Top Albums and Songs of 2014

Top Albums:

10. Real Estate - Atlas
9. This Will Destroy You - Another Language
8. Cloud Nothings - Here and Nowhere Else
7. Grouper - Ruins
6. Explosions in the Sky - Lone Survivor OST
5. White Lung - Deep Fantasy
4. Knuckle Puck - EPs
3. The War on Drugs - Lost in the Dream
2. The Antlers - Familiars 
1. Joyce Manor - Never Hungover Again

Top Songs:

And here's two-and-a-half hours worth of music to hold you over, with some words below:

Joyce Manor - "Catalina Fight Song": Yes, a one-minute song is my favorite of the year. I've been playing "Catalina Fight Song" nonstop -- and often on loop, something I almost never do -- and it still sounds as fresh and compelling as when I first heard it. Recalling Guided by Voices, Joyce Manor craft songs that are catchy, passionate, and, most of all, succinct. Listen to the guitar that sears through the drums midway through "Catalina." A typical band would've let that guitar play out and cut the opening verse neatly in two, but Joyce Manor refuse to waste a second here, so the vocals keep flowing, their rising intensity matching the amplifying noise.  "Catalina" becomes a minute-long crescendo without all the build-up preceding it, though the song really explodes in the last ten seconds and then abruptly concludes. After such a climactic minute, I feel stunned when the music suddenly ceases.  Somehow, though, I muster the strength to click my radio dial to the left...and then the song repeats.

Knuckle Puck - "Gold Rush": When you hear great pop-punk, it sounds so damn easy -- it really is a formulaic genre -- but few bands truly get the music right.  Often the vocals are too whiny, or the guitars are too distorted, or the hooks simply aren't catchy enough.  But when all a song's pieces do come together, you can recognize a classic instantly.  That's how I felt with Knuckle Puck's "Gold Rush," a song that begins with an urgent exclamation: "If I don't start sleeping on the floor again I'll be testing out my patience,"  This intensity is sustained the whole song through, but what's most remarkable about the track is its fluctuating dynamics: it is not three minutes of pleas, which would quickly grow irritating. Instead,  the vocals are always moving at different speeds and volumes that it's surprising how much you can hear in less than three minutes. (They buy into another pop-punk maxim: brevity is key.)  The group foregrounds the emoish vocals during the verses and bridge, where the band maximizes the poignancy of its universally relatable lines like "I swore I wouldn't feel this way anymore." Then there's the noisier chorus with jolting guitars and staggering drums, not to mention an addictive chorus which I always catch myself involuntarily singing around the house.  Nearing the song's end, the band uses a vocal effect so that the singer's voice swells up, making "Gold Rush" feel gigantic, epically important, which is part of the point: pop-punk magnifies our basic emotions (happiness, sadness, jealousy, anger), which to some seems melodramatic but to others feels like the whole damn universe condensed into a song. Knuckle Puck convince me that whatever they're feeling really matters, and for the three minutes I hear "Gold Rush," I'm totally lost in their world of emotions.

Flying Lotus, ft. Kendrick Lamar - "Never Catch Me": Best hip-hop song of the year.  Few rappers could keep up with Flying Lotus's spazzy beats, but Kendrick accelerates his vocals to blazing speeds, faster than anything heard on his impeccable good kid, m.A.A.d city.  Also check out the stunning video, which shows two young children rise from their coffins and dance through their funeral procession.

The Antlers - "Palace": After releasing Hospice, a devastating concept album acclaimed by critics, I feared that The Antlers might've peaked too early.  But the group's followup, Burst Apart, revealed a band eager to experiment sonically and starting to cultivate a distinct sound.  Following an underrated EP (Undersea), these guys have released the most beautiful and unique work to date: Familiars.  The album is ironically named: this music sounds totally dissimilar to other experimental/stoner indie/alternative music.  In fact, it's even a departure from previous Antlers albums.  Yet this is also a distinct Antlers record, one that no other group could have made.  Listen to how that inimitably angelic falsetto is paired with the ethereal soundscapes we heard on Burst Apart, in addition to warm, brassy horns, which simultaneously cut against the lofty sounds (bringing more earthy tones to the spacey keys) and increase the ambiance.  It's easy to get lost in these warm and oozy sounds until the vocals demand your attention midway through the song during the climactic exclamation.  Listen for individual parts, listen for the whole, listen closely or zone out. This song proves incredibly rewarding and durable.  Seems like they didn't peak too soon, after all.

