In the swirling world of music where emotions often clash with melodies, Neil Diamond achieved a decidedly strange feat: he sang about sadness without ever sounding sad. His journey to the top spot on the charts began with the drinking anthem “Cracklin’ Rosie,” a song inspired by a bleak yet poignant story of loneliness from a remote Canadian tribe where women outnumbered men, leaving many men to drown their sorrows in wine. But far from plunging the listener into despair, Diamond delivered this tale with an astonishing celebratory razzle-dazzle that only he could muster.
This paradox of juxtaposing melancholy subject matter with an uplifting delivery reappears in Diamond’s second chart-topping hit and, as it would turn out, his last solo #1 single, “Song Sung Blue.” Though he would return to the summit with duets, this song remains singularly emblematic of his style and charm. At its heart, “Song Sung Blue” explores the therapeutic power of music: when we belt out songs laden with sadness, that very act helps us channel and diminish our sorrow.
Yet the beauty of “Song Sung Blue” lies in its stark contrast—the song itself is not remotely sad. Diamond croons,
“Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice / And before you know it, get to feeling good / You simply got no choice.”
But in his rendition, there’s no real cry, only an enveloping Broadway-ready warmth that radiates comfort and reassurance. Perhaps he is simply enchanted by the transformative power of music or delighted to share a message that sadness doesn’t have to triumph—just sing a song and the blues dissipate. Notably, Diamond wasn’t singing his own sadness but singing about songs themselves, making it a curious twist: a joyful anthem celebrating the very notion of sadness.
When introducing the track live, Diamond famously called it “a glad song” rather than “a sad song,” further cementing the paradox that makes it fascinating.
The melody of “Song Sung Blue” took inspiration from an unexpected source—the second movement of a Mozart concerto. This classical foundation gracefully translates into a pop arrangement marked by a lazy guitar strum and the warm glow of a Fender Rhodes electric piano. The finely tuned arrangement features melodramatic strings, wistful backing vocals, and plaintive harmonica accents arriving precisely when needed. Without any driving rhythm or momentum, the song’s components fit together like a perfect puzzle, resulting in an exquisite example of what Diamond himself later pared down as “meaningless craftsmanship.”
Interestingly, Diamond confessed he never gave “Song Sung Blue” much thought, describing it as a very basic message, unadorned, noting,
“I didn’t even write a bridge to it.”
However, Russ Regan, his Uni label boss, recognized the song’s hit potential instantly, and it soared to become a beloved classic.
The lyrics, simple yet evocative, circle around the universal experience of the blues—a feeling everyone is subject to from time to time:
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Sing them out again
Song sung blue
Weeping like a willow
Song sung blue
Sleeping on my pillow
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know, it get to feeling good
You simply got no choice
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Song sung blue
Weeping like a willow
Song sung blue
Sleeping on my pillow
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know, it started feeling good
You simply got no choice
Song sung blue
Song sung blue
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
This classic tune stands as a testament to Neil Diamond’s unique ability to balance the light and the dark, singing about sadness with a sunny disposition, reinforcing the power of music to soothe the soul even when tackling the blues.