Gloomy Thursday (The Grumpiest Monkey’s Breakup Song of the Week)

Let’s face it — breakups make for bad times, but really good music.

There are so many great breakup songs out there that your humble Monkey narrator is feeling compelled to set aside some time each week to share some of his favorites with you.

We’ll start the series with this depressingly lovely gem from the Civil Wars.

As anyone who has been in a relationship that has proved to be both loving and toxic can attest, love can often be like poison and wine. 


This Monkey Has a Crush on Alela Diane

Dear Alela Diane:

You really are something else.

This humble Grumpy Monkey just happened to come across your 2006 album, “The Pirate’s Gospel”, on the emusic website while he was browsing through songs one day.

And he just happened to take a chance on the first two songs on the album; “Tired Feet” and “The Rifle.”

Wow, was he impressed.

You have done an excellent job of reinterpreting the traditional American/English folk song for a new generation.

Your work is distinguished by excellent songwriting, taunt fingerpicked guitar notes, a smooth voice and sweetly blended harmonies.

Your latest album, “To Be Still”, boasts an excellent first single in “White as Diamonds.” And your work with the Headless Heroes was recently featured on an All Songs Considered Podcast that one can find here.

And let’s be honest. You look a little bit like Jessica Biel, which isn’t exactly hurting your case with this bashful Monkey admirer.

But your Monkey is not a jealous Monkey. He is not greedy and overpossesive.  He does not want to hoard you in his ipod and on his computer like dragons used to hoard treasure and gold coins during medieval times.

Your Monkey wants to share you with the world.

Here is Alela Diane performing “Tired Feet.”


Me and Ray Lamontagne have a lot to be upset about

Rolling Stone and Britain’s NME are now reporting that Meg White is getting married.

Meg White?

Getting married?

The news has zinged your Monkey in the heart like the poison arrow of some bizarro Cupid. This is surely the end of it all.

Everyone’s favorite buxom brunette drummer (whose drumming talent is unfairly under appreciated, by the way)  is now off the market.

Who will this Money dream about at night? Who will he collect photos of? Who will he write unanswered letters to? Who will he sculpt in his mashed potatoes at dinner time?

And has anyone thought about poor Ray Lamontange? He’s not the cheeriest guy to begin with and this could send him over the edge. If you can write lyrics as moving as these below and still not get the girl, then what chance to any of us have?

Meg White
You’re alright
In fact, I think you’re pretty swell
Can’t you tell?

Meg White
Such a pretty thing
I saw your face on the cover
Of a magazine

Some day (some day)
I’d like (I’d like)
To take a walk with you
Maybe ride our bikes down by the sea side

O terrible, lamentable day! Your Monkey is lovesick and seasick and wailing aloud. There’s no fried banana sandwich in the world that is big enough to fill this empty feeling.