The War on Drugs - "Under the Pressure":  It's so easy to get lost in the lush soundscapes of this gorgeous record.  We get more of the gauzy shoegaze that we've heard on previous War on Drugs albums, but here the melodies are richer and the songs flow more freely.  Take the album's opener, which ebbs and flows for nine minutes of carefully orchestrated guitars, keys, and muted horns.  It feels otherworldly and transcendent, but the Dylan-esque vocals always keep the song grounded enough that it doesn't loft away into ethereal nowhereland--the foreboding vocals shade these dreamy sounds with dreariness.  We witness this mixture of dreaminess and dread when singer Adam Granduciel admits that he's "trying not to crack under the pressure," and then the song briefly ruptures, all of its pent-up tension suddenly released.  As beautiful as this moment is, it's also the song and singer cracking.  Beautiful moments that capture Granduciel's lowest points.

Real Estate - "Had to Hear":  I liked this group's past album, Days, better than its newest, but this opener epitomizes everything people adore about Real Estate: laid-back vocals, catchy (and deceivingly intricate) guitars, and subtle but moving lyrics.  I just love the line "I don't need the horizon to tell me where the sky is/ It's a subtle landscape where I come from."  Gets me every time, even if I can't pinpoint why.  Maybe it's just a North Jersey thing (these guys are from a town about 15 minutes from me).

The Notwist - "Kong": A lot of publications vaunt Future Islands's "Seasons" as the indie pop song of the year.  I like the song (it made the cut), but give me "Kong" every time, a track that plays like a poppier version of Built to Spill, with the instrumental prowess of a Tokyo Police Club.  This one needs high volume -- let it be the (somewhat morose, but hey it's indie!) jam to your future summers.

Cloud Nothings - "I'm Not a Part of Me":  I still think CN's last album was better, but this song--and the performance of the whole album at the Bowery earlier this year--is superb.  It's no "Stay Useless," but it rocks hard and closes the record with a bang.

Explosions in the Sky - "Waking Up":  By now EITS have mastered the whole soundtrack thing.  And the whole making absolutely gorgeous, wordless music that conjures every bittersweet moment of your life, eliciting near-paralytic states of awe and introspection.  Yeah, that too.  This song brings lightness to a dark film (Lone Survivor) and a largely dark soundtrack, and it offers the chimey guitars and loud/soft dynamics one expects of an Explosions song.  What makes this one special is that the "explosive" crescendo is gentler, and dare I say prettier, than most EITS songs.  And the band operates under time constrains that their albums lack, pulling off an emotionally gripping, wordless song in under five minutes.  This track isn't to be missed by any EITS fan.

Closing out 2011

Other 2011 notables not covered in my Top Albums list:

Most Pleasant Surprise: Clams Casino - Instrumental Mixtape.  I read about Clams Casino while procrastinating in Barnes and Noble with Wei in late November, right around the time when I had to start writing three seminar papers (aka when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown).  Call it divine intervention that I found this mixtape/album then; I needed lots of new music to help me get through that month of hell, and this collection of ruminative, instrumental hip-hop beats (or more like soundscapes) really did the trick.  It works well as background music, and it surely operated as such during many 3 AM writing sessions.  But it has more depth than most pretty/haunting ambient noise, and it makes for a challenging listen: it's hard not to get lost in the shimmering waves of shoegazey sound to try and figure out the meanings behind the songs.

Biggest Disappointment: Drake - Take Care.  What. A. Mess.  After hearing b-sides from the Take Care sessions, and the excellent collab "I'm On One," I thought Drake was going to produce the best album of the year.  Instead, Drake offered a choppy, disparate, occasionally blush-worthy, and most of all inconsistent follow-up to 2010's Thank Me Later.  Here's a brief overview of the album: it begins much like Thank Me Later with a beautiful opening R&B track accompanied with female vocals, followed by the slow, reverby vocals contrasted with quick raps on "Shot for Me." Everything seems promising until Drake speaks, "May your neighbors accept you, trouble neglect you, angels protect you, and heaven accept you."  What the hell is that?  It sounds like he read this off a Hallmark card.  I blush every time I hear this; the sheer awkwardness of it actually makes my stomach turn.  But anyway, the above-average singles "Headlines," "Take Care," and "Marvin's Room" follow, along with the less ubiquitous "Crew Love," which is undoubtedly the best song on the album.  Drake and The Weeknd have a strong rapport and should definitely pursue this in the future.

