziness of Rusty’s tape-recorded voice is still one of the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard.
What does it sound like to lose the one person with whom you made the best music of your life? Look no further than multi-instrumentalist and producer Alain Johannes and his furious album, Spark. While not a break-up album, per say, Spark is an truly immersive experience in the realm of lost love.
The story goes that Johannes saw long-time collaborator and lover, Natasha Shneider, in a dream the night before he met her. Immediately, he knew they were destined to be together. The two of them made names for themselves playing for and alongside 90s rock favorites like Queens of the Stone Age, Soundgarden, and Mark Lanegan. They fronted their own alternative rock group with drummer Jack Irons in 1990 called Eleven, which came to be an important and symbolic number for the two musicians.
Unfortunately, Shneider passed away after a battle with cancer on July 2, 2008 at 11:11 AM. Two years later, Johannes released Spark, “the most direct ode to Natasha,” and with it, came a flurry of unbridled pain and unflinching grief. “Endless Eyes” starts the album off with the signature acoustic rumbling of his cigar-box guitar, with lyrics alluding to the frustration of having to live on after the love of your life has shed their mortal coil. “The Bleeding Whole” is reminiscent of Eleven’s blend of transcendent harmonies and ethereal strings. It’s a stunning portrait of the music the two of them created together. The album closes with “Unfinished Plan,” a little tune that takes pains to laugh at the absurdity of death. Indeed, may we all not be afraid to let go when the end comes.
I don’t listen to this album often, if only because the breadth of its anguish could so easily swallow me whole. From time to time, it’s a good reminder of how grief can pervade our waking lives. I like to listen to this album on long Winter walks through the park in my neighborhood.
Goodnight, God Bless, God Speed, and All The Rest.
I sincerely hope you all have a pleasant and love-filled Valentine’s Day! ❤️❤️ Maybe take a listen to these albums next week…
Thanks for reading, and if you have any recommendations, thoughts, or queries, send ‘em my way! I’d love to hear from you!
‘Till next time!
one of my favorite breakup albums (technically!) is fandom by waterparks! i'm biased as they are my favorite band as well, but that album got me through all the crazy emotions of getting out of abusive relationships. i love breakup songs (even now while im in a happy relationship)
Maybe off your radar but Archers Of Loaf “ Icky Mettle” is a classic breakup album