Over the holidays, I attended a funeral honoring the life of a family member born during the Great Depression. Several neglectful relatives were in charge of curating a playlist to celebrate this individual. The songs selected were so generic it was almost comical.
“I heard this melody on a commercial for Carnival Cruise last night,” my aunt told me while chain-smoking a cigarette. “I figured, let’s put it on Grandpa’s playlist.”
The song in question was Bobby Darrin’s “Beyond the Sea.” Immediately after this track, Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” was played, followed by a piano rendition of “Amazing Grace.”
My grandfather didn’t share a connection to any of these songs.
When I die, I want to be in control of my funeral playlist. I want to make the musical experience uncomfortable for the folks who barely knew me (AKA my relatives) and meaningful for the friends who understood my twisted sense of humor.
The tunes I curate will come from two distinct genres: butt rock and nu metal. This unlikely pairing will create a seamless listening experience with layers of emotion. To some, it may come off as a joke. But it’s not a joke. It’s a totally sincere funeral playlist.
Want to listen along while you read? The playlist is available on Spotify.
“It’s Been Awhile” by Staind
And it’s been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it’s been awhile
Since I first saw you
You enter the funeral parlor while Aaron Lewis sings these lyrics. A feeling of guilt quickly develops.
“Damn. It has been a while since I’ve seen Torrey.”
The line of people approaching my casket is lengthy. By the time you make it to my resting body, these lyrics echo overhead:
And everything I can’t remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that are rendered
I’ve stretched myself beyond my means
You reach for a tissue. Cue the guitar solo.
“Blurry” by Puddle of Mudd
After paying your respects at my casket, you approach the memorial table containing an arrangement of photos from my past.
Everything’s so blurry, and everyone’s so fake
And everybody’s empty, and everything is so messed up
You chew on these lyrics while observing a photo of me eating Play-Doh in the second grade.
“How can Torrey be dead? He was so healthy and flexible and had great teeth. Why am I still here? Why are any of us here?”
Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
You glance at one of my older relatives. The intensity of the music has crippled them with paranoid bewilderment. They clutch their chest in agony, perhaps signaling a heart attack.
“Higher” by Creed
We end the butt-rock portion of the playlist with Creed’s “Higher.” Though melancholy, the lyrics suggest there is hope in the afterlife.
Up high, I feel like I’m
Alive for the very first time
Said up high, I’m strong enough
To take these dreams
And make them mine
Can you take me higher?
To a place where blind men see
Your anger begins to diminish. Although sadness remains, there is acceptance. You shed a final tear while nodding to the truths of Creed. Glancing once again at my resting body, you exhale.
“Walkin’ on the Sun” by Smash Mouth
And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow
But if the offer’s shunned
You might as well be walking on the Sun
In the previous song, Creed questioned the heights a person could theoretically reach. Well, how about the sun? That’s pretty high. And what if we could walk on it? You envision my liberated soul trekking across the blazing star with reckless abandon.
“That Torrey was one groovy sonofabitch,” you declare unironically.
“Fever for the Flava” by Hot Action Cop
As you continue to reflect fondly on my legacy, one of the bluntest, most offensive sex-crazed songs begins to play.
Do you think that I can get some? (Chickie, Chickie)
Maybe gets a little finga? (Sticky, Sticky)
A wave of shared embarrassment crashes over the attending grievers. Through rosy cheeks, you reminisce.
“Torrey sure was a pervert. He once joked he knew the names of more porn stars than presidents. Maybe he was telling the truth.”
You wanna suck it like a bong hit, wack it
You gotta be my First Lady, jack it
She got the power of the hootchie
I got the fever for the flava of the cootchie
The older relative who clutched their chest in pain during the Puddle of Mudd song has now collapsed. An ambulance is on the way.
“The Impression That I Get” by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
As paramedics struggle to revive my dying relative, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones blares overhead.
Have you ever been close to tragedy
Or been close to folks who have?
Have you ever felt a pain so powerful
So heavy you collapse
You ponder over the lyrics, taking inventory of your life. You thank your lucky stars that you never had to knock on wood. But perhaps you’ll start today. That’s the impression you get.
“When It’s Over” by Sugar Ray
The paramedics leave with my newly deceased relative stuffed inside a body bag. Meanwhile, the pallbearers deliver my casket to the hearse.
All the things that I used to say
All the words that got in the way
All the things that I used to know
Have gone out the window
My love for the easy-breezy vibes of Sugar Ray is legit. It only makes sense that they close out my funeral playlist with a precise banger indicating the end of the ceremony.
Though bittersweet, these lyrics offer solace to my grieving beloveds.
When it’s over
That’s the time I fall in love again
And when it’s over
That’s the time you’re in my heart again
Mark Mc-fucking-Grath. You beautiful bastard.