So 6 songs are great, minus one little blemish.  But then something happens.  There's the intensely narcissistic interlude after "Marvin's Room," where a no-name rapper--who's pretty good, actually--talks about Drake for 2 minutes.  The Interlude really separates the fruit from the chaff: "Underground Kings" follows with its interestingly dark, guitar-looped instrumental, but Drake's nasally vocals on the chorus make the song sound more awkward than urgent.  Birdman absolutely ruins an otherwise decent "We'll Be Fine" with his nonsensical chatter that closes the track. "Lord Knows" has the most overblown beat and one of the most embarrassing rhymes I've heard in a long time: "I'm hearing all of the jokes, I know that they trying to push me / I know that showing emotion don't ever mean I'm a p****." I can't listen beyond that.  The sob-fest "Doing It Wrong" wallows in its platitudes, "we live in a generation of not falling in love / and not being together," and features a painfully out of place  harmonica solo from Stevie Wonder.  Lil Wayne continues his awful 2011 with two terrible collaborations, "The Real Her" and the otherwise great "HYFR."  Read the lyrics to his verses if you need convincing.  His delivery is just as awful.

By the 14th song, the incredibly personal "Look What You Done," I no longer care about Drake's life.  At this point I feel like a psychiatrist whose 60 minute session is up, but Drake won't stop emoting, especially on this 5 minute snoozer.  "Practice" takes the famous Juvenile beat from "Back that Ass Up," simply because it can?  This album has grand ambitions; it wants to have legendary rappers (Andre 3k, Lil Wayne), up-and-coming stars (Jamie XX, Nicki Minaj, Rick Ross, The Weeknd), and big-name cameos (Stevie Wonder, Rihanna), while instrumentally it wants arena-sized beats next to intimate confessions.  It sounds like Drake had aspirations of challenging Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, but Take Care, though similar in length, drags for something like 40 of its 79 minutes.  While Kanye's songs flowed and unfolded beautifully, Drake's seem deliberately extended; sometimes two totally different songs are even slapped together into one.  There are several great moments on this album; if it had been cut in half, it could've been special.  But Drake's narcissism, which brought him so much success, ruins him here.  Well, for me.  Everyone else seemed to love this album.

Oh, I really enjoyed "Cameras" and "Make Me Proud," but they're unfortunately overshadowed by all the bad.

Artist I Just Don't Understand: Childish Gambino.  Why do people like him again?  I find nothing redeeming.  This review by Ian Cohen pretty much encapsulates all my feelings: http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/16074-camp/?utm_campaign=search&utm_medium=site&utm_source=search-ac

Favorite Pop Song: "Give Me Everything."  Pitbull might be the least talented person on the universe (he's got the vocal prowess of Childish Gambino), but I found/still find this song unbelievably catchy.  It's musically trite and lyrically demeaning, misogynistic, and short-sighted, but hey, that's the nature of the pop industry.  (Yes, I'm aware of the hypocrisy of placing this entry below my Childish Gambino criticism.  Sue me.)

Impressive Comeback: Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys.  After a terrible album and EP, I gave up on you, Ben Gibbard.  But Codes and Keys proved that DCFC has a lot left to offer, after all.  I hear Postal Service and Arcade Fire influences here, but also some hip-hop ("St. Peter's Cathedral") and prog ("Doors Unlocked and Open," "Unobstructed Views,").  I never thought I'd connect prog and hip-hop with Death Cab, but it actually works.  This album is catchy, dark, and, frankly, just interesting: I actually want to "decode" Ben's lyrics again, especially in light of his recent divorce--which makes songs like "Unobstructed Views" so interesting.  It's awfully dark for a love song.  Or "Some Boys," which is strangely poppy for a self-deprecating song that broadcasts Ben's emotional deficiencies.  It sounds like he's apologizing, or offering a reason as some sort of closure, but he wants to disguise his anxieties through catchy melodies and distorted vocals.  I hope Narrow Stairs was just a bump in the road and DCFC can produce more albums like this.  Even if they can't, if they can churn out pop songs half as catchy as "You Are a Tourist" (sans the stupid 'if there's burning in your heart line' -- just take a Tums!), then I'll be happy.  Welcome back, Death Cab!  And thanks for bringing this to my attention, Annie!

