A few years ago, I heard Malcolm Gladwell talk about why country music is more melancholy than other kinds of music. As he made his argument, he read the lyrics from a number of the most notable pop or rock songs from the past 50 years. As he read those lyrics, he noted a few characteristics.[1] First, the words were often repetitive. Because the aim of these genres is often to appeal to a broad audience––an audience that might not share the same culture or experiences––the songwriter regularly uses cliché, doing so over and over again. Secondly, it goes without saying, but songs that are lyrically repetitive and full of cliché end up being generic/vague. Not only do the broad swath of people that listen to those genres often not share a common culture or experience, many of them don’t share a common language. I don’t mean they don’t speak English. But people in different parts of the country talk different.[2]

However, in contrast, Gladwell contends that country music comes from and appeals to a more tightly–knit community. Most of these songs, especially in the past, were written by people living in the same region. Therefore, he says of country songwriters, “when you’re speaking to people who understand your world and your culture and your language, you can tell more complicated stories, you can use much more precise imagery, you can lay yourself bare because you’re among your own.” Gladwell goes through sad song after sad song and notes the contrast between the generic repetitiveness of much popular music and the despondent details that dominate the storied lyrics of folk or country songs. For example, one lyric he quotes comes from a heartbroken older man, “Kept some letters by his bed, dated nineteen sixty–two, he had underlined in red, every single “I love you.”

That’s a really sad lyric. Part of the reason it pulls at us is because we can see the details. There’s nothing vague about it. So, here’s Gladwell’s conclusion to his argument: “Country music makes people cry because it’s not afraid to be specific.”[3] I think he’s right, not just about how that particular genre of music works, but also about how humans in our day process emotions while reading texts or hearing music. If we find the language to be vague, unable to see or connect with what someone is saying, our emotions often dismiss it.

These Psalms of Lament are, at least in part, sad songs. Regardless of what they think, Nashville did not come up with everything.[4] But these melodies for the choirmaster––often melancholy––are not songs that just one culture in a particular time and place can identify with, they’re ones that men and women have seen themselves in and sung themselves through for thousands of years in thousands of places.

Note first,

1. David Laments

Verse 1: How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?

In these first two verses, David laments. But he laments not merely his circumstance, he laments the duration of his circumstance.

One time I was on the coast when a Tropical Storm came through. Because I deeply enjoy watching storms over the ocean, a strange part of me was way too excited about it. I thought, “I’ve never been able to see a storm like this in my life. We timed this trip perfectly!” But, to be honest, I was a bit underwhelmed at first. Because if you’d isolated any 20 minutes of this tropical storm, you’ve probably seen it before. The wind wasn’t any stronger. You’ve seen 20 minutes of 60 mile per hour winds. The lightning wasn’t any stronger. In fact, I think I’ve seen much scarier lightning. And the rain wasn’t any harder over any 20-minute stretch than I’d experienced many, many times before. So, isolate any 20 minutes of that storm and it wasn’t anything too impressive. What set it apart, however, was that the hard rain, strong winds, and lightning strikes continued at the same ferocious intensity for nearly 48 hours. The rain just kept coming. The palm trees were at a 45–degre[...]