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Bastille’s song “Good Grief” is perfectly describes being consumed by obsession and misery. The upbeat rhythm and cheerful tone heavily contrast with the lyrics, creating an effect of an man trying to disguise the pain he feels.

Any happiness found within the song is merely a thin veneer that rings as true as a fake smile. Even the double meaning of a good (happy) grief clashes with the common expression of exasperation (good grief!), perfectly representing the emotional extremes and loss of identity that are the product of a failed relationship.

The first phrase of the song, “watching through my fingers,” introduces each verse with a sense of childishness. By covering your face with your fingers, you simultaneously hide yourself from the world while hiding the world from you. You are peaking through, unable to resist the sight but still trying. It is a desire to reject yet a voyeuristic want to know. Obsession clashes with pain, causing an emotional paralysis, and our subject is trapped in a cycle of reliving and rejecting his prior relationship.

First, he attempts to close his eyes and count, reminiscent of “hide and seek.” It is a momentary separation with the expectation of eventually joining the other. Then he attempts to ignore the memory of his former lover. When that fails, he burns her image from his photographs.

Denial, both physical and symbolic, is unable to purge her memory, and he returns in the next verse:

“In my thoughts you’re far away

And you are whistling the melody, whistling the melody

Crystallizing clear as day

Oh I can picture you so easily, picture you so easily”

She is far away, yet she is right there in his mind. The more distance he seeks, the closer she gets. Her soundless melody dominates his thoughts, and her image readily appears. All attempts to save himself only cause further harm.

It is at this moment that he puts words to his dilemma: “What’s gonna be left of the world if you’re not in it?” He cannot deny her because he made her too much of himself. There is no “he” without “her.” He must be obsessed because he lacks his own identity, he gave it up for her.

It is on this question that the refrain first appears:

“Every minute and every hour

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more,”

When Dan Smith sings these words, the strength of his delivery reveals a strength of conviction. He knows he misses her and seems almost proud of it. It is his devotion to her and her memory that drives him forward, something that he, in some recess of his mind, considers a positive attribute.

This positivity transforms his grief. The third verse describes how he hears her “favorite song,” prompting him to dance at a funeral. He is overwhelmed at even a moment of sorrow and mourning by just a fraction of her memory. His obsession has found a sort of joy that should not be present, and, the question comes back again, “What’s going be left of the world if you’re not in it?”

From that moment, the song deteriorates in structure. The refrain returns, but the verse that follows is of a new form:

“You might have to excuse me

I’ve lost control of all my senses

And you might have to excuse me

I’ve lost control of all my words

So get drunk, call me a fool

Put me in my place, put me in my place

Pick me up, up off the floor

Put me in my place, put me in my place”

This verse, if it can be called a verse, is a mockery of the refrain, incorporating many of the same repetitive patterns. Like the form, he has fallen apart, undermining any possible happiness he could have experienced in the third part.

His lack of “senses” and “words” represent his inability to interact with the world. He is consumed by her memory, and he no longer has his own identity. There is no joy to be found.

This dislocation soon takes on an infantile state once again, and the images of fingers are merged with feelings of sorrow and longing at the end:

“Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers

Cause every minute and every hour

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more”

No longer is there pride in missing her, it is only his childish unwillingness to cope with a world that lacks her in his life. He has nothing, and he is desperate, repeating how much he “misses” her because there is nothing left.

“Good Grief” captures many of the complex feelings that come from a failed relationship. With pain and sorrow, there is often an obsessive quality. You dwell both on the good and the bad, allowing it to overwhelm you. All you are left with is the hope that the memory will replace the loss of the physical.

Social mores and customs are abandoned because the ego reigns free; the memory of the lover is only a construct of your mind, and you lose focus on the external world. We do not know why the relationship fell apart, but we are left with someone too damaged to regain that relationship unless he can embrace the world once again.

As long as he asks, “What’s going be left of the world if you’re not in it?” there can be nothing of the world. He must break free of the memory if it is even possible.

In form and substance, Bastille shows the emptiness of obsession and how dwelling on a memory leaves you unable to participate in the world. There is no “good” grief.