Best Discoveries: The Velvet Underground, especially "Heroin," "Sunday Morning," "Pale Blue Eyes," "Here She Comes Now," "Candy Says," and "After Hours."  "Heroin" might be my all-time favorite "classic-rock" song now.  I think it's brilliant and have been trying to write a post on it since August.  But I have thoroughly enjoyed almost everything I've heard from their 60's albums and now genuinely respect the extremely under-appreciated Lou Reed.

The XX.

The Replacements - Let It Be.  After hearing a snippet of "Unsatisfied" from Adventureland, I knew I needed to hear this song.  I found the whole album and have not stopped listening to it since.  It's punky, emotional, weird, and fun.  It looks and sounds like the 80s, and makes me (almost) proud to be an 80s kid.  "Unsatisfied" is definitely one of my favorite songs of the year.

The Pixies.  I had the pleasure of seeing these guys when my Aunt Tara asked/begged me to go with her to the Welmont Theatre.  My aunt has an awesome taste in music, so I took her advice, even though I never really enjoyed the Pixies before.  Well, the concert was amazing and really sold me on the band.  I was really into Surfer Rosa for awhile, but lately I cannot stop listening to Doolittle, an album that's almost impossible to categorize: it's poppy yet abrasive, raw yet in many ways refined, fun yet morbid.  Whatever, though.  It's a great album, beginning with the energetic "Debaser," which pumps me up like few others, and the feral "Tame," a song that sounds like what dozens of post-punk bands have aspired but failed to create.

Best Concert: Explosions in the Sky, with the opener The Antlers.  I think.  I went to a bunch of shows, but I remember this one leaving me giddy.  Plus I got to take my brother, so it was special to see him enjoying the awesomeness that is EITS--especially since they played "The Moon Is Down" with the tambourine solo.

There were other great ones, though: Kevin Devine (as always), The Pixies, Bright Eyes, Lil Wayne, Two Door Cinema Club, Matt & Kim, Japandroids, Deftones, Glassjaw, Clutch.  That's what I can remember off the top of my head.  Seeing SSLYBY at SHU was pretty sweet, too.

Great year of music.  I probably omitted a lot, so here's to being more productive in 2012!

Top Albums of 2011, 11-6

11.  Bright Eyes - The People's Key.  After a very uneven 2007 release in "Cassadaga" and a 4-year hiatus, Bright Eyes return with a surprisingly solid album, given how spotty Oberst's side projects had been.  Oberst really sings on "The People's Key," sounding as confident as ever -- and for good reason: his lyrics, though now much more abstract than emotional, remain some of the best of our generation, and his voice has developed so he can now harmonize better than ever.  Moreover, after the grandiose "Cassadaga," Mike Mogis displays some much-needed restraint in the studio, focusing more on melodies than worldly soundscapes.  What follows are some of the catchiest songs Oberst's ever produced, with "Beginner's Mind" perhaps his band's greatest triumph.  "The People's Key" may conclude Bright Eyes' stellar, near-15 year catalog, and, if that's the case, Oberst ends his inspirational, prolific, and influential project on a high note.

10.  Kanye West and Jay-Z - Watch the Throne.  I have a major problem with songs "featuring" other artists.  I feel that more often than not the meaning of the song is compromised when another person adds in his/her verse.  Often when the featured guest tries to stay on the song's theme, he/she oversimplifies it or drops a cheesy metaphor to ruin the listening experience (see: Young Jeezy in Drake's "Unforgettable" or Lil Wayne in Drake's "The Real Her" for examples).  But when Kanye and Jay Z, two of the biggest names in the music industry, recorded "Watch the Throne" together, I was intrigued, albeit a little skeptical.  When I listened to the album, though, I heard a collection of loud, witty, brilliantly produced songs that seemed like neither Ye's nor Jay's individual work, but something that melded their two styles together: it was distinctly theirs.  You know its Kanye and Jay on radio hits "Ni***as in Paris" and "Otis," but you can also tell the songs come from "Watch the Throne:" Jay motivates Kanye to rap harder than ever, while Kanye challenges Jay's recent lyrical/instrumental complacency.  Besides being able to hear two prolific artists changing their style to make something great, it was most enjoyable to hear Ye and Jay competing with each other, ricocheting lines off each other in "Otis" or even trying to be the most introspective and, surprisingly,  vulnerable on "New Day."  Perhaps after accomplishing so many individual accolades, Jay and Ye needed to record together for inspiration.  Kanye and Jay seem to not only encourage but also to threaten one another; these guys have always been known for both their egotism and paranoia ("they want me dead," Jay admits on "Why I Love You"), so it's not inconceivable that the rappers are watching each other to protect his (however imagined) throne atop the rap/hip-hop world.

