So, I started a psychological experiment on myself a while ago (it’s one of my hobbies). It has to do with music and days of the week, so if you don’t like either of those things, then the rest of this post may upset you.
Everyone knows that every day of the week has its own ‘personality’.
Mondays get a bad rap because they start off the work week- but because you’re generally kept busy catching up on all of the shit you were too lazy to do on Friday, they tend to fly past pretty quickly. Monday is just a messenger letting you know what’s happening for the rest of the week. Monday’s actually not such a bad guy.
Tuesday and Wednesday are virtually interchangeable. Like imagine there were a pair of kind of average looking twins, but one of them had a giant birthmark on the back of her neck that looked like a bird shit on it. The shit-mark twin would be Tuesday and Wednesday would be the more attractive sister, but only by default.
Thursday wants to be Friday so badly, like the guy in the office who really, really wants to come out for drinks with the rest of you, but then spends the night in the corner, mostly by himself. If you had to go and talk to Thursday and have a drink with him, he’d be so happy, but then he’d start talking about his complicated relationship with his mother, and show you pictures of his stuffed ferret collection… You want to like Thursday, you do. But you just…can’t.
Friday is everybody’s favourite weekday. Fridays are like cake. Even when a Friday is bad, it’s still really good, because it’s Friday. Even when you have to go into work the next day, Fridays tell you its okay to open that second bottle of wine, or to watch that next episode on Netflix. You can totally get away with being hungover and tired tomorrow. Because tomorrow is even better than Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday.
Saturday’s such an attention whore, but who cares. I love Saturday, and who doesn’t? Everybody loves Saturday. Saturday is like if Jennifer Lawrence and Julia Roberts made a baby, and that baby grew up to be a day of the week. Even if the weather is terrible and you don’t have anything to do, even if you’re sick, or hungover. It doesn’t matter, because Saturday makes everything better.
Unlike that fucker, Sunday. I put it forth that Sunday is the true bastard of the week, not Monday. Sunday is a day off sure, but Sunday comes at a price… Sunday reminds you, the whole day, that it’s going to end, and when it does, your weekend is over. Sunday’s just showing up because it has to be there. You can try to have a good time on Sunday, but Sunday doesn’t give a shit about you. Sunday doesn’t even like you.
Monday might not be great, but at least it is what it is. Sunday parades around like just another day in the weekend, but it’s actually purgatory. The shops close early, you can’t stay out late, and for some reason, it always seems to be four o’ clock in the afternoon already.
People of my generation will remember the official death knell of the weekend: the Carte Blanche opening theme. No piece of music has ever or will ever illicit the same gut-churning dread.
There is one that contends for the position, however. Gloomy Sunday. This piece, composed by Hungarian pianist and composer Rezső Seress and published in 1933, has earned the nickname of ‘The Hungarian Suicide Song’ by apparently inspiring about 19 people to top themselves.
I actually really like it, although, not the revised version, which added an upbeat third verse and bullshit dream-disclaimer to stop people from getting so bummed out.
You can find a couple of English versions of the lyrics (all of which include the punk-ass third verse), of which the Billie Holiday is probably the best, but this, the original instrumental, is my favourite.
The reality is there was probably a four-page menu of reasons to kill yourself in Hungary in the 1930’s, the song isn’t haunted or anything (or is it?…), so you don’t have to worry about listening to this and then feeling the irresistible desire to dive in front of a bus (or will you?…)
So my experiment, has been to substitute Gloomy Sunday for the Carte Blanche music every Sunday evening. And you know what? I still find this less depressing. In fact this song has started to cheer me up on a Sunday, just because it isn’t the Carte Blanche music.
Here’s a link to just the tiniest snippet of the Carte Blanche theme- it was the most I could find (which I think speaks even further to its status as the most reviled piece of local music ever)
Hear that? That’s the sound of your childhood dying, one Sunday at a time.