9.  Frank Ocean - Nostalgia, Ultra.  I actually wrote my first blog post on Frank Ocean's "There Will Be Tears," the ninth track off his debut mixtape.  I discussed Ocean's heart-on-sleeve honesty and poetic craftsmanship, which surprised me knowing his affiliation with Odd Future.  That basically can sum up this amazing, surprisingly endearing mixtape, as Ocean's lyrical craft and impressive ear for beats make "Nostalgia" a thoroughly enjoyable listen.  True to its title, Ocean's mixtape encompasses a wide range of feelings: the happiness, sadness, jealousy, anger, naivete, lust, and heartbreak we can vividly remember from our past.  Nostalgia emerges in the first track, where Ocean re-imagines Coldplay's "Strawberry Swing" to sing about lost love and youth during war: "When we were kids / We handpainted strawberries on a swing / Every moment was so precious then / I'm still kicking / I'm daydreaming on a strawberry swing."  That's pretty much the poem I tried to write throughout high school--it both annoys and amazes me how Ocean perfects the poetic imagery and emotions I've been searching for in five lines.

The album's nostalgia persists throughout: even the instrumental tracks, which are mainly the clicking and hissing of cassettes, are named for old NES video games.  Yet the distant past also becomes an immediate future; Ocean accesses his memories to make something timely (or timeless) and real, like on the poignant opener.  Additionally, Ocean samples instrumentals like "Strawberry Swing," "There Will Be Tears," and MGMT's "Electric Feel" to reinvent them--taking from the sometimes very distant past to create something uniquely his own.  Never does this become more apparent than of "American Wedding," which borrows from the Eagles's "Hotel California."  Ocean details a young lust/love and hasty divorce, concluding, "It's an American wedding; / They don't mean too much. ...We had an American wedding / Now what's mine is yours, American divorce."  Ocean continues by begging, "Don't break my heart / This wedding ring won't ever wipe off," only to admit: "But if you stay, girl if you stay / You'll probably leave later anyway / It's love made in the U.S.A."  Once Ocean's disillusion peaks, the guitar solos begin, sounding as if they were written for this exact moment.  The song no longer feels like a cover or a borrowed instrumental; it becomes Frank Ocean's--a remarkable feat for a song whose instrumentals are firmly planted in the rock-n-roll canon.

Ocean's original work is just as compelling; the gritty beat of "Novacane" and ominous piano and bass on "Lovecrimes" mark some of the album's standouts.  "Swim Good" is my newest favorite; there's a sense of urgency to it although the song doesn't seem to try to sound overly urgent, even as Ocean threatens "to drive in(to) the ocean."  It's hard to describe.  Ocean's music simply has many natural qualities to it.  When music is this honest, nothing feels forced.

8.  The Weeknd - Echoes of Silence.  The third mixtape released this year by the mysterious R&B artist, The Weeknd, dropped only a few days before Christmas, so I haven't had a lot of time to digest it all yet.  Which is probably a good thing: this collection contains the grimmest tales the Weeknd has told yet--not exactly ideal for getting into the holiday spirit.  Look no further than "Initiation," where the Weeknd's falsetto croons devolve into deranged, goblin whispers, which maliciously inform a drugged-up girl: "I got a test for you / Baby, you can have my heart / There's just something that I need from you / Is to meet my boys."  Pitchfork claims the song is about gang-rape, which doesn't seem all too farfetched, considering the song's violent, propulsive beat.  What is most disturbing is the song's catchiness despite its violence and cruelty; it seems perfectly appropriate for an insatiably voyeuristic American audience, which overlooks (or stampedes) morality/ethics to pry into the lives of celebrities.  We make nobodys into celebrities just to know everything about them (see: Jersey Shore) and we love to watch people fall.  The Weeknd appeals to these American vultures, first showing us the idealized party that mainstream music glorifies, then dragging us to the reality of O/Ds, false love, and the most intense suffering--showing us all the steps that lead to "the fall."

There's so much more to say about this album: its lyrical and musical cohesion, its place in the trilogy of mixtapes, and the freakin' perfect cover of Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana."  This is quickly emerging as my favorite Weeknd album, but since I'm supplementing this information in January, I will leave my rank as is. 
 
7. Real Estate - Days.  It seems trendy and hipsterish to pick P4K's BNM's "Days," but as soon as I heard the pensive chimes and washed-out reverb on opener "Easy," I became hooked on Real Estate's breezy sound.  NJ's Real Estate have what I always considered to be an "indie" sound: moody, often brooding pop that is simplistic but meaningful.  Why I had such a precise definition of one of the most amorphous genres around today is beyond me, but hearing RE's music brought me back to "easier" listening "days" when I was first discovering independent music and hearing sounds I seemed to be searching for all my life.  Some journalists are trying to sell bullshit about how RE's music is Springsteen-esque--that it captures some NJ ethos.  But that's not really the appeal to this music (hell, I live in Jersey and don't hear a Jersey sound or influence).  What is great about "Days," though, is its cool, laid-back simplicity; you can easily get lost in the sprawling guitars and low-key vocals or you can bang out the drum beat to "It's Real."  Real Estate doesn't seem to want to fit in with the lo-fi, SO-CAL "chillwave" movement that's trending on indie blogs; their music, much like Frank Ocean's, seems to just flow naturally without trying to conform to a style or trend.  It's genuine and unadorned music--or, simply, "it's real."

6. The Antlers - Burst Apart.  After seeing them nearly steal the show while opening for Explosions in the Sky, I knew I needed to devote some serious listening time to the Antlers's newest album.  While it doesn't live up to their live experience, where the group lets their songs flow into long but tight jams, "Burst Apart" presents some of the richest musical tapestries I've heard in a long time.  The group's large dynamics and haunting vocals on "No Windows" and "Parentheses" stand out as exemplars.  And when the band chooses minimalism on the closer "Putting the Dog to Sleep," the staccato guitar strikes end the album on an emotional high, as the dog-imagery throughout the album culminates in the painful lines, "Prove to me  I'm not gonna die alone... / Don't lie to me, if you're putting the dog to sleep."  I've listened to this album dozens of times and I'm just starting to unravel the lyrics; it's so easy to get absorbed in the album's soundscapes, paired with its impeccable pacing, that it almost makes the group's acerbic lyrics an afterthought.  Which is great: an album this good should require dozens of spins, and constantly finding/hearing new things make the experience all the more enjoyable.

January Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month.  The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

1. M83 - "Intro."  I never listened to Zola Jesus before, but she's a guest vocalist here, and her vocals really make the song.  Anthony Gonzalez shouts urgently to "carry on," while she sings with more equanimity.  The atmosphere of "Intro" is incredible, almost intergalactic (now there's an adjective I've never used to describe music!): it sounds like the song is about to explode, take off into space, and once the mounting tension finally releases, keys rush by like shooting stars.  It almost reminds me of the sounds you hear in Mario Kart when the balloon animal thing shoots out a trophy.  I know it's a specific and silly example, but it's fitting for a group whose music focuses on nostalgia--capturing the glories of childhood without the bitterness of the present.
   
   
2. M83 - "Midnight City." These songs have to be placed back to back; they work so well together and are two standouts from 2011.  I can't just stop listening to this album after "Intro;" once I hear the MGMT-esque synths, I have to listen for the sax solo (which I would usually find cheesy, but here it just works), and then I can't turn this album off.  It's a glorious song, one that reminds me, importantly, that great music doesn't have to be sad.
   

July 30 - Kettering

Scratch that. Here's a much more appropriate song to describe how I've, sadly, been feeling:

But something kept me standing
By that hospital bed
I should have quit but instead
I took care of you.

You made me sleep all uneven
And I didn't believe them
When they told me that there
Was no saving you.

It's the futility of trying to save someone who can't (or perhaps doesn't want to be) helped. It's beyond your control, and it hurts. A